Miss me

Miss me with your expectations. Yep. I probably won’t meet them.

You’ll find me quite a handful (and you’d need big hands for this), you’ll find me hard to understand at times and I’ll step on your toes oft enough. 

I took after my dad’s stubbornness. I like having my way. I talk a lot just as he does. I became more introverted like my mum when I grew up. I have moments where I want to be alone and don’t appreciate human interaction. I am a dreamer like my brother but not the best at implementation of those ideas. 

I am a weird combination of a perfectionist and a messy sanguine. So you’ll find neatly organised rooms one moment and the next, they will look like the aftermath of hurricane me. I love cooking for people but I don’t feel like it often. By now you’ve noticed discipline isn’t my forte.

Yes I grew up being daddy’s girl but somehow that didn’t insulate me from the daddy issues you’ll find still healing. If I got half the heart my dad has for people and the kind of love he’s shown me; then you’ll proud of me. My mum’s amazing intelligence wasn’t the only thing that was passed down; I learnt kindness, generosity and unbelievable patience. Not that I’m good at them but I’m learning. My brother’s ability to go after what he wants and his people skills also rub off on me. That young man inspires me in ways I can’t explain.

So yes, I’m work in progress. I don’t mind learning and accept growth. I joked the other day about how God forgot moderation when creating me. Everything about me is extreme; both the good and ugly. But rest in this: God’s got me. I’ve watched the way He’s moulding me and it’s encouraging. Oh you should know how in love I am with Him. He lavishes me with His own love!

Most of all, I acknowledge this: miss me with your expectations is a two-edged sword. This isn’t just for you but me as well. You’re who you are and perfect as you are. So when you come, I’ll lay my expectations on the altar and take you for who you are.

The Art of Reciprocation

Somebody told me that I need to allow people to love me. I laughed. I mean, I have a thousand issues but none of them involved rejecting love from people. As a matter of fact, I was certain that my problem was the opposite: I give love and expect it but few offer it back. I don’t mean the shallow stuff we usually throw around but the genuine kind. The type that isn’t repelled by your mess. The kind that can stay right through storms. The reliable one that’s a phone call away when you need help.
After some time, I thought I’d ask someone. Just in case I was blind to this. Her response was that I’m easy to love and I have no issues accepting the same. She thought whoever told me was simply projecting what he actually needed to learn. 

Then one day it dawned on me in a completely new light! I made up my mind to give people room to love me; give them space to show it. I took a backseat and embarked on an interesting journey. 

I stopped looking for people; I allowed them to figure if I was important enough to call or text. I started giving only what I received. Friendship became a tango, I danced as I was led. If communication was prioritized, then I’d reciprocate. I gave in the measures I was given. 

This opened my eyes and helped me see things with such clarity. I now know what I mean to different people and what they mean to me.

You see naturally, I’m a giver and I invest excessively in my friendships. I cross oceans for people and pull heaven if need be for them. However, I’ve watched my overflowing affections scorned. Sacrifices made in terms of time, money or even simply talk time on phone; taken for granted or seen as a nuisance.

Everybody has their breaking point, there’s always a time when enough is enough. So I’m done bending over backwards for people who don’t see the value of sacrifices made. 

Take it from me, it’s okay to go where you’re appreciated, in fact I highly recommend that. It’s okay to know how much to give to who. It’s okay to stop scattering your pearls before pigs. It’s okay to understand that sometimes you’re some fat juicy steak and that no matter how great you are, the vegans around you will never see your worth. Most of all, it’s okay to guard who you are and what you’ve got. Not every person should be allowed unlimited access to what you can offer. Allow them to earn it. 


High and low,

They come and go.


Two steps forward,

Heavy feet dragged,

Three more steps covered,

Alas I see the light,

Tunnel’s edge comes to sight,

Freedom at last.


Liberty is beautiful,

Fresh air, clear skies,

Have you seen how the sun shines?

Without ’em shackles,

Everything looks brighter,

Life’s much greater.


Oh shucks!

Slowly it calls,

Gently it tugs,

I can feel it happen.

I run, I cry, I can’t hide.


I’m pulled back,

I can’t believe this,

I was free as a bird,

I felt the chains fall,

I was certain this was it.


Oh I loathe them,

The tides that allow me,

Forward to move,

Only to retract;

False sense of liberation.


I’m caught up,

In these tides,

All I can do,

Is for mercy beg,

Please let me go;

This time round,

Never to return.

Tears For Breakfast

Table is set

Heavy thoughts line it up well,

Despair provides a lovely cover.

The appetizer first

Pretty pink and white pill,

More thoughts to wash it down.

Frustration, heartache, despondence

Make a balanced diet.

Pop out those flavours

A dash of salt will do

Yes, salt in fluid form.

Drown that with music

As you nibble on tea and bread.

But that’s just the cover up

In reality it is evident

Tears were your breakfast.

Mountains and Valleys

I have finally decided to come here and fess (this should tell you how reading Little Women all week and watching the movie, has had an effect on me). I have carried enough and since writing helps me unpack, I’m doing just that. 

This has been a gloomy week, which makes little sense because I had the most wonderful Easter weekend. I’d planned to go home and enjoy plenty of introverting since the whole family was travelling upcountry. Needless to say, my plans backfired beautifully. Don’t you like it when God wrecks your plans and trades them for lovelier ones? 

Friday turned out to be my turn to enjoy being daddy’s girl. Went to town with him and had quite the shopping spree then late lunch at some Resort. He told me to call my little sister (not biological) to come join us and her classmate who he has a spot for since her accident. That man has such a big heart! Went to pick my friend for a sleepover and had fun ‘shopping’ in her house (that’s what true friends do, Lol). 

Saturday was mostly cooking for guests and the compliments are always worth the effort. Then ended up in town again, this time round having a girls’ day out with mum. This time round I got more than I expected from the shopping including a pretty high-low dress that had my dad voicing his concerns since he believes I’ve grown so fat that the poor dress wasn’t fitting (smh).

Sunday in church gave me plenty to meditate on and friends to reconnect with. Went for an Easter concert in town since I’d promised little sister that I’d go. Oh the praise and worship was everything my spirit craved! Decided to go for coffee which we thought was unwise since we both had limited cash. Goodness, the surprises God pulls! Someone came and paid for our mochas and cakes in advance! 

I travelled back the next day with my heart very full. I’d been more than loved on and God took me from one amazing experience to another and another. I’d received more than I’d ever imagined.

So why was it hard to have all the wonderful memories overshadow everything else? Monday evening had me battling depression alongside a misbehaving body. Later I realised the link between the condition disturbing my digestive system and depression. 

From then, things haven’t been too different. Ennui at work, long hours that made a point to move even slower, heavy downpours and dull weather that seemed to reflect my internal state and feeling completely alone. 

I didn’t go to work today; I have my misbehaving body to thank for that. Which means I’ve been in bed all day and have had all sorts of thoughts. Feelings of despair have been the thing this week. Eventually told God how I felt I wasn’t worth entrusting the gifts or talents He’s given. Wasn’t worth giving a family since I can barely keep my own house. Wasn’t worthy of love. Basically feeling like I wasn’t worth the things I hoped for.

It’s been a lot to handle and I’m not bearing it all too well. I should be drawing especially close to God right now but I’ve been lost in books and social media because I feel like I don’t even have the discipline to be intentional with God like I should. He’s been very nice and constantly present so all I’ve been doing is conversations with Him while nicely tucked in bed. 

I’m not sure how the next days will turn but I am not perturbed. Valleys precede mountains and dark days don’t last. Sorrow may last for the night but joy sure comes in the morning. So yes, this not-so-little woman will keep keeping on.

Brush Strokes of Reality

I am a dreamer, that I am. It is my gift, it sure is my undoing as well. I build things where none exist. I paint pictures that eyes don’t see. I find beauty where it can’t be spotted. I add glamour to the most ordinary things. Sounds enviable, right? Not really.

See my problem is that all this sips into my perception of people. I view potential; not reality. It’s a good thing you’d argue, well so would I. I get a sneak preview of their lives and proceed to create a whole movie directed by yours truly. I already piece up their character and decide on who they are. The ones who relish the benefits of this are the ones whose lives I romanticised.

I get excited about the picture I painted and enjoy interacting with them based on my own notions. I interpret their words and actions through the lenses I’d selected. This I hadn’t realised its magnitude up till yesterevening when I (against all common sense), called my ex.

I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps curt conversations or an unanswered call. The exact opposite met me. Cheery tones, questions on where I’d been and queries on whether my visa expired since the only reason I ignored his last text should have been because I was out of the country for long. Plenty of catch up, jokes here and there plus having to explain why I was refusing to go pick his car from wherever he left it because I was taking risks with the motorbike rides I do (I love those ones too much to quit).

The car issue lingered on my mind long after the phone call. Not because of the excitement of enjoying the convenience, but because of how I’d interpreted that offer. It’s not the first time he’s said that. First one was while we were dating and he was out at war arguing with me over my love for night walks or meetings that had me out after darkness set in. I still refused. But it had me feeling very cared for and protected.

Then a different thought struck me. What if it wasn’t care and concern but a bait guys throw to get girls hooked? Cognitive dissonance. Hmm, he can’t be like that, can he? I knew a different person. But wait again, we never made it past the honeymoon stage of relationships. We broke up before the period for masks falling arrived. How sure was I that everything hadn’t been staged managed perfectly? Cognitive dissonance again. Fantasy crumbles.

I suddenly got on this train of thoughts that led me right to the root issue: I get clouded by potential while seeing people. I began reflecting on my interaction with various people and saw how I’d clothed them with strokes from my brush as I painted the picture of who I thought they were, vis-a-vis who they really are.

Reality sucks I must say. But reality becomes the necessary foundation before we can build anything. Friendships strain under crazy expectations. Relationships disintegrate slowly as lenses fantasy lenses weaken and the picture gets clearer. So here’s to throwing away all the brushes, lenses and movie scripts. Director no more.

Hello… Goodbye


How’re you? That’s how normal letters begin, right? But oh well, what’s normal about this? Who still does such letters these days? But we both know I love defying status quo.

Maybe I should begin by my summary; there was a line, it was crossed. This is me trying to trace that line. When it was crossed, I can’t quite recall. Perhaps it was at the very beginning. Maybe buns, eggs and vulnerability were the perfect recipe for disaster. Maybe hands held lead to places further than ought to have been wandered. Perchance honesty was a tonic which slowly sipped intoxicated. Long conversations have a way of peering into souls that maybe should have remained hidden.

Broken is beautiful. Broken captivates. Broken has a way of spurring one to fight past those sharp edges not minding bleeding in the process. Broken mayhap was my undoing. 

You’re an enigma. I was to text you that today. Mystery fascinates. Bit by bit, it drew. Those dark sheers keeping the world out beckoned. Adventure is a drug. I ventured to see. Mystery couldn’t remain unsolved. 

Well I should have known better. Sometimes dark sheers hide holes that are easy to fall into. Climbing out was a process. Each time I got to the edge or even made it past the sheers; something would come up and remind me that I wasn’t too far from that pit. Suddenly the ground underneath would become slippery and before I knew it, I’d be right back at the pit. This back and forth, sigh… something needs to give.

If I have to lay this at the altar in order to save what’s left, then so be it. Sometimes it’s necessary to risk losing something to keep from damaging it further. 
I’m probably not as strong as I always assumed. Sometimes all it takes is intertwined hands crossing a road to reveal that. This is hard but some conversations can’t be left unspoken. 

Just in case you were wondering, the light on stage isn’t what draws. It’s the backstage where masks are loosened a bit. The place where few get to see becomes the most intriguing. 
Broken vessels almost bare to see. Broken is beautiful. A heart imperfect but somehow pours itself out to people. Sonship that inspires. Prayers that are sincere. Honesty. Eyes that are exposed to imperfection but don’t turn away in an instant. A heart that loves God. A worshipper who doesn’t always see it.

Vulnerability exposes wounds. Wounds require healing. How this healing happens, I’m not certain. What I know is that unrequited affections wound deeper; reciprocated ones heal. And sometimes, shutting out the wound heals effectively too.

Whether this is goodbye or hello, time will tell. When all is said and done; thank you. For helping me learn how cocoons are not permanent dwelling places. For inspiring greater honesty. For reminding me what loving people as God asks, is like. For introducing me to people who lavished me with that love. For being used to spark my creativity in ways I hadn’t imagined. For the gift of friendship. For simply being you.