So, I am 41 now and as I settle into a new season, it is my most sincere prayer that this season brings softness and ease.
As November drew close, I wondered if I would write a piece about turning 41 because I do not plan on writing birthday think pieces every year. However, it has been a while since I shared parts of myself here on Medium and what better time to share than now? The last couple of weeks had me neck-deep in planning a few key work meetings. The success of these meetings was important to me because of a few underlying factors I am not at liberty to share at the moment. However, I had tried to let my family and friends know that I will not be fully present for a period because I needed to prepare for these meetings while conducting research for a consultancy. That said, this piece is going to be about me sharing intimate struggles, not because I see myself as a victim or because I require pity. Rather, I write this piece because I believe that every time I share parts of myself through my writing, I hope someone will find the strength and resilience to stay on course.
Exactly a year ago, I shared here that I was going through a divorce and the impact of the mental toll it had taken on me. So, at the start of this year, I resolved to be deliberate about my happiness by curating my daily fashion style on Instagram. Hahaha… I had signed up for serious work but I committed myself. It did not matter how I felt, I made sure I posted a picture with daily motivation. While some people cheered me on, others felt I was using that medium to show off, le sigh. I started to hear talks about how I was showing off on social media, how there was an expectation that I would cower to a corner, enter into a shell and stay hidden because I was going through a divorce. I found it sad that these comments came from family members who I thought understood my story, my pain, and my journey. I guess I was wrong. On the other hand, I had a friend sending me messages and cheering me on, saying that she loved to see that I was deliberate about being happy.
Divorce, separation, or the end of a relationship takes a massive toll on the people involved, the feeling is inexpressible, it eats away at you, makes you question your worth, and leaves you wondering how you wound up being this failure. Nigerian court systems do not help with the multiple adjournments either. That said, while I wait for the process to be finalised, I find that I am soaking myself in my work because it is a means of escape. I am trying to get better at it, and I need the money. Being a single mum meant that I daily have to work at ensuring my children do not feel like they have to pay for their parents’ break up. It also meant that I was afraid to complain because I did not want anyone to tell me that I brought it on myself. It is inexplicable, the mental turmoil I endure every night as I go to bed and wake up in the morning. The knot I feel in my chest when I wake up and how I have to wear a brave face as I step out of the house. Do not get me wrong, I am happy with my life, at the moment. Desirous for more, but happy nonetheless. There are intermittent moments of sadness and anxiety but I find that I am happy for many more reasons.
However, I have learnt that certain folks believe that I have no right to be happy to display the moments in my life that bring me joy. I found myself apologising for being happy because, ‘how can you be broke yet happy”, “how dare you always think about paying your children’s fees, are you the only one with problems?” At this point, I guess I write this here because I am tired of apologising to people who have never supported my work but are quick to condemn it. With an understanding that family is not necessarily biology, I refuse to give access to anyone who makes me feel bad about standing up for myself as I work hard to provide for my children. The days after my 41st birthday had me basking in the euphoria of love I had received from people who reminded me that I mattered to them. However, instead of staying in the good wishes of people who cared about me, I dwelt on the statements of others who thought that I had no right to take pictures of my growth and evolution.
I probably am all over the place with this Medium piece because I write this crying and reflecting on myself and what I represent to the people around me. I wonder if I am pretentious and a fraud. Or am I too honest about my struggles, what is it about me that makes family quick to mistrust me. While I believe that I deeply care for others and would love to be more to them, I also understand that I cannot save someone from drowning if I cannot swim. I need to wear my oxygen mask first before I can help the next person to wear theirs.
Nevertheless, I want to end this piece by reminding you, while reminding myself that the struggle to receive validation and acknowledgement from others, especially from the people that we think matter, may never come. Understand that the criticisms they give you stem from the fact that they see you. They may not like your style, your walk, your talk, or your story but they notice you and that is why they criticise and sometimes, denigrate you.
Be reminded to never cower. When the world expects you to falter, you push back, hold your ground, and bet on yourself. Understand that no one can love you more than you love yourself and the sooner you come to terms with this, the sooner you get to work in your superpower, whatever that is. To the single mother out there who society wants so badly to see fail, I tell you that the only person who can determine whether you fail or succeed is you. Do not let anyone put you in a box and stigmatise you, they have no right to do that unless you give it to them. Own your strengths, build a community, and understand that it is okay to get weary, you are human after all, but never ever stop. You have your little one(s) relying on you, make sure you win. I am rooting for you.
I have always drawn inspiration from Maya Angelou, I feel like she can articulate, ever so eloquently the things I feel in my heart. At this moment, I struggle to celebrate the wins I have enjoyed at work and with my other relationships, but when I read Phenomenal Woman, I resolved to walk with my head held high and a swing in my steps.
