Musings

Are Your Resolutions Working?

 

March is the 3rd month in the year and most of us started 2018 with a resolution or 100 of them if my guess is right. If you’ve kept even one of the resolutions you made at the start of the year, then Bravo! And kudos to you. Because as it turns out, a lot of us don’t even make it pass the first couple days of making them. As it turns out, new year resolutions became popular after the great depression and though a lot of people make them, not everyone keeps them.
Actually, more than half of the people who make resolutions fail in keeping the resolutions they make within the first couple of months in the new year. It’s not because they were not resolute enough or that they didn’t believe in their resolutions, it’s mainly because some resolutions are unrealistic, made as a self motivation tactic or totally not well thought out. Most people lose the feeling they had at the start of the year that prompted the resolution in the first place. The motivation might be gone, they might be feeling defeated due to lack of visible results, impossible goals were set or they totally forgot and abandoned said resolutions before February the 28th.

So to make your resolutions work, you need to change your mentality. Rewire your brain of sorts. Change your resolutions to goals and make them achievable.

Work on them one at a time and not several at a time.

For example:-
Weightless
Exercise
Stop smoking
Debt management
Better money management
Relationship improvement or dissolving
Diet Etc.

Even though its March, you can still work at achieving your goals and making them work. its never to late.

wink.gif

Images/gifs sourced from google.com

Advertisements
Musings, Silence

The Suicide Epidemic (Contagion)

I love my husband very much (with the title above, I am most certain this isn’t the opening line you were expecting). But as I was saying, I love my husband very much and yet we don’t share an interest in the same type of reading materials most of the time. I tend to get away from being sucked into reading anything he’s picked up or even school assignments or papers he has to write because the material serves as a snooze button for me. But to be fair, its not that they are boring, its that I don’t have an interest in them. Although, I try my best to to help him out and also develop somewhat of an interest in the titles he is interested in and skim/read through a few of them. This was the case when I stumbled on something very interesting and quite serious that inspired this post.

I was helping my husband read through ‘The Tipping Point by Malcolm Caldwell’ (I love Malcolm Caldwell books by the way even though I haven’t read a lot) and I didn’t even know it was his book when I agreed to help (#goodwife). We split the book into chapters and I got chapters 7 & 8 which I grumbled at (because I felt I wouldn’t know what the book was about starting at the end) but I still went ahead and read them.

I have heard of suicides on international TV but nothing local here in Nigeria that I recall (not saying there aren’t any, just don’t recall any or on national news either). I have seen / heard on global/international news children , celebrities, the elderly, parents (adults) committing suicide and even though I felt sad and mourned the loss, I never understood it.

However, reading ‘The Tipping Point by Malcolm Caldwell’ opened up a new angle of suicides and the epidemic surrounding them especially in recent times. In the society I grew up in and religiously, they are frowned upon. I believe that even when a member of the community does commit suicide, it would probably be reported differently. Maybe an Illness, homicide, ”his or her village people attacked” or God is blamed for it. Rarely is mental illness  mentioned as opposed to the western culture I’ve observed online when its almost always a case of mental health when the cause /reason of death is suicide.

In this book, the suicide epidemic / contagion in the Island of Micronesia is brought up and used as a case study along with the death of celebrities like Marilyn Monroe and the rate of traffic accidents in relation to a highly publicized suicide. The research of ”David P Phillips” was used to explain this phenomenon of escalated suicide and traffic accidents right after a highly publicized suicide on TV or the newspapers. Below are snippets of his research not the whole thing because it isn’t my intellectual property, I will only post snippets and you can read the whole thing online.

This paper shows that suicides increase immediately after a suicide story has been publicized in the newspapers in Britain and in the United States,1947-1948. The more publicity devoted to a suicide story, the larger the rise in suicides there after.The rise in suicides after a story is restricted mainly to the area in which the story was publicized.Alternative explanations of these findings are examined; the evidence indicates that the rise in suicides is due to the influence of suggestion on suicide, an influence not previously demonstrated on the national level of suicides. The substantive, theoretical, and methodological implications of these findings are examined.

There was a reference to Marilyn Monroe’s death and its effect on the national suicide rate and how it rose to about 12 percent temporarily after the announcement of her death.

On the Micronesian suicide epidemic, read this article

HONOLULU, March 5— In the islands of Micronesia, young men are killing themselves at one of the highest rates in the world, researchers say, and no one knows what to do about it.

Suicides among males between the ages of 15 and 30 are so prevalent that they have become an accepted method of problem-solving in the island societies where harmony is highly prized, according to the Rev. Francis Hezel and Dr. Don Rubinstein.

”For several years suicide has been the No. 1 cause of death for youths in Truk,” said Father Hezel, a Jesuit who has served for nearly 18 years as director of Xavier High School in the Truk Islands, where the suicide rates are highest.

Father Hezel was the first person to notice the trend, in 1977, and he wrote a magazine article on the problem. Since then, he and Dr. Rubinstein, a researcher at Honolulu’s federally financed East-West Center, have collected many facts on the problem. But they do not yet have solutions, said Father Hezel, who is doing research in Honolulu as part of a year’s leave of absence.

Twice as High as in U.S.

…………………………………………….. read more on http://www.nytimes.com/1983/03/06/us/micronesia-s-male-suicide-rate-defies-solution.html

Finally, the purpose of this post is to share what I have learned, draw your attention to a different way of looking at suicides, what might be causing them and what are your thoughts on this issue and our communities.

I wasn’t going to write on this issue before because there is so much i don’t yet know or understand, but after hearing about the community in Ohio, I thought now would be the time to have a conversation about it, it might help someone.

Please share your thoughts in the comment section below

  • should suicides not be publicized anymore?
  • what are the best ways to announce suicides publicly i.e news and news papers?
  • can this epidemic/contagion be controlled or eradicated?
  • why do you think people do it?
  • why do teenagers especially with the example of males in Micronesia more prone to commit suicides?

And if you know someone going through something be sure to contact professional help.

Musings

How do you react to news?

There’s always a knee jerk reaction to news that we all exhibit in one way or another, be it pleasant or unpleasant. For some people the reaction is always subtle and seems thought out. you wonder to yourself how calm, can this person be or how is it that they aren’t reacting to this situation or that situation?

I like to look at the people around me when things are happening to see how they are reacting to the situation/ taking in news. I tend to ask myself is there a wrong way to react or are our reactions dictated by society on how it should be? If so, does this reaction still remain genuine and pure?

For example, what if your immediate reaction is to laugh where others are shocked, sad or crying? does this make your initial reaction wrong? does it lead to questions and issues of mental health?

I know these are a lot of questions, and yet this is what I have been stewing on today. Have you thought about this same issue today? have you reacted the ”wrong” way recently or at some point in time?

please share your experience with me.

Thanks.

hurt, poems

Too broke to have an opinion.

Too broke to have an opinion so I am moving on from me.

My sacrifices and changes are naught

You won’t get past the me you knew and think you know.

You define me by the moment you meet me.

I am nothing to you but her who clings to sleep and who is lazy and has a thousand and one excuses for being exactly that.

My truths are not worthy in your court of conclusions.

I am not up for trail but the jury is out and I am guilty

My revolution won’t be found in your opinions of me

I have tried to be the me you seem to want me to be.

You unravel me with a single thought and word.

You wound and you undo all I thought I had built and walked away from.

It’s nothing.

I end up being the me you think you knew.

I am moving on from you.

I am becoming numb and my tears are emptying.

I get exhausted and broken when you constantly remind me  of how I can never please you.

I am never good enough.

I have craved your approval. Bent over like a branch every which way to accommodate you.

I am cold.

You thrust me into the frost and I can’t break free. I call out but no ones there to answer.

I am starting to turn into a watering pot and I don’t like this part of me you’ve unleashed.

I have forgotten to live for me.

I scrape hours of the night to unwind and be me.

My days are slow and they drag and it’s still the same me I get to live with.

The me who was happy to have taken a million steps only to have you destroy that believe with a simple’that’s why you are fat and eat and sleep and are lazy’.

I work hard to be a better person who isn’t selfish and I can’t remember the last time I did something that was just for my pleasure with no one else but me to benefit and enjoy.

Yet I am she who is selfish.

I am too broke to have my own opinions and I have spent them all in my book of thoughts and hurt so I am moving on from me, I am moving to a person I like and can live with.

My heart hurts too much from all the band aids I have placed.

I need to heal.

Goodbye.

Guest posts, Guests posts

Guest post By Gozumaki :- The Rap Poem

thRVN3OZ8W

Take me on a trip
Take me to that church
Take me to that place ‎, that makes all things just work
Make me think of greatness
Break me, make me shapeless
Mould me to that being
That’s Ultimately weightless
With no chains of society
Transcending media lobotomy
Defending sane morality
Heading towards eternity
Lead me to that point
That Helps take on points
Pointing out words you said
Leaving em point blank dead
To the questions and the philosophy
That’s filled with devil’s psyhcology
I’m here, and not here
It’s like I’m speaking but I’m dead
To this world
To its choke
To its deafening crazy jokes
At what it means to walk in Christ
Come on at me Yea i’ll bite,
No fear of what you doing
Or what you saying
Cause one way I’m leaving
And in the end, I want him to say
“You’ve done well my son”

Guest posts, Guests posts

Guest Post. THE DEMON-POSSESED CHICKEN. By Queen .F. Photizo.

thRVN3OZ8W This is a guest post.
My childhood was really interesting and full of fun. I was born into a large family. My father had married and divorced several women before he met my mother and as a result, I had a few older half siblings. This made growing up a lot of fun for me because it was always a full house and there was never a dull moment. We lived in a very big building with lots of flats, a few of which my father leased out to tenants. The compound was also very large with plenty of space for playing around. Another factor that contributed to the fun was the presence of domestic helps. We had different maids come and go, each with a different cultural background. This gave us the opportunity to be exposed to different games and folktales from all over the country. Some of those maids were stern and unfriendly but most of them were very relaxed and loved to play as much as we kids did. My early years were filled with funny events and occurrences due to all the influences around. I am going to share a story about one of such occurrences. I call it “chicken drama”.
I have already stated that my mother was not the first and only woman my father married. This always put her on edge because in this part of the world, if you had step-children, that could mean serious trouble for you. Nothing you ever do will be right in the eyes of your neighbours and acquintances. Every little act of discipline would be perceived as maltreatment of the children and you could easily be branded a wicked step-mother; like the one in Cinderella. Anyway I digress. Back to the story. The main issue that made my mother uneasy was the fact that the mothers of those children, although they were not living in the same house with us,  might want to harm her and her kids. That is also a common occurrence in this part of the world. This fear of being harmed made my mother to become very prayerful and “spiritual”. This spirituality was further fueled by the church we attended then. We were made to believe that the devil had so much power and we had to stay awake and pray in the middle of the night or witches would kill us in our sleep. My mother was always alert and concious of the fact that there were demons everywhere. Every unusual occurrence was caused by demonic activity. She was what we Nigerians call a “prayer warrior”.
This chicken drama began when one of our tenants started rearing chickens in the backyard. The hens laid some eggs which later hatched into really cute chicks. I was nine years old at the time and my baby brother must have been around four. We were really taken with the cute chicks. They were so fluffy and yellow, we decided that we simply must have them as pets; at least one of them. Our maid at the time, Fatima, was the most exciting, adventurous and mischievous help we ever had. She was very playful and was ready to go along with every silly idea I had so I approached her with a new one; to steal the tenant’s chicks. She eagerly agreed of course and reappeared shortly with a very cute chick in her hand, apologetic for being able to catch just one. We set up living quarters for the chick immediately. After pondering for a few minutes I decided to create a home for it in the top drawer of my dresser. That was one place I was sure my mother would never look. We made the chick comfortable in the drawer and left it open just a little bit, for some air to go in. I made sure the space wasn’t large enough for it to get out. I was so happy with our new pet and I  actually thought we would be able to take care of it till it grew and was able to lay eggs. We fed it whatever we ate; we obviously didn’t have the slightest clue on how to rear chickens. My top drawer was filled with biscuits, strands of spaghetti, grains of rice and whatever food you can think of.
Our “pet” didn’t last with us for up to one week before the “chicken drama” occurred. It was a Saturday evening. We had just come back from a visit to the amusement park; mother, Fatima, baby brother and I. Someone foolishly left the drawer open, wider than usual, before we left for the park. The poor chick, after being locked up for so long, found it’s chance at freedom and jumped out. At that same moment, for some reason which I can’t remember now, my mother followed Fatima and I to my room and saw our wonderful pet. Now my mother is someone that overreacts a lot; she’s known to make a mountain out of a molehill and this made us to lie about a lot of things while growing up. As soon as she saw the chick she screamed, ‘Jesus! Who brought this chick here?’ The little person in my mind was running around frantically, thinking of what to do because I was so scared of what my mother would do to me if she found out we had stolen the tenant’s chick. However, on the outside I maintained my composure and calmly told her that I didn’t know who brought it. ‘So how did it get here?’, she asked. Again, I replied that I didn’t know. She immediately started binding and casting evil forces. She then called the errand boy, Patrick and asked him to take the chick outside and set it ablaze. The rationale for this was that if the chick was indeed a witch that changed her form, she would die in a very horrible way; being burnt alive.
Fatima and I looked on in dismay as Patrick took the chick, poured some kerosene on it and set it ablaze. I felt terrible as I watched the chick burn and I was convinced God was going to punish me for what I had done. It took me years to get over that incident and I eventually told my mother about it. She laughed and said she couldn’t even remember burning a chick. It’s something I laugh about now when I remember it but it wasn’t in the least bit funny then. I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept tossing and turning, thinking about what a terrible person I was. I had caused the execution of an innocent chicken.

hurt, Inspired, love, Silence

Silence 2. Rukkaya.

A mix of fiction and reality. Welcome to the stories of the unheard.

previous posts

I remember it like it was yesterday. The day everything I knew ended. Who knew that just when I was learning to play house with friends I’d have to play it for real; with a stranger.

The house would be real, the babies real and so would the responsibilities.

Who knew real babies were so much more different from my stuffed dolls? That they’d require this much constant attention?

Why wasn’t I told I’d have to entertain my husband’s guest and also look after the kids and the house?

That day still feels surreal. I was called by my mother and calmly told I was going to be married and how thankful and happy I should be that he had chosen me and the honor he was placing on my family.

I was ecstatic. What did I know about marriage and all it entailed? All I knew was that a couple months ago my friend     Amina  got married and we were all jealous of the gifts and attention she got. It was beautiful and oh so colorful. I had never seen that much clothes in one place.

So of course I was happy I would have the same. The new clothes and my own room. It was getting pretty crowded in my father’s house with the yearly births that was like a silent competition between my mom and step-moms.

I was in a daze as everything about my new life was planned out without a question posed to me as to what I wanted or how I wanted it, after all they knew best.

But I quickly got yanked out of that dream the day I met the groom and plunged into a fantasy. It was a year later. The wedding day was approaching and I guess I was finally old enough. I was fourteen. He was twenty years older. He’s handsome this husband of mine. So don’t get me wrong and think I was complaining, far from it actually because unlike my friend whose husband was quite ancient, mine was handsome and just thirty-four. A man in his prime I thought. I couldn’t stop staring at him. He was my first real crush and he spoke English fluently which I always wanted to do, I had fantasies of him teaching me how to speak properly and read.

He promised my parents I’d go to school and my future home was going to be in the city.

Fast forward a couple months later. I’m all draped out and lying timidly on the bed. The celebration over and I am in a strange room shivering like a wet dog and trying to remember the advice my mom gave me.

Was it lie still and it will pass quickly or was it encourage him and it will hurt less. What was she babbling about? I am not ignorant, my father raises animals so I know how it works. But it doesn’t mean that what my mom said made any sense to me.

The door creaks open and is gently shut. But in the state I was in, everything sounded loud and thunderous.

I won’t bore you with the details of my initiation into womanhood. Suffice it to say I learned a lot of things in the hours that followed.

  1. I was the 3rd of my husband’s wives.
  2. I wasn’t cutout for coitus if that’s how much it hurt and I had never prayed so hard he’d fall deeper in love with his other wives so as to forget my room and the consequent visits.
  3. My mother lied or maybe he’s different. It didn’t pass quickly by lying still nor hurt less by encouraging him.
  4. I could cry for hour’s non-stop.
  5. It was possible to feel shame even in marriage.

Other lessons were learned but everything in small doses even my story right?

Fast forward several months later to the present and why I am telling you this. My friend Amina lost her life in child birth and that was a wakeup call for me and prompted me to have a serious discussion with my husband about my future and how I didn’t want to end up like her. She was just thirteen and her baby girl is back home with her grandparents probably doomed to the same fate as her mom.

I am a bit lucky that my husband kept his word about my education and has promised to wait before I start having kids of my own. His first wife died a couple months after our wedding and her and the baby didn’t make it. He and the second wife got into a row and are now divorced. So it’s just the two of us. We talk more than we did when we first got married. And I have come to love and respect him in my own way especially since he now listens to me.

We currently sleep in the same room and I don’t break into a cold sweat like I used to. But not everyone’s story is like mine.

Break the silence!

 

Guest posts, Guests posts, LDR, love

Soul Mates By Kehinde.

AuthorGuestPost1

SOULMATES

He…the love of my life.

The tingling sweetness of my insides.

One man, one amongst ten who got,

Got in me a treasure valued like gold.

He, this one, the one who holds,

Holds so tight I rest in love.

That one…his presence my smile

Him whom I never learnt to love…

The pounding of my chest,

The tightness of my tummy. But wait,

Is he my soulmate?

I always thought I believed in soulmates, well I did, until recently. Love the world’s way will have you believe that it’s an emotion that cannot be helped. In love you’re supposed to be helpless, drunk, needy of your partner, see the world through your love for your partner, no one ever says that but that’s the unspoken expectation. And it’s beautiful, absolutely something to be privileged to experience, but does it really exist?

I’ve always been something of a romantic – blame it on my love for all things romance. I love love and the idea of it, but you see, as a Christian my view on certain subjects will change, not because I force them to but because I take on a renewed view via the word of God that I take in… besides my influence is different now. I don’t claim to have gotten my view from the bible, but I’ll say that I am talking from a Christian point of view, as is my understanding.

When I used to read a lot of romance literature, I used to spend my time dreaming up my prince charming. I imagined that he was taller than me, was all muscled up, had fire in his eyes every time he looked at me, all those wonderful things like that, and I looked forward to romance. I longed for my own 6-packed hulk who was going to be my hero. I longed for this near perfect guy – because the protagonists in any romance story always fought only once. As I grew though I got to understand that there’s really more to romance than all the beautiful feeling. Most enlightening is my understanding of romance from the love chapter of the bible: I Cor 13.

In church you’ll usually hear that love is not a feeling, that to get a true understanding of love is to understand love God’s way: love is kind, love is patient, love does not boast, is not envious, etc. As a Christian it’s easy to quote this afterall we keep hearing it. But as much as I heard love to be this way, I never really was convinced that that was love, I mean love is fire, love is love and really it’s about two people in love. I had head knowledge of God’s kind of love and even practised the easy parts of it without referring to it as love. In my mind giving na giving, patience is only because I don’t want to look stupid – or I know I can’t fight the conductor. Tolerance is until I can’t take it any longer, long suffering has never really been appealing. Like that I went on, waiting on love because love was supposed to happen with a guy. I love my family and love God but the ‘love’ I was waiting on was special… the real one.

After reading through my favourite literature and noting the way the protagonist studied I Cor 13, I decided that it was time to find out what it was about that part of the scripture that everyone keeps going on about. I’ve read that portion before, in a group setting and personally, it wasn’t until recently that I really understood the gravity of real love.

The first thing that grated my nerve this time around when I read that portion is ‘love cares more for others than for self.’ I was shaking my head in disapproval when I saw ‘love puts up with anything, that spoiled it. Put up with anything? Like any-thing? Even when I’m being nice and the other party is being nasty? Like even when I’m being shoved rudely? Even when I’m without any fault? That’s tough! And that continues to be the most resounding part of that portion for me, maybe because it’s tougher to accept for me. I just can’t come to terms with the fact that I have to put up with anything.

There’s no way to explain I Cor 13 and dwell on romance, at least for me, because the focus is not on romance. The focus is on loving any and everyone like that. I concluded that having a soulmate is not God’s design simply for the fact that the idea of having a soulmate promotes selfishness and I don’t mean that in terms of self as it is that the focus of the love is just on the two parties involved. Having a soulmate connotes that our world revolves around our lover, that we see them, breathe them, etc. God’s kind of love extends beyond the two to everyone the parties come in contact with.

I’ve also concluded that having a soulmate connotes that the parties involved have attained an unreasonable standard of perfection. With a soulmate we insinuate that our lover can do no wrong, that he/she is without responsibilities, and even if, that they exist in a world without problems: sickness, financial situations, family responsibilities, etc. The whole idea of having a soulmate says one way or another that the parties involved are perfect and exist in a perfect world. If it was true, God’s love wouldn’t require us to put up with anything, wouldn’t ask us to be patient, long suffering (the dreaded word). It wouldn’t ask us to not keep score of the sins of others.

The relationship of soulmates is a relationship of exclusion. It excludes everyone apart from the parties involved, there is a horizontal expression of love that benefits only two people. Imagine if that love was actually ideal, how many people will be loveless? How many people will be denied the joy of experiencing true love. If God’s love was based on whether we deserve it or not, a lot of us will be without love. And that’s the beauty of I Cor 13, it tells us to love everyone, even when they haven’t done anything to be loved; the consistent practice of this kind of love is what even strengthens a romantic relationship because what will you do when you find that the one you’re smitten by is just as human as you and just as prone to be annoying?

The question is if soulmates truly exists and my answer is that it only exists in an ideal world made up of ideal people. Soulmates can’t exist because it’s exclusive – God doesn’t want only a few to experience love. It can’t exist because it’s idealistic – it wants something that can’t be (except of course all men were perfect). It can’t exist because people still find love (sometimes with a bigger intensity) after they’ve lost their spouse whom they were very much in love with. It can’t exist if love truly is a choice.

It’ll be too fickle if it existed because at the first sign of a challenge the parties involved will chicken out. I’m not negating the use of the word itself, I’m only against people looking for love in terms of finding their soulmate… I guess it’s whatever works for everyone but really it’ll only be disappointing. I rather prefer being married to my best friend. As friends we’ll acknowledge our humanity but as soulmates hold each other to impossible standards.

 

Guest posts, Guests posts

LIFE LESSONS: LESSONS FROM MY HAIR by Kehinde.

I’d like to bring out a lesson from the most unlikeliest place: my hair. I’m not particularly obsessed with my hair but like most women I could be finicky about it. I want my hair to look like a million bucks. I want to be comfortable with my hair. I have to say though that I belong to the group of women who don’t like adding extensions on. Gosh I love how other women look with them, they’re usually very beautiful and in my mind’s eyes I even look beautiful with them but in reality I don’t have the courage for them. You know how strands from them start sticking on your skin on extremely hot days…horror! It was with one of such experiences, after deciding that I’d had enough that I decided never to sew them in again. And the hairdressers don’t even help with the way they keep yanking at one’s scalp in the name of braiding, so it was a combination of the hairdresser’s ‘hard’ hand, the heat that comes with extensions, and my inability to maintain them that made me decide to stop them altogether. Even better was I wasn’t going to make my hair ever again, I was going to lock it. In my mind it was a better option than cutting off my hair or enduring the hairdresser’s hand. Three years later and I’m on a low cut. I’ve cut my hair twice in the last three years and not once in that space did I even mistakenly lock my hair. Then this morning someone suggested that I should cut my hair again, I could’ve laughed in Spanish!

Making the decision to go natural is a very huge one for me because with that I defiled conformity. Then with it came plenty of YouTube videos and hair articles, in truth the whole thing was draining, but not at first because I was still heady from the excitement of doing things my own way. I hadn’t told anyone before I cut my hair. A year later and I was VERY frustrated. Prior to going natural I wasn’t one to pay attention to my hair, I was pretty much a routine person, nothing extra, but with going natural I was now extra particular about my hair. For the first time I began to pay attention to what products I used, who did my hair, what kind of material I slept on, etc. I would for the first time ever come to say that I love my hair and actually mean it. I loved my hair absolutely. After going through the cycle of doubt, compromise and sometimes neglect, I decided to cut it again and I must say that I feel liberated from the need to have my hair a certain way.

As is with people, they’re wont to give unsolicited advice. Now I have people telling me what to do and not do with my hair. There’s this lady in particular who keeps implying -and she’s relentless- that I should subject myself to those hairdressers. I was just reflecting when it occured to me that this time around my resolve is much stronger than what everyone else thinks I should be doing with my hair. I’m no expert but I learnt this very clearly.

That listening to everyone on what i know i want for myself will frustrate me. I don’t know if it was that I trusted other people more than me or I was just being respectful of their opinion but I realised that I was listening to too many people, even five is a crowd. I’d decided on what I wanted so why did it suddenly not sound good enough in the face of other people’s opinion?…I learnt that defining what we want for ourselves CLEARLY is absolutely important. I’m not implying that we shouldn’t give ear to other people’s opinion, I’m simply saying that we should receive their opinion in the light of our own. There will be times when we need wisdom from other people’s experience, and that should count but have you realised how much we go to the wrong persons for advice? The people -whose advice I didn’t ask but were giving it- hadn’t gone natural like ever.

I also learnt that I have to be more confident of my choices. Because most of the people giving me advice were older, I assumed that they were right in telling me to ‘do my hair’ so I did my hair even after telling myself that I really didn’t want extensions. Many times I left the saloon wondering why I kept going back when I knew I didn’t like it, but you see my mum for one would not accept my hair as it was plus it didn’t help that I was not great at taking care of it. I don’t even know what she has against natural hair anyway.

This time around when everyone tells me what is best I just look at them with a smile on my face thinking ‘no way’. My resolve is much stronger having already failed myself once. Now I’ve clearly mapped out my goals and I intend to follow through, really though sometimes experience is the best teacher.

Inspired, LDR, love, poems, poetry

Breathless

My supply of creativity is emptying

You kissed me, sucked my words away.

It tingled as it left my fingers and sizzled with the loss in contact.

It licked through my pores and escaped through my mouth as I said the words back.

 

Dumb as a lamppost as I stand gazing at you with stars in my eyes

And the old me drooping through my lips and sense hanging out my dropped jaw.

 

I saw her you know; Sensibility

As she mournfully left me

A cold draft of air,

Many a shivers and the hold of doubts as they stare me down

questioning my sanity as I gaze at you with the moon on my lids.

You touch me and Mr. Doubt couldn’t run fast enough.

And warmth that swamped me to heal the frost resident on all vital organs.

 

You caught me

Broke my fall and wrapped me in your warm embrace.

Your lips are sore from kissing my tears away

Your arms cramped from hugging me in your embrace.

 

I am never at a loss for what to say

yet you leave me speechless. 

 

 

Images and gifs gotten off bing search.

Written content is an original property of Sunesis(Atomic words)

Express request and permission has to be granted for any sort of use or reproduction.

Thank you

http://www.bing.com/images/search?

http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=speechless+gifs&view

http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=falling+gifs