Tag Archives: LOVE

ILLUSIONS OF LOVE, A SICK MIND, A BROKEN SPIRIT

Once upon a time,

you were the man of my dreams.

I saw my future in your eyes,

I held your dreams in my heart.

Once upon a time,

Your smile was music to my soul,

And,

you laying next to me, asleep in my arms

Felt nothing short of divine.

I felt connected to you,

Honoured to share with you,

Stolen glances

Stolen kisses

Stolen nights.

I say stolen because you were never mine.

Not wholly.

Maybe not even in the slightest.

Everything I thought we were,

The connection I thought we had,

Turns out, Was only in my imagination.

There were no lies, just subtle half truths,

Omissions you didn’t even try to cover up,

And, I, was still non the wiser.

Poor, little, confused orphan girl,

Looking for love,

Looking for salvation,

in all the wrong places

Reading too much into

the way you looked at me,

Into the little time you gave me,

Into the half-hearted attention you paid to me.

I thought this was love,

I thought this was enough,

I thought this was all I could get,

And, this was all I deserved.

Desperate for love,

I clung to the illusion

there was something more,

That we were something more,

That we were something special.

I compelled myself to believe,

That I was in love with you,

And that you were in love with me,

I was wrong.

This wasn’t love,

It was just the creation of

A love-depraved mind,

Looking for somewhere to belong.

But, I thank you,

For taking care of me,

Instead of taking advantage of my weak mind,

And misusing me.

Thank you for letting me be annoyed with you,

When really, it was never your fault.

Thank you for the stolen glances,

The teasing,

The kissing,

And the love making.

For a time, they saved me from myself.

You are a good man, AK,

And the world deserves to know it.

Sincerely,

Your once upon a time lover,

Jiggah!

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BETRAYAL- A DAUGHTER’S PAIN

I, Georgina Wangui aka Kui, have been blessed with the opportunity of having two fathers in my life.

That’s two men who consider me as their daughter, as their blood.

There are two grown men at this instant, whom if and when asked to talk about their kids, I’d be part of that lineup.

One man passed on his genes to me, and the other helped raise me.

There’s no denying that each loves me, and that I belong to both of them.

That kind of makes me feel somewhat special. Not so much, but somewhat.

This blessing of having two fathers also comes with its own set of problems.

They are men, and each has done some pretty shitty things that have been revealed to me as the years go by- things that are akin to betrayal from my perspective.

Like mind-bendingly shitty things!

I think that’s why I am not as excited about having two dads as I should be. It’s like being heartbroken twice; a never ending heartache from men I once held in such high esteem.

But, the most messed up thing is I can’t hate them. I can’t find it in my heart to push them out of my life for the dispeakable things they have done.

I can’t say a bad word to either of them.

I smile every time I am talking to either of them.

I am warm and consumed by this warmth everytime I am in their presence, or just talking to them over the phone.

It’s like in that instant, with each individual, they are just my dads.

There’s no anger towards them, just disappointment that, funnily enough, rarely shows itself whenever I’m communicating with them.

Love is a funny thing.

But, I am disappointed, thoroughly. I wish they hadn’t done the things they did. I wish they hadn’t caused the level of hurt they have on people I care so deeply about, and on myself as well.

I wish they would have been men of honour, and I wouldn’t have to feel conflicted between anger and acceptance.

I’m mad at myself too. I should be angry and let them know their actions have hurt us. I should be demanding for apologies, rather than acting as if everything is okay.

Why am I so complacent in this?

Why am I not giving them the opportunity to taste my disappointment?

Love is indeed a funny thing.

Maybe deep down, I don’t want to believe the things they did.

Or maybe, I’m just empathetic. They have to live with the knowledge of all the wrong things they’ve done, and how life has humbled them time and time again because of these mistakes.

That is pretty haunting! And, maybe that’s our revenge- us, the victims of my fathers’ hurtful actions.

I think that’s enough for me. Knowing that they are not getting away with it, that their peace of mind is altered owing to the hurtful, fucked up things they did, and possibly continue to do.

Yap, that is definitely enough for me.

So, I will continue being nice. I’ll continue loving them to my heart’s full measure.

I will revel in remaining their baby girl because, a) it makes me happy, and b) hopefully, it adds to their torment.

Sincerely,

Daddies’ girl ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’–

ANOTHER MONTH, ANOTHER PAINFUL LOSS

Hallo awesome people,

I’m back.

With something I would like to share. It’s a bit heavy but here goes…

A friend died by suicide on the 17th of March, and it was such a devastating loss for everyone involved.

I’ve hang out with him just a couple of times after moving back home, and each time was an absolute pleasure.

The last time we hang out, it was in his father’s car at our local grocery shop. I was sitting at the back, his favourite female in the entire world was sitting at the passenger seat, while he, obviously, was on the driver’s seat.

As we waited for the attendants to load the items that were on the list into the car, we talked, laughed, and made fun of each other, and our other mutual friends.

We didn’t have a care in the world at that point, at least that’s what it seemed like. Everyone was okay, everyone was happy.

I left the two in the car as I had a short errand to run for my mum in town.

That was the last time I saw him alive. 5th March 2019.

Before this, he had graciously accepted my invitation to our church’s Valentine’s dinner back in February.

He came, and obviously, he was the life of the party.

Here he was, trying to explain what he looked for in an ideal partner.

Before this, he had been playing with an adorable three year old princess, distracting the speakers with how much fun they were having together.

He tried his best to tone it down, but the little girl was having too much fun, and he just got sucked into it completely.

You should have heard the child giggle as they played on the grass. It was the cutest thing ever!

On the afternoon of 15th February, he, along with our two mutual friends, and Sammy, had come to help me with the preparations for the dinner that would be held that evening.

The conversations were endless, and again, everyone seemed okay. Each of us seemed happy and content just being there with one another.

And now, he is no more! He’s gone, and by his own hand, nonetheless.

It just goes to show that we never really know the extent of the darkness that lies beneath our glowing smiles and hearty laughs.

And, it’s no one’s fault.

It isn’t our fault- despite the fact that we were his friends, and could have caught a glimpse of this darkness once or twice, but couldn’t do anything more for him than just laugh with him, and make everything seem okay, albeit for just a couple of minutes.

It isn’t his family’s fault either – I know they tried to show him love and support the best way they knew how. I’m sure they went above and beyond for him, and somehow, it still wasn’t enough.

Sometimes, love is simply not enough.

You can love somebody so much, with every being in your body, but still be incapable of saving them from what is eating them from the inside.

Sometimes, love isn’t enough.

Sometimes the darkness overpowers your will to go one more day.

Sometimes the thread that holds you to your loved ones becomes too miniscule compared to the monster growing inside you.

To quiet the voices, to drown the pain, you choose to do the one thing that would crush your loved ones’ hearts.

But, at least, finally you get your peace. And, eventually, you hope, that they’ll find peace in knowing that you are finally resting.

I am in no way condoning his decision, it hurts, and I can’t possibly imagine what his family is going through.

But, every time I put myself in his shoes, or in my own mother’s shoes, I can see how the battle can become overwhelming, and no amount of talk, love, or support can stop the disease, this darkness, from taking over.

Recently, (literally two days ago), we were ranked the sixth most depressed nation in the world.

That means hundreds of thousands of us are depressed, and our suicide rates are skyrocketing especially amongst our young men.

I think the best thing we can do is to be on the lookout for the earliest signs of depression in our family members, and act upon it immediately.

We need to help people fight their demons way earlier on before the disease spreads farther, and our love, support, and listening ears can’t do much to help.

It’s like cancer – early detection is the only way we can circumvent the effects of the disease.

And, depression is a disease. A serious one, and I’m tired of people my parents’ age not understanding this point, and behaving as if all those that are depressed are a bunch of entitled brats!

Some people are born predisposed to depression.

Others fall into it because of the poisonous societal conditions we’ve managed to create over the years, and seem unwilling to change at least for the sake of our collective mental health.

Right now, I’m at peace because my friend is in peace. He was so young, but somehow the disease had progressed to a point nothing we could do or say would have changed the path he chose to find that peace.

But, I know that in order to stop such a tragedy from happening again, I need to be extra ALERT and pick up on the earliest, smallest signs of depression exhibited by the people around me.

My conversations and interactions will be more meaningful, more insightful. It’s going to be me listening more rather than talking, and allowing my loved ones to be as free as possible around me.

I hope that somehow this helps, and I hope that you too, dear reader, get to do the same for your loved ones.

Anyway,

Goodbye until the next time I have something to tell you.

Kisses ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–

THE MOST IMPORTANT LESSON I LEARNT IN 2018

2018… it’s almost done, y’all, and I’m still here…. yaaaaaaaay!!

It’s been an interesting year for me, full of challenges, intrigues, and mysteries (psyche! My life isn’t that interesting).

I have had fun living this year, and I can honestly say that for most days in 2018, I lived my life with intention, I followed my passions (baby steps), and I remained true to myself.

For most days….

I think my biggest achievement this year was being able to prioritize my loved ones despite how crazy busy my schedule got, or I wanted it to get. I managed to do this by completely turning my life upside down (๐Ÿ˜ฎ๐Ÿ˜ฎ๐Ÿ˜ฎ) in order to accommodate the people who mean the absolute world to me.

Okay, maybe I’m being a tad dramatic as all I did was relocate from the capital city to upcountry (in order to help my mum manage her farm- she’s getting old and she can’t keep traveling to and from the city in order to oversee farm activity) where I spend most of my weekdays.

On the weekends, I travel back to the capital city in order to take my darling nephews to church every Sunday (I’m a Sunday School teacher, and a deacon, remember?), and to spend time with my best friend, John.

My new lifestyle took a lot of adjusting, but, honestly it’s been worth it. I feel whole now as opposed to how I felt at the beginning of the year. The depth of my relationships with my loved ones has increased, and all I had to do was just be there, be present.

Take my mum, for instance, we’ve become absolutely inseparable since I moved to the farm, (and began to spend weekends with her in the capital city).

Before I moved, I had no idea how much her age and deteriorating health (she’s a 70 year old with high blood pressure and diabetes) was affecting her life and her mobility. Don’t get me wrong, she can still move around and stuff, but she has so many things to manage, and it’s becoming very taxing for her.

She’s also quite forgetful nowadays, and her eyesight and hearing have had better days.

There’s also the loneliness bit of it. Aging can be lonely, that’s for sure!

I would have never known the challenges my mum was facing if I hadn’t stepped out of my self-centric comfort zone.

But, I am so glad that I have gotten the opportunity to make her life, in her old age, much easier, more comfortable, and more enjoyable.

She relies on me so much nowadays (including mentally and emotionally), and it’s an absolute honour for me. This beautiful lady has sacrificed everything for my brothers and I to be where we are today- and, I am glad that I am physically close enough to her to be able to give back to her every single day in all the ways that I can ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’–.

I can say the same thing about my relationships with my brothers and my best friend. My bonds with these boys is considerably stronger than they were a year ago.

I’m here when they need me, and they know that- what a spectacular feeling!!

Here’s a pic of me, two of my brothers, and my nephews.

The quality of my life has also dramatically improved- I can’t compare to how I was when I was living alone. Don’t get me wrong, living alone was immensely fun mainly because

– I like being alone most of the time (my company is that awesome),

– I am a workaholic (it’s not a good thing)

– I don’t like sharing my time (refer to the first point)

– I love routines. I am sure I have told you this before, but I absolutely love routines. Living alone meant that I could follow and enforce my own routines without anyone judging me or interrupting me

– My apartment was my sex pad, and I could dictate my sex calendar (so liberating)

BUT….

………it was still empty. Why? Because I wasn’t paying attention to the people that matter, people that actually yearn for my presence i.e. my mother, my best friend, my father, my nephews and my brothers (in that specific order).

My spirit wasn’t at peace knowing that I wasn’t giving the very best of myself to the people who have loved me through EVERY stage of my life.

There’s something very selfish about spending all of your time alone when there are people that love you and would love to share some of your time. I have been selfish for a very long while.

This by the way is my biggest weakness when it comes to relationships (familial, sexual, or romantic)- I just don’t like sharing my time with others (probably why I am still single)

But, I realize now that this is not the way to live. Something about the way I lived my life had to change in order for me to be the best daughter, the best sister, the best aunty, and the best best friend that I could possibly be.

That something involved relocating upcountry and traveling to the capital every weekend (it’s only 1 1/2 hours away).

The best part is: I was able to purchase a parcel of land just right next to my mum’s!!!๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜

My biggest lesson learnt in 2018 has brought with it an abundance of blessings, and I am truly happy that I chose this path.

I have found fulfilment in sharing my time with the people I love; I have found balance; I have found purpose ๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’–๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’–

And, you can too.. don’t wait until it’s too late!

THE BEDSWERVER’S SIDE TO THE STORY

‘Men are dogs! Men are dogs!’ย 

I have heard, and read this statement countless times since I was a little girl. We were taught to expect that men were animals, and they only look at us as conquests. Once they capture your heart, or your body, and in many instances both, they are on to the next one, and the cycle never ends. The victim here is always the woman because when she loves, she loves with all her heart. She is so innocent and so pure. And men, men are just pigs!!

This is the notion we grew up with as young girls, and for me, it played an incredible role in how I viewed men. We were taught that all men cheat, and we were taught to not only expect it but accept it as the norm. We were taught that there is nothing you can do about it, and your only two options were to stay single (which was deemed impossible and just plain weird because you can’t live without a man, duh) or accept that cheating is part and parcel of being a man, and just learn to live with it.

We were also taught that women don’t cheat. Women can’t cheat; women shouldn’t cheat. Women are too emotionally attached to sex, and it is unimaginable that they could be unfaithful to their partners (sad to say but there is a little ho in each and every one of us; societal dogma just forces women to keep their ho-ness on a leash, most of the time).

In my mind, it felt kind of unfair.ย The society tells us that cheating is wrong, but in most instances, members of one sex are less severely punished for this act than the other. This makes it seem that it is more acceptable for some of us to step out on our significant others but deemed an atrocious, unforgivable act for the rest of us.

This double standards always confused and angered me because it felt like I was being told what to do. For me, it was fine that cheating was in a man’s DNA. What was not fine was being told to accept it and live with it. If men could cheat and everyone is fine with it, so could I.

And cheat I did.ย In many of my ‘situationships’ with men throughout my late teens and early 20s, I was hardly 100% committed. I did not even try. It did not even bother me an inch, because, ‘hey, he’s probably cheating anyway, and I’m just trying to save myself some heartbreak. No one is getting hurt here’.

Wait a minute! Don’t throw the stones yet.

Let me be honest, I don’t think I would have been so hell-bent on cheating if it had not been drummed into my head that women weren’t allowed to cheat but men were. Most of the time, I was just proving a point; a big FUCK YOU to the society for trying to dictate how I should live my life (it sounds so stupid now).

I know this to be absolutely true about myself…I really do not like being told what to do especially if the instructions apply only to me because of certain physical characteristics that I cannot change e.g. my big forehead. It’s not really a feminist thing, it’s a hard-headed thing. I am a stubborn little person, and you cannot tell me what to do. If you try to tell me what I can or cannot do, I’ll find a way to prove you wrong, and annoy you in the process (I know; it’s a terrible, terrible, character flaw).

But, as I have grown older, I have realized that there is so much more to cheating than just stepping out on someone. For instance, in my case, it wasn’t just to prove that I too, a woman, was emotionally and physically capable of stepping out. It started out as simple as that but every experience shed light on the actual person I was at the time.

I realized later on, cheating came easy for me mainly because I have this inexplicable fear of getting close to people. Like, it’s a serious fear to a point of it being toxic. That probably stems from severe abandonment issues, and cheating was one way of ensuring that I do not get too attached to one particular person who might end up leaving and breaking my heart (daddy issues, anyone?).

Aside from that, I have noticed that cheating was my go-to tactic whenever I wanted to exit a situationship. It was my method of escapism from situations that I am not particularly comfortable to be in. I am not highly effective at communicating my feelings, my needs, my unhappiness, or my discomfort with the other individual. Hence, instead of continuing to suffer in the silence, I choose to cheat as an expression of my dissatisfaction with the significant other and ensure that he finds out about it.

Sometimes, this strategy would backfire, as some would forgive me for my indiscretions. This meant that I was still stuck in this situation, and I had to find other means to get myself out of it e.g. cutting off all communication for several days at a time. I would go to all of these extreme measures rather than just let the other party know that I was not happy and that I wanted to move on (I have never denied that I am a big coward when it comes to telling people what I think and how I feel).

Cheating was also easy because I mostly assumed that the other individual (almost always male) was also cheating. That is exactly what we were taught to expect, and my cheating was a way to ensure that his cheating did not sting as much. That I did not end up crying and shocked, and miserable when his indiscretions would be laid bare. My actions ensured that I would not be the victim like soooo many other women in sooooooo many relationships.

It was fun in the beginning, but it stopped being fun a long time ago. It almost became engrained in my personality, and often times I would find myself chantingย prayers begging the universe not to allow me to cheat. I’m in the house on my own endlessly chanting, ‘please do not let me cheat, please do not let me cheat, please do not let me cheat‘.

You get to see the monster and the coward you are when you’re stepping out on someone who actually trusts you. I have come to realize that in the end, you are hurting them, but not to the extent that you’re hurting yourself.

From this VERY limited experience, I have also come to see that cheating is not an overwhelmingly male characteristic, and often, cheating is not as simple as just men having an insatiable lust for the opposite sex, or their inability to keep it in their pants in the presence of individuals who are not their significant others, or the myth that men are allergic to/above commitment.

Nope. There is almost always an underlying personal (almost unique to their circumstances) element that pushes someone, male or female, to that point of stepping out.

People cheat.

We (men and women) cheat because we are unhappy; we cheat because we are sad. We cheat because we are scared of settling for less, but we really have not yet determined our worth.

People cheat because we are scared to be vulnerable.

People cheat because, growing up, some of us never really learned how to accept ourselves and the others around us for who we and they really are.

There is also a ‘biological‘ twist to the entire saga with many people actually genetically predisposed to promiscuity and infidelity. How do you fight against your own genetic makeup? HOW??

People cheat because of their own mental health issues. Some people cheat because they are narcissists.

People cheat because they feel a connection to others that they do not share with their significant ones. You only live once and you do not know if you will ever find such a connection again.

And then there are those instances where someone is just too attractive to let them pass you by without you giving your pudenda the opportunity to have a dalliance with theirs. Again, you only live once!!

The spectrum for reasons why people are unfaithful is so wide and it is not sex specific.

People cheat. Not just men. All of us. The media’s constant portrayal of men as players and emotionally inept smooth operators has had us believing that ALL men cheat ALL the time.

It’s a folklore that has shaped how the Kenyan men and women relate with one another. This folklore has been fanned by our mothers, grandmothers, elder sisters, and teachers who felt bitter that they had been cheated on and they were unable to return the favor, slowly slaving away in relationships they should have ended when they saw the signs. I can honestly deduce that majority of relationships in this great land of ours are RUBBISH!!

Men aren’t dogs who lack control over their gonads. Men are just people. We are all just people making stupid mistakes every day because we do not understand who we are, what our needs are, and how we can have these needs met without getting ourselves or others hurt.

Figure yourself out first before committing to someone you are not completely sure you can be faithful to. Because, in the end, cheatingย on someone who trusts you is wrong, regardless of the reasons behind your actions.

 

 

MOVIE! MOVIE! MOVIE!

Hey y’all, I hope you’re having a fantastic Wednesday evening. I am, so far. I’m just here downing my second glass of sugarcane juice. This juice is heavenly, and I am addicted.

Anyway, here we are.

I’ll keep this uncharacteristically short.

Drum roll, please.

My baby brother, my forever stomach buddy, made a movie. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Okay, he’s made several, some for class projects, and some for hobby-sake.

But this one is kind of special, I forget the reason why, but I know it’s special.

But everything my stomach-buddy does is special. He draws, he writes evocative stories, as well as writing and directing his own scripts/movies.

Yap, that’s my stomach-buddy transforming himself into a creative genius. I call him ‘stomach-buddy’ because we came from the same womb. He didn’t like the term at first, no one would though, because he did not get it, but now he likes it, and he responds to it. That and toto. There is this child-like innocence about him that makes toto so befitting especially when he is asking me a question. He’s a gem.

Here we are acting goofy!!

And, here he is being absolutely cool!!

So anyway, he made a really cool movie with some of his classmates, and I’m really proud of him and his work.

Here is the link to the trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7kDeBk7Y6E

Have an awesome rest of your week, and get some sugarcane juice too. It’s delicious.