I do not remember most of my childhood; everything from my secondary to my primary school days is really a blur. I hardly remember people, I do not remember events, and for a long time I thought the problem was with my brain, but I realise that I purposely shut those parts out because they were my dark years.
Although I do not remember events, I remember the way I felt I always felt. I always felt confused, alone, rejected, unworthy, and a host of other negative emotions coupled with rebellion. I invented ways to be rebellious; sometimes I wonder to what end, I just ended up hurting my parents.
I have always been certain of my father’s love for me. It is so rooted in my heart and in the very core of my being. I mean I am his favourite, even in the midst of the negative emotions and the whips that coursed through my body, I always knew he loved me and I always know that anything I ask for, he will give.
My relationship with my mum was different. I think it was a God and Israel kind of relationship, she always longed for me to love her and to show just how much she loved me, but I was too stubborn and too focused on rebelling that I didn’t see it. We did not have the best relationship when I was growing up, when my siblings would sit around her and tell her of their day, I was either watching television or just minding my business. And I remember that she will always ask “what is wrong with you, why are you different from your sisters.”
I always answered her with a blank stare because I also didn’t know why I was different, why I was hesitant, why I was insecure and why I cried a lot.
My family realised I had low self-esteem about two years ago, but, they didn’t know how bad it was. I had just told my dad that I will not be going for a Masters because I just didn’t believe I would do well. My dad told my mum, and as a proper Yoruba woman who loved her child, she told my siblings. Everybody became therapists; it was the worse time for me psychologically and emotionally.
She woke up me up with bible passages and stories that touched. Encouraging sermons, I mean my mother went all out, sending me different links and what not. They did not help, she and every member of my family successfully made me feel odd.
I understood that they were trying to help, but they ended up choking me.
I moved out of the house in the month of February, I started staying at a relative’s because their place is closer to my office than my house. I had been away from home before but I think that this time it was different for my mum and I because we had started to bond, it was easy to talk to her, rub mind and just be mum and daughter.
Then on the 9th of April, I decided to go home, I didn’t tell anyone I was going home, it was my nephew’s birthday and I decided to surprise him.
I ended up being surprised.
As I walked into the house, my mum was the first to see me. She screamed so loud and held on to me for so long. She was so excited to see me; one would think I was gone for a year. But, it was a good feeling and from that moment on, something locked in my spirit.
My mum loves me.
She loves my rebellious way, she loves my rigid ways. She loves my crooked teeth and my gigantic nose.
My mum in two minutes broke all the walls she had been trying to break for the past twenty-three years.
I don’t think she has ever displayed that much love to me she might have and I was too busy being rebellious to notice.
Sometimes, people with low self-esteem do not need the sermons and the therapy, we just need a hug. I had no idea how powerful hugs were until my mum hugged me.
You have no idea how powerful love is until you realise that Jesus died on the cross for you. That’s how worthy you are, that’s how loved you are, that’s how perfect you are, that how forgiven you are. He took your place, took your punishment so that you may be reconciled to the God forever.
I am always here if you want to talk.
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