Through the Eye of Life’s Lens.
Lately, I’ve been told and called so many things, wicked, cold-hearted, uncaring. At the same time, some people still see me as good old Ekab. Caring, good-spirited, nice, and amazing.
The one thing that I a proudest of is being called a “creative”. I’ll tell you why.
In 2018, a few months after my NYSC, I was on a suicide mission, literally. I was so depressed, I didn’t think life had meaning anymore.
I was ready to end things, and I had just the perfect way to do it. If you’ve ever watched “13 reasons why”, and you see how Hannah did it, you’d think it’s the best way in the world to do it. By “do it”, I mean to end your life.
I was all set. My blade was ready, well kept in its pack. I checked from time to time to ensure that it wasn’t getting any rust. The process needed to be smooth.
I told my boyfriend then, now ex about it, and he said a few things, but I was so determined. It was so bad, my mum came to talk to me about it. It wasn’t meant to be, usually, I’m very good at hiding my pain, but it seemed like this one wasn’t going anywhere.
What caused it? you might ask. Anger, frustration, things not going according to my plan. That was it. From my plans to finally leave Nigeria to further my education in God knows what course, to not preparing for life and adulthood in Nigeria. I crumbled.
I always kept the blade safely on the reading table in my room, but at some point, I felt the D-day was nigh so I moved it to my dresser, which was probably less than arm’s length from my bed. I was ready. I might have sampled it on my skin a couple of times. This part is fussy, it seems my brain has drowned out some things.
I was all set because it was all I could think about. Going to work, coming back from work, meeting people, talking to them, was vague. I just needed it to end, until one day.
This day, was like every other day, but still different in its own way. Amidst my depressive state, something struck me. It was more like a question. “Why am I on this earth?”. It was like I was then set on a journey to figure that out.
From that moment, I felt my heart ease up a little bit as I searched for the answer to the question. From watching videos to researching things online, to reading my Bible. Things were getting clearer, but not yet in the way, I needed them to be.
I watched videos that told me to look back, to my childhood days. Who was I ?, What was I interested in? I looked back, yes I loved reading, the librarian was my good friend, yes I was also good friends with my art teacher and spent long hours in the art studio, Yes I was a die-hard fan of my sister’s comic, but what exactly did that say about me, and what I’m meant to do in life?
I remember that when I was in Primary five, and I still had a while to get to the age of ten, we were made to write a story for British Council, and my story was picked among hundreds I believe, alongside some others.
Did that mean I was meant to write for the British council? Nope.
I decided to keep going and digging deeper. Months had passed. I was no longer suicidal, but still, a tad depressed. I was getting better. I love to cook and bake so I dived into that. Learning more things, creating recipe books, and researching things I’d need for that, I even had a whole business strategy that was going to work out well to my knowledge.
With that, I went on to start getting equipment. I went oven hunting but came back empty because I hadn’t seen the one I liked for the price I could afford. Eventually, I realized, I was probably going to get tired of it because it involved people directly and I loved my solitude. What to do next? Crafts.
I dove right into crafts like a hungry bear. I tried things, brought this and that, discussed it with my then-boyfriend, and then like dust, it eventually went into the wind. Now what?
I decided to try my luck at furthering my education again. With a renewed sense of hope and determination. I wrote my letter, about why I wanted to study what I wanted to study. I paid the fees I needed to pay, I submitted things I needed to submit, I even went to an all-night prayer program. It was there I asked that “God’s will be done”. After that, felt a sense of peace and calm that.
Finally, after the hitches and struggles and months of waiting and praying, I got admitted. I was overjoyed, told the people that needed to know, and started preparing for my new life.
Now what?
