Mama Im so depressed xxx has cheated on me
"Ah that's not important you have a good job."
Can you believe what That Uche has been going around saying about me I'm so hurt
"You complain too much sha thank God you have so many degrees."
I feel so lonely I wish I had a friend
"with the amount of money you earn I wouldn't be worried about not having friends, go shopping"
I'm feeling suicidal I feel like I cant cope
"Don't be ridiculous, so many guys are falling over themselves trying to date you."
Its not that I don't count my blessings, I do, each and everyday, when I wake up and when I go to bed. It would not have mattered though if i didnt, for I can almost name more than 30 odd people who will most certainly be ready and willing to count them for me. Not that they need to wait for an invitation, my ears are already ringing from their constant remainders of how lucky or blessed I am .............. "You lucky you have a good job," " you lucky you so intelligent", "you are lucky you have such a close family," " you are lucky your parents. have so much money," "you are lucky that all your family members I still alive," "you are lucky you got that promotion," " i really envy you," "i wish i was like you," "you are my inspiration," "God has been really kind to you"...arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Wouldn't it drive you crazy as well? As if this was not enough they have voted me 'the most envied' person in my social network on facebook. I'm sick of it. Its not that I am ungrateful I more than anyone else am well aware that God has been more than merciful to me but I feel suffocated by the need / expectations from people to show how eternally grateful I am for the small mercies...well actually big mercies. Its not the fact that people remind me to be grateful that gets to me, its the fact that for some reason people believe that the trauma/ill will/bad luck/misfortunes/problems/catastrophes (yes catastrophes I have had my fair share of those in my 26yrs) that I go through are simply inconsequential/ or not worth recognising since my countless blessings make up for whatever hurt/pain/humiliation I might be enduring. Consequently I'm the type of purpose who has to wail loudly before some recognises that I am in pain, weeping silently will not cut it, and even when recognised my feelings are instantly dismissed as if they do not matter as if they are inconsequential simply because.....simply because I have achieved more than the odds for a 26year African woman.
I never get to have a voice ........this is the story of my life, I feel as if I'm being punished for having achieved more, having conquered despite the odds, even though I am where I am through blood sweat and tears. I hate the life I have, not that its not wonderful but that I don't matter enough, people have stopped seeing the real me and started seeing degrees, intelligence, a privileged upbringing etc, somehow I feel that were I to commit suicide the first comments would not be concern but would be reproach........ 'what a waste her life was great.' or 'she killed her self why? I thought she had a good job and all' (no i dont plan to commit suicide).
In fact this business of thinking that somehow it was justified for me to have painful or whatever experiences just because the odds were always in my favour, started when I was quite young. I remember my parents sent me to an extremely expensive private school. So expensive was it that it took my dads two months wages to pay a terms fees and even at that time he earned a lot. My mother never made me forget this. Somehow it was okay for me to be bullied (we were only a handful of black kids) at school (not that it was okay but simply I was supposed to be grateful because my other siblings although they were at private school as well their fees was not nearly as high as mine) It was 'okay' for me not to go on holiday simply because I went to the expensive school. It was okay for me not to have as much holiday pocket money as the others after all they were going without (yeah right) so that my parents could fund my expensive education. From a very early age I learnt to shut up about my pain. I did not want to complain or let anyone know that I was unhappy I learnt to feel guilty for being unhappy which even made me unhappier which then made me even guiltier and ashamed of myself which made me even more depressed then i would feel even guiltier (if there is such a word) for being depressed when i should be grateful.......in short it became a vicious circle.
It probably still is up to now, i still have to think twice before I say my problems to people then I have to say them 5times before they are taken seriously. I remember once after a very traumatic incident absolutely no one comforted me, when I tried to reach out to people they simply told me not to be silly, my life was good, how they envied me....I remember calling my cousin in tears telling her that I was feeling suicidal and I couldn't cope anymore, I remember her telling me not to be silly and to compose myself I was the luckiest person in the world and that a lot of people envied my life....she said to me she was cooking and that I should call her back when I have had a grip on reality...don't be silly she said..if only she knew that at that precise moment I was very close to the brink. Do you know that a large percentage of suicides are committed by people who are middle class and above? Not that its a sport of the rich fabulous or fantastic only but statics show that they are more suicides committed than by poorer people.....guess that's why people say money doesn't buy you happiness.....which is not true..... its because people are too busy thinking that your money should buy you your happiness that they don't make the effort to ensure that you are really and truly happy like they would for a less well to do relative.
I guess I'm sick and tired of having to shout to be heard, having to stand last in line when it comes to receiving compassion, kindness, cuddles or warmth from other people simply because I have been unduly blessed. Just because God has been merciful to me doesn't change the fact that I am still human, I've insecurities, I have days that I feel ugly, periods of time when I feel that the world is closing in on me , crushing me and I can not breathe. There will be days when I could use a shoulder to cry on, months when I would gladly trade my life for yours, there will be weeks when I don't get out of bed, mornings when I weep and cry to God why me Jehovah? It doesn't mean I am ungrateful or have lost sight of the countless blessings that I have....its just that I'm human, and countless blessings or great mercies if you cut me open I bleed... (sorry Leona Lewis). So next time if I'm in despair and I could do with a friend, please don't recite my numerous blessings, just give me a hug . I could do with a friend and not a blessings accountant.
For sometimes late at night, when they lay naked in their beds with only the clock ticking to keep them company, long after safes are locked and the banks have closed, well after expensive clothes lie in the laundry basket, the jewellery is removed and the jaguar is parked in the garage. Long after the stock market has closed, when the house help has gone home,and the curtains are drawn, and they are overwhelmed by a deep sense of loneliness................ sometimes the rich.......actually........ sometimes I, just like the rich also cry.
Flabby wrote a similar post only saw it after i had written mine but its worth checking out My Side of the Story!: My right to hurt
PS: This post is in response to someone who was concerned that my posts are rather 'dark'. I am happy with most aspects of my life, career, home etc but i struggle in others. I normally have an outlet for my joy but i struggle in terms of expressing my pain (hopefully this post has explained why) and thats why i blog. PS: I am not rich!!!!!!!!!!!
Those of you who ever lived or actually still live in Africa will be able to understand this analogy. Remember how back in the day (don't know if its still the practice) you could buy a live chicken and take it home to kill, skin and cook? remember sometimes how after looking forward to the whole 'we are going to eat chicken huha' the damn animal smells death and does a runner and those members of the household unfortunate enough to still be called kids would have to chase the damn animal across the yard until you eventually catch it or until your intended dinner escapes from the yard never to be seen again?........I wonder sometimes whether calling a coward 'chicken' was solely derived from such incidents.
