Hi. I should say a few things.
Kids, that's why we don't document our mental breakdowns.
I.
Abeokuta is hot. I'm wondering for the umpteenth time if it's a good idea to move here. Sometimes there are answers that come to you served on a platter of gold. And sometimes you have to wade through the mess to find it.
It doesn't help that 3 out 4 of my medications cause me to overheat sometimes. I snigger thinking about this now. Like an overworked generator. I feel like that on most days.
I know Lagos the way a sheltered girl my age knows Lagos; not nearly enough. I've observed enough about Ibadan to know that she has high aspirations; she has been at the edge of enough history, glory and gore to have them.
But Abeokuta is no woman. Abeokuta is an old man who has seen enough of the world and is content. He has no aspirations. He is weary and just wants to sleep.
I'm asking myself these days “What the hell do you want?”
I don't know.
II.
I'm slowly finding out that home is not the absence of safety. ‘Look around Aisha” I tell myself on a good day. “What in this Dunya is safe?”
I am still that nine year child in a 25 year old woman’s body, asking God to please give me a resting place. It's come in different ways. In secondary school, I believed my resting place would be my best friend, so I made it my mission to have a best friend. It's evolved over time, but each time, God draws me out of my reverie and shows me “I am your resting place”
Now give me a moment here.
Do you know how hard it is for a not-at-all special, but very selfish human like me to conceive an abstract being like God, should be my resting place.
I am but a woman, guided by already flawed physical senses and wildly irrational emotions. My nafs, the baser self, is so fragile yet proud for nothing. Everything in me wants to be guided by the things I sense. But I am flawed, and so are my conclusions. So when I tell you it's hard for me to come to God sometimes, it's because it really is. I suppose it is for all of us. And that's comforting, because there is some solidarity in that.
III.
Wildly off topic, but I used to like this guy. And he ghosted me and it hurt. And then I saw that he celebrated a mile stone recently and I thought “Good on him, moving on”.
And I was elated at that thought. Because lately, I have been trying to let things go and failing at it. And whenever I fail at it, I rationalise that I can't have the said thing I'm holding onto because something in me is so broken that I push people away. And I think I highlighted that in my last, infamous letter.
I want to, when things are bad, remember that I am both good and bad. And I want to hold onto the lessons of the past, but let go of the memories that don't serve me or make me feel good. I want to remember that I'm someone who people love deeply. But most of all, I want to remember that my capacity for goodness can rival my capacity for evil. And so does yours. And yours, and yours. And Alhamdulillah for that Beloved.
IV.
Kids, if you can, don't document your emotional breakdowns. But if you do, make sure you write a follow up that explains to people that sometimes, people who are mentally ill have a skewed sense of self. And they don't see themselves the way they really are.
I don't see myself the way I am.
I hardly do. Healing is hard, and it's going to take however long or short I live.
I'm sorry that I thought so badly of God, and I despaired that much. The truth is Allah is always taking care of me. And all of us, but I can only speak with authority for myself. I know that I wish some things happened differently but they didn't.
And it's not okay, but it's okay. And I'm not really settled, and I'm scared shitless but it doesn't change the fact that Allah is taking care of me.
And just for today, I can live with that.