Love with Sprinkles 💖

 As you know, my last Father's Day post tugged at the heartstrings a bit. But I won't be a downer today. Let me indulge my mushy side for a moment.

I'll be honest: I kind of have a "Daddy issue." Not that I had a deadbeat dad, but I never got to meet mine. So, I might have been unconsciously searching for a father figure in my potential love interests. LOL!

Over the years, I've learned, unlearned, and relearned some things, mostly about loving healthily. 

I never had many standards when picking a partner. As long as he was nice, serious, and, oh yeah, "wanted to build a family," I was smitten. 

But in the past three years, I've come to understand what it means to have standards, why they're important, and what true love is.

Love is a choice, a decision. It's choosing someone you connect with most deeply and making the most of that choice. It's choosing a home.

And in my home of three years, I've become a more beautiful version of myself.

Now, let's talk about my Home for a bit. It's a place that knows me like no other. On most days, I could swear we were twins who shared a womb! We have so many similarities and personality traits in common. We both love the comfort of each other's presence, the cold air, art, long walks, and having deep conversations. Oh, you should see us banter – it's such an animated sight!

My home has taught me to be kinder to myself and made me understand that I can't do it all alone.

He allows me to be a little girl again, to giggle all day and forget about the weight on my shoulders, even if it's just for a minute.

I can come home and completely fall apart because he'll help me pick up the pieces and tell me that failure isn't the end; I just have to try again.

My home is supportive, listens and cheers me on every day. He makes the absolute best turkey egusi soup, and he buys me ice cream when I have a bad day.

He reminds me to take care of myself because my well-being is important too.

My home goes the extra mile to make sure his princess is happy, and he's intentional about it.

He might not speak much, but his actions speak volumes.

So, to my home and to all the other homes out there, thank you for being warm when the world is cold. Thank you for being a haven.

Happy Father's Day to all who make sure to provide for their families. We love you deeply, and thank you for loving us so much.

XOXO,

Dee

Adulting Can Be Rosy Too.

My boyfriend says I spend too much time thinking about others instead of putting myself first. I daresay, he is not wrong. I guess I have always been used to thinking of others before myself, putting their needs before my own. Even if the little energy left should go to resting, I end up giving it away. I guess you could call it my bad habit.

I feel things more deeply than most people, and it affects my relationships. I start to feel their despair, their ambitions, and their happiness ten times more intensely than they do. I start to formulate plans on their behalf and strain myself to go the extra mile, even if I am not feeling up to it.

In all honesty, I never saw anything wrong with it until I realized that my mental health had deteriorated, and I was a walking apocalypse.

The littlest remark would set me off, and I’d either lash out or eventually pass out from crying so hard.

I am not perfect. I know this now.

I shouldn’t expect people to care as deeply as I do, and I shouldn’t expect to receive care the way I give it.

Sometimes I think my bad habit stems from how I was raised, but I won’t blame it on that. I definitely got used to believing that I had to earn love, which is why I find it hard to believe when people say they like me for me. I mean, what’s so special about me, right?

I’m not your typical beauty, and I’m not so agreeable. I have my own thoughts and strong opinions, and I’m as stubborn as an eel.

Hence my weariness.

I say words of affirmation are my primary love language, but I think that actions mean more to me.

I register actions first before I listen to the words.

Because people can lie while smiling, but their actions are never wrong.

It took me so many years to figure that out.

So maybe I am now truly learning what it means to be an adult, among other things.

The biggest realization that hit me recently is that while making money, building the right network, and always bringing value to the table are necessary, taking breaks and allowing myself to live are equally important and essential.

Real love is golden, and all the money in the world can’t buy that. I need to allow myself to be loved, I need to love myself too, and I sure as hell need to create boundaries and distance myself from people who only want to take advantage of my kindness.

So while I’m chasing the stars and making sure my community is growing, I need to also take care of little Dee. She needs me too.

XOXO

I Love You 🤍

 To be honest, I’m not really sorry for the long hiatus. I needed a break from writing and honestly, this doesn’t mean that I’m back. I’ve just been in my feelings lately and wanted to put this out here. So if you get this, know that I am fine and I definitely do not want to talk. 

Six years ago, on this day, I saw you fighting for your life—fighting to breathe, fighting to wake up, fighting to live. I prayed, wishing and hoping you would recover, praying my biggest nightmare wouldn't come true. But the next day, after so many prayers and crying myself to sleep, I woke up to the news of your death.

I knew I did my best, playing my part as the perfect daughter to keep you happy and ease the stress of being a single parent. That was my way of loving you. In the typical Nigerian family setting, we hardly ever told each other we loved each other, but I felt your love every day. That’s why I wanted to be your perfect little girl the best way I knew how. When I heard the news and cried, I didn’t feel like I was grieving enough. I had questions. Why did it have to happen now? We had plans. I was to go to school, study law, and come home every weekend to keep you company. You even said you’d enroll in a master's program, and we might end up being roommates. We laughed at that, but I looked forward to it because I felt your support and dedication to my dreams. You always listened to me, even when I rambled on. I was a tiresome child, wasn’t I?

But when most people wouldn’t take me seriously, you would. Because your daughter was talking, and that meant it was important. We used to dance together, and I’d listen to you sing. Your voice was mesmerizing, and even the sound of your laughter was like music to my ears. That’s why, when I was asked to pen my goodbye note for the burial program, I bolted and locked myself in the bathroom, shrieking and crying because I couldn’t bear to think it was really happening. That my mummy was leaving me.

I thought to myself, was that why you called the week before and gave me that silver ring you loved so much? Your gaze felt so intense while giving it to me. It felt like you had made up your mind to leave something for me to remember you by, a piece of you to look back on and guard close to my heart because you knew you’d be leaving soon.

I wondered why you couldn’t stay to see all our plans materialize and then maybe sit side by side like we always did and make new ones. I thought to myself, maybe that’s why making plans and scheduling things became my go-to fun things to do.

I watched your body lying lifeless, with flies perching on your dried-up skin, beckoning you to wave them off, but you couldn’t. We had an open coffin, and everyone, both frenemies and family, surrounded you, crying and wailing. 

I couldn’t shed a tear because, of course, we shouldn’t be seen crying on such a day; our so-called enemies might see that as an opportunity to put a spell on us or work their juju. 

I watched them cover your coffin. It was done. You were six feet under. We got home and met a feast. I asked myself, what is there to celebrate? Why are we having people over? None of you were at the burial ground when I buried my mother. Why do I have to serve you with a smile on my face? 

Weeks after, it still didn’t sink in.

Then one day, it finally dawned on me that I’d lost the greatest gift I had. The one person who loved me unconditionally, the one person who understood me, my original best friend, and I won’t get her back. 

Even now, six years after, it’s so saddening that whenever I have big news or sad news, I can’t call you or run to you. Because my mama is gone… And I have to live with that hurt, whilst trying to see you in every single thing.

XX,

Dee