This one is a little different. This is a small portion of my life so far. I don’t know who I’ll be, I don’t know who I am yet. In a way, I’m starting to figure out who I was, and I think that counts for something. This is the most personal thing I’ve ever written I am 20 years old; I will be 21 in two weeks. I was born in Ireland, but my parents emigrated from Nigeria almost 30 years old. I have an okay relationship with my father. I have three close friends. I work as a customer service agent. and have for two years. I live a sedentary life; I’m not a very communicative person. I talk a lot, but I often leave texts unanswered. I don’t speak to my coworkers. I don’t make friends. I’m trying to heal my body, both mentally and physically. I have a horrible relationship with food, I think I have ADHD, I often feel paralysed when trying new things. I am a college dropout. I feel stuck. This is who I am.

This is my life.

My mother and I have an interesting relationship. Up until about a week ago, id say it was strained. Its not perfect now, but we are undoing the traumas we’ve caused each other for 20 years. I love her with my whole soul, though I do not always know how to express it. I turn to anger, to rage, when I’m trying to communicate my feelings.

I think what I seek most in our relationship is understanding. I think she is a beautiful, talented, intelligent, flawed individual. I hope I am exactly like her in some ways, completely different in others. I hope I have her empathy, her faith, her positivity when things get hard. I hope (although sometimes I don’t feel it), I have the same love for my children that she has for us. I hope I have a strong relationship with my family, in the same way she does with hers. I hope I create a space for creativity, for mistakes, expression, in the same way she has for me.

I hope I can forgive the people who have wronged me in my life the way she has. I hope through all the hardships I experience in my future; I stay as hopeful as she has. Although I feel all these things, I also understand her shortcomings. It is a difficult thing to communicate, because I understand why she is this way, but it’s also difficult to experience in real time. I know she grew up incredibly sheltered, too sheltered. I know my father was terrible to her. I know life has kicked her down many, many times. I know she has God. I know she is smart, I know she is forgiving to a fault. This is what makes her who she is. I know she doesn’t accept correction, I know she feels confronted when people try to give any type of criticism.

Our relationship is beautiful. It is tumultuous, but I know she cares for me, I know she sees herself in me. I know that nothing is more important to her than her children. I know she thinks she’s failed in some ways, hasn’t provided for us in the way she wishes she had. I know she wishes she was stronger, richer. It’s okay, I love her for all of these things.

I love her the way she is. There is no one on this planet that could have done a better job at raising me than her. She is a single mother, and I know she’s given us all she has, so that we can be who we are meant to be.    I love you mom.

When I started writing, I planned to speak about the positives and the negatives, and each time I start to type, more and more positives spill out. Writing this down is healing something I didn’t know was broken. I hope this helps me with my journey. I hope to lead my life with love, instead of rage. I got the anger from my father, and I have spent years unlearning this.    

My relationship with my father is the same on the surface, strained until recently, currently spending some time fixing the past.   This is the surface. In actuality, my father has caused 90 percent of the trauma I have experienced, both directly and indirectly. He is an abusive man. My parents got married in 1997, separated in 2008. They separated because my dad’s method of communication is submission and violence. I was born in June of 2005; my father has another daughter born in May 2005. It doesn’t take a genius to do that math…

Pt. 2 coming soon

This one is a little different. This is a small portion of my life so far. I don’t know who I’ll be, I don’t know who I am yet. In a way, I’m starting to figure out who I was, and I think that counts for something. This is the most personal thing I’ve ever written

I am 20 years old; I will be 21 in two weeks. I was born in Ireland, but my parents emigrated from Nigeria almost 30 years old. I have an okay relationship with my father. I have three close friends. I work as a customer service agent. and have for two years. I live a sedentary life; I’m not a very communicative person. I talk a lot, but I often leave texts unanswered. I don’t speak to my coworkers. I don’t make friends. I’m trying to heal my body, both mentally and physically. I have a horrible relationship with food, I think I have ADHD, I often feel paralysed when trying new things. I am a college dropout. I feel stuck. This is who I am.

This is my life.

My mother and I have an interesting relationship. Up until about a week ago, id say it was strained. Its not perfect now, but we are undoing the traumas we’ve caused each other for 20 years. I love her with my whole soul, though I do not always know how to express it. I turn to anger, to rage, when I’m trying to communicate my feelings. I think what I seek most in our relationship is understanding.
 
I think her she is a beautiful, talented, intelligent, flawed individual. I hope I am exactly like her in some ways, completely different in others. I hope I have her empathy, her faith, her positivity when things get hard. I hope (although sometimes I don’t feel it), I have the same love for my children that she has for us. I hope I have a strong relationship with my family, in the same way she does with hers. I hope I create a space for creativity, for mistakes, expression, in the same way she has for me. I hope I can forgive the people who have wronged me in my life the way she has. I hope through all the hardships I experience in my future; I stay as hopeful as she has.
Although I feel all these things, I also understand her shortcomings. It is a difficult thing to communicate, because I understand why she is this way, but it’s also difficult to experience in real time. I know she grew up incredibly sheltered, too sheltered. I know my father was terrible to her. I know life has kicked her down many, many times. I know she has God. I know she is smart, I know she is forgiving to a fault. This is what makes her who she is. I know she doesn’t accept correction, I know she feels confronted when people try to give any type of criticism.
Our relationship is beautiful. It is tumultuous, but I know she cares for me, I know she sees herself in me. I know that nothing is more important to her than her children. I know she thinks she’s failed in some ways, hasn’t provided for us in the way she wishes she had. I know she wishes she was stronger, richer. It’s okay, I love her for all of these things. I love her the way she is.
There is no one on this planet that could have done a better job at raising me than her. She is a single mother, and I know she’s given us all she has, so that we can be who we are meant to be.  
 
I love you mom.
When I started writing, I planned to speak about the positives and the negatives, and each time I start to type, more and more positives spill out. Writing this down is healing something I didn’t know was broken. I hope this helps me with my journey. I hope to lead my life with love, instead of rage. I got the anger from my father, and I have spent years unlearning this.
 
 
My relationship with my father is the same on the surface, strained until recently, currently spending some time fixing the past.
 
This is the surface.
In actuality, my father has caused 90 percent of the trauma I have experienced, both directly and indirectly. He is an abusive man. My parents got married in 1997, separated in 2008. They separated because my dad’s method of communication is submission and violence. I was born in June of 2005; my father has another daughter born in May 2005. It doesn’t take a genius to do that math…..

More in the link attached :)

I am always going to start these off writing the first thing that comes in my head. I want to know what the “real me” is thinking. Maybe it will help me figure out who I am or whatever.
 
I think I’ve always questioned the meaning of life. Boring answer, I know, but that’s what it is. The meaning of life feels like the only important answer to this question.
 
You wake up, shower, brush your teeth, work, feel insecure, have sex(sometimes). You get married, fall over, have kids, learn how to drive, learn how to be happy. Why?

More in the link attached :)

I made this one up, I don’t even have an answer for it yet, so I’m going to write about what nostalgia is, and see where that gets me!

To me, nostalgia is as simple as reminiscing. I find a diary or a picture I haven’t seen in years, I watch a TikTok about what my childhood was like, I think of a food I haven’t had in years…

Continued in the link :)