Dear Steemians,
I would love to share a part of me with you today, please kindly leave your thoughts in the comment box.
A broken home, a broken family led to a broken me.
Being the only soil in the land of just 4, I had everything as a growing child. I didn't lack anything but in between the plenty was little.
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Little love or rather should I say no love. The little care and love I got from my mother despite the pain she went through for standing and fighting to stay back for her children, after every combat, where the award winning prize was always given to my Dad, was finally taken far away from me.
I mean for heaven’s sake who beats a full grown lady who is supposed to be your wife with what we Nigerians call “KOBOKO” which is made from the tail of a horse and sometimes use wire, almost every day. My mum was the closest person to me both at home and in school because I was and still am a very timid and secretive person. But with her I could share anything, well she did pamper me a lot especially days when my dad would try to beat me for doing wrong. She would defend me and make me believe that it’s alright to make mistakes after all I’m a man.
The wind from 6 feet kept knocking on the door of our house, as my mother suffered from a heart disease, she visited different hospitals and spent money to purchase different drugs. My father never cared at this point. He only provided cash for the drugs, I knew he felt guilt but his ego wouldn’t allow him bring himself to show that he cared.
“Hey Baby, be strong and be a fighter never allow anyone bully you and ride a bicycle over you”…. I laughed even in pains she was still very cheerful. The moon had smiled to the ground of the earth, it was time for mother to have her bath, I stepped into her room to let her know her water was ready. But there was no need… she had welcomed in the wind from 6 feet below. She was gone!
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I couldn’t bring myself to believe it, I couldn’t cry either. "She is alive…" I kept saying this to myself. "Oh no! This is not happening". I’ll be left alone with a father who did not care about my well-being. It was time to face life but the atmosphere I came in contact with led me to my predicament today. How do I get out of this mess?
College time…
It was time to move on. I had finished secondary school at an early age and was making plans to head into the university. The first year I tried didn’t work out. So I was basically idle at home, doing nothing rather I invited friends over to the house and indulged in activities that has destroyed my life today. As a young teenager i wanted to try out almost everything if only I knew they were the wrong things. Few months after I had gotten admission into the university after trying again. I met some new fellas who introduced me to a new world... The 'happening world"... the smoking world... God!
This was life.
I graduated from smoking local cigarette to Indian hemp, marijuana, and then weed. I started drinking and doing all other stuffs that Niggas and Babes like me were indulging themselves into.
When I returned home I would try to conceal it from my dad but he always suspected something was wrong. But I didn’t care. I starting losing it and my dad reduced the amount of cash which he deposited into my account. So I started stealing from him. Well he found out later, I had to look for another means.
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I laid my issue to a friend of mine who directed me to someone who would make me “blow” in no time. I was super happy at least I didn’t have to deliver a human head, I just had to buy some materials and pay some cash. So on the fateful day, he took me to an Ifa who I later discovered was a “babalawo”. I was given a concoction to drink and a liquid potion to apply on my body at night and pray with. I wasn’t the same after I took this concoction. My smoking routine escalated. I was losing it, I carried out the prayer session every night but I always felt like some unseen spirits were hovering around me thus causing me to be restless. My father tried to find out what was wrong with me but I would yell and scream at him and prolly in the process break couple of things in the house. I was going insane. I wasn’t seeing the wealth I sought for from the house of the Ifa rather I was acting like a lunatic.
One fateful day, my dad heard me crying and screaming due to the strong migraine I felt. I felt like my head was about to explode. My dad tried to calm me down and take me to a hospital but I fought him and fled from the house. Fortunately some persons in the neighborhood seized me, placed me in my dad’s car and headed for the hospital.
I was doomed. The doctors did all they could do at that point. I even had a brain surgery. But I was not healed completely. Few days later, I found myself locked with chains and locks in a church. I needed spiritual healing.
Prayers session were held for my sake. A lot of cash was spent on drugs, I watched my father during this time. Then I knew he didn’t want to lose me too. After months of not going to school and being confided to a particular room, I was finally discharged to go home. But there was an issue. My brain was not mature enough to carry the kind of hard drugs I was taking, though the doctors were able to flush out a lot out of my system, I still had some crises.
Most time my eyes would roll until the white part of my eyes were seen making one think I was dead or blind. I still had the migraine, sometimes restless and always shouting at every little thing or correction that was pointed out to me. I had an extra year automatically but I wasn’t moved. I can’t read like I used to. All day long I just sit in my room with my phone, eat and take my drugs. I lost hope and faith in Jesus too, I mean why didn’t he stop me or was it me who refused to listen. Now I need help, I really wanna get myself back. I want to be a better person. It’s not gonna be so easy but I won’t give up.
THE STORY OF A 19 YEAR OLD MALE TEENAGER.
....mizdais.....
Proud member of the Stach community.
