Whenever I think of my second year at the university, I get this uncomfortable feeling in my gut. That was the first time I properly went through depression, and I wasn’t even aware of it till I’d had enough and made a scary but right decision for myself.
It all started when I was in search of accommodation for the new school session. My fellow students were flocking into school from every angle, and here I was, with my ever loving and supportive mother by my side, making inquiries from our hotel for any available lodges or roommates.
Luckily for us, a friend of my mom’s saved the day by connecting me to a family friend of his. Apparently, the girl was a student at a nearby school. She was older than me and already had a fully furnished room to herself. We quickly made arrangements to pay half of the rent and move my stuff in.
This is where the issue began, because I am pretty sure that if I had been around when my stuff was moved in, I would have disagreed and looked for another place. But that morning I decided to go to class, and while I was there, my mom and her friend moved my things into the room.
My mom traveled back home that day, and I was left to my devices in the foreign state of Enugu. After the day’s class, I went back "home,” and boy was I disappointed; the room looked like a single prison cell!
There was a very thin mattress with two pillows on the floor, and right above it was a hanger where she hung her clothes. Then on the other wall stood a collapsible cupboard filled with her clothes and shoes. On the wall adjacent to the cupboard were a table and chair, then a fridge with a microwave on top.
She also had a TV and a decoder all set up in that tiny room. Quite frankly, I was surprised that there was room left to fit my bags in.
I finally looked up. Standing in front of me was a pretty girl who looked to be in her mid-twenties, she was definitely older than I was. I stretched out my hand to greet her.
“Hi, I’m Ifunanya, and I go to the university just across College Road. Nice to meet you, and thanks for accommodating me,” I said, trying to muster up some joy.
“I’m Blessing, and welcome to your new room. I go to IMT,” she said as she took my hand and shook it firmly.
I looked into her eyes as we shook hands, not knowing that I had just made the worst decision of my life. I already felt uncomfortable, like I was encroaching on her space, but it was too late to do anything about it.
At first, things were great. I would go to school every weekday and come back in the evenings, sometimes to an empty room. The introverted part of me would jump up and down at the thought of being alone until she got back.
We even used to cook together, although her cooking was better than mine. She assisted me when I wanted to buy my cupboard and some other things. Now, the reason I think it didn’t work out between us was because we were both introverts. If I didn’t talk, she wouldn’t say anything to me. We were both okay with silence, but it got toxic.
Months passed by, and then I think she gradually got sick of having a roommate. Every now and then she would make these snide remarks about how I walked, talked, or slept. I didn’t notice all of this until one day I was at school.
I had bought food to eat at a restaurant on campus when my phone rang. I picked up my phone and checked, and “Dad” flashed on the screen. I accepted the call and greeted him.
"Hello, Daddy, good afternoon, sir," I greeted.
“Good afternoon, my dear. How are you doing and how is school?” He inquired.
“School is fine oo, I’m on my break and just bought rice. I hope everything is okay." I asked; it was abnormal for him to call at this time.
“Everything is fine. Your roommate called me to ask if you saw the money she kept in her bag.” He asked, unsure.
"Money ke, she didn't tell me she was looking for her money, and why did she call you instead of just asking me?" My blood began to boil at the sheer disrespect.
“Nevermind if you didn’t see it, and don’t get angry,” he advised.
We ended the conversation and hung up. I was so mad that I lost my appetite. How dare she call my father and ask such a stupid question? Why didn’t she just ask me? What difference would it make?
I wasn’t even angry at the fact that she thought I stole her money; it was her audacity to bring my father into it that made me crazy. I left the restaurant and walked the anger off.
By the time I got home, I was ready to throw hands. But to my disappointment, she wore an apologetic look on her face and began apologizing. Apparently she had changed the spot where she kept the money and had forgotten. I warned her sternly to never try that mistake again.
It was after this incident that I began to notice her passive aggression towards me. When I walked, she would remark that I walked like a boy. When I cooked, she always made sure to let me know how bad it tasted. She would wake me up whenever I snored while I slept because apparently,I snored too loudly.
This caused me to isolate myself from others, and I refused to bring friends back to my place because I didn’t want them to see what I went through. When I complained to friends, they would tell me to move into the hostel, but I didn’t think I could withstand the poor living conditions.
This continued till I couldn’t take it anymore, and I exploded. That day, I called her every name under the sun. I didn’t even mind that she was older than me; I made sure to let her know just how vile she was to me. I remember screaming and slamming the door on her face, then leaning to take the umpteenth long walk after a fight.
During this evening walk, I bought myself a sprite. With each sip of the sprite, I made the promise to myself that that would be the last time I would ever live in a lodge away from campus.
I had been hesitant about the idea of staying in the school hostel because I was scared I wouldn’t cope with the poor living conditions, but I finally realized that it was time to grow up and pushed past that fear. It was high time I built some courage and moved out of that toxic environment.
Luckily, it was the end of the school session, so by the time I got back from the holidays, I had finally moved out.
