I have my episodes, like I did this past week and a lot of times they are triggered by very innocuous, mundane things. such as a break in my rituals.
Sometimes, I can’t even put a finger on the precise point of trigger, or even encapsulate my emotions properly in words. What I do know, however, is that as hard as it may be to get out of that bed and bathrobe and face your day, for those of us who go through these down times, it’s very important to focus on daily pick-me-up rituals. They have a way of keeping you grounded.
I don’t think I’m very mad,
I just rehearse by talking to myself
and all the other voices
that have taken up residence
inside my head.
I make friends with them.
My latest resident is a mystery,
her name is ‘Madame Cecily.’
She loves dressing in deep rich colours
and laughs a little too loudly.
She’s full of wit and fiery independence,
her purse is full of surprises.
She’s not one for tepid tea
but stiff copious cups of warm brew.
Her caustic tongue makes grown men cry
yet her bosom has put many to rest.
She’s not one to suffer fools
but her humour brings tears to the eyes.
She ran Miss Flighty into a corner
and flirts endlessly with Beau,
told Lady Dampers a few home truths,
and Lord Lugard, she called a bombastic fool.
She told me that I was too eager to please
I certainly wasn’t too pleased with her.
With a twinkle in her mischievous, knowing eyes,
and full lips curved in a naughty smile,
now she sashays down a passage in my head,
humming a ditty and saying unequivocally,
‘Loosen up my dear. Live loud and well darling’
‘Cos life is too short and just a dream.’
My home Country Nigeria groans in pain under poor leadership. When evil men occupy spaces where they shouldn’t, strife and anarchy reign supreme. The sufferings and gnashing of teeth of Nigerian indigenes keeps multiplying by the day due to the recycling of avaricious, deeply corrupt, mean-spirited and small-minded old politicians. I pray for the revival of my Nation. I pray for a revolution and restoration.