who am I really ?
"I am sorry to hear that." I said slowly.
"My parents fought all the time," he continued, a soft smile on his face. "Eventually when she could no longer endure the beatings my mother left without a goodbye when I was 10. I have two older siblings. While they reacted to the problems differently, I found I was more sensitive and emotional. It was hard to live with. I grew up bitter at my parents, myself, God and life. I would think, if not for this incidents, I would have turned out better. For a long time, I battled with a negative image of myself. I was a victim of sexual abuse, the child of divorced parents and soon an active follower of all the vices you could think of. It was hard to see myself as anything more than that. But there was light at the end of the tunnel. So, what's your story?".
"Something similar," I said plainly.
"Why are you so uncomfortable in your skin?"
"I am comfortable. What makes you think I am not?" I blurted out before I could think it through.
"I could make a list. You walk with a slouch, you can't hold my gaze and when you do, it feels like you are staring at my nose." He put up his hand to hold his nose, his face wrinkled like he was confused. I thought it was a funny sight and chuckled a bit. "You are constantly shifting on your seat. You try to hide at church, you avoid social interactions-"
"I think I get the picture," I said cutting him off. I was annoyed at the confrontation.
"So, what has made you-you?" He said both his hands pointing at me. My phone rang. I looked at him and he gave a slight nod. I struggled with my bag until I found my phone. It was my Mum.
"Mum, can I call you back?" I glanced at Tolu and he was watching me. "No, in about two hours time...only one. Okay, call you afterwards. Bye."
“What did you mean by surviving?” Tolu was not letting me off easily.
“aren’t we all just surviving?” I asked in return.
“It depends on the context. Do you always find it this difficult to be vulnerable with people?" He said, stretching.
“I am sorry I come off as that”.
“No need to apologize." He yawned again.
I took a breath that sounded really loud in my ears; I wondered if Tolu heard me. “For as long as I can remember I have been prone to this depressive cycle I don’t understand." I heard myself say.
Tolu looked up at me. I could imagine that line made his day because he leaned forward on his elbows, one hand under his chin with a big smile plastered on his face. “Tell me about it."
“well..." I trailed off in search of words. "Some days I wake up sad for no reason. Some days I can’t get over what has happened in the past. It keeps intruding into my present thoughts and ruining my day. Other days I am just really tired of living, sometimes without reasons. And some days it is because of a mistake my head won’t let go. It rewinds until I really hate myself. Or I said something to someone or I was unable to fully express myself and the person goes off with the wrong impression, I can bank on my head to worry about it until I wish I could stop living. Generally, I hate living.”
I looked up at Tolu briefly, he looked like he was hanging to every word I said. He sighed in some places to encourage me and sometimes he’d sit upright before taking his resting position on the table again. “I also dislike interacting with people, not because I hate people but because it feels like a task. The need to say the right thing, wear the right emotion just so you are not misunderstood. All that is tiring.” I paused a bit. I half expected him to defend humanity and he did.
“Don’t you think you take social interaction too seriously. Like something you have to get good grades at. No one is scoring us. And maybe you are being way too self conscious.”
“Maybe”.
“Do you want to talk about the thoughts?” I thought he might ask. I had decided not to tell him but now that he asked, I found myself telling it all.
“When I was a child, I was sexually abused by someone my family trusted. Although I was a child, I still blame myself for that incident. The images won’t leave me. I feel dirty and disgusted at myself each time. When I make mistakes, it is difficult to forgive myself and move on. I feel sad about it when the images come to me. I pray to God but I feel like I need to punish myself for it until I feel better about it.”
“Do you think your parents love you?” Tolu asked out of the blues. I did not answer his question but my shoulders drooped and I suddenly realized I had been sitting upright all along. I rested my back on the chair and thought about his question. “I find that people who feel rejected find it difficult to deal with their mistakes. Or they have parents that are strict and,” he said stretching the last word, “you are in a constant struggle to please them.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay."
Tolu leaned back on his chair. His fore head was wrinkled with different lines. He appeared deep in thought. I simply watched him, sometimes using my eyes to trace the length of the table.
“If any man be in Christ he is a new creation, old things are passed away and all things have become new. What does this scripture mean to you?”
Now I felt like he was judging me. This was the most disappointing part of the discussion. Of course I knew I became a new creation at my salvation but this is the way I am. “You don’t get it. This is why I never bother explaining myself to people. This is me. Depressive. An over-thinker. That’s just the way I am." I said with an edge in my voice.
“Okay.”
There was a mild pause before he spoke again. “I am Tolu. I am wonderfully made. I am at peace with God and myself. I love who I am and who I am becoming. When I look in the mirror I love what I see. I am confident. I make mistakes and move on. I live a guilt free life. The Word is my image. And you,” he said, pointing one open palm towards me while the other lay across his chest. “Who are you?” I looked from his palm to his face and away. Who am I?
To be continued 💜💜
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