Month: November 2011

Ènìyàn L’aso Mi

Right now I am smiling and dancing; excited partly because I just wrote a piece and writing for pleasure always makes me high, and partly for no reason.

I wasn’t like that this morning. No. This morning I fell apart in a really unpretty way, for almost no reason.

I woke up and the BIS monthly I paid for 4 days ago was suddenly no longer active, thanks to Airtel. I called customer care and when she told me it would take 24 hours to fix, I started crying and shouting at the rep, and apologising to her for shouting at her but not stopping. She was nice, trying to calm me down and apologising to me. I think she realised there was something wrong with me.

After I dropped the phone, I lay on my bed and cried, shoulder wracking sobs, for about 30 minutes.

I am the first to admit that there is something wrong with me but it took me a while, and a psychologist, to admit that I am Bipolar. My responses to situations are not always ‘normal’, like the tears this morning. I had been having an ‘episode’ for the past four days, not that anyone looking at me would know.

This isn’t a post about my problems though; it is one about the people in my life. Ènìyàn l’aso mi, I don’t know how to translate that to convey what I really mean but loosely, it means “people are my clothing/covering”. I am blessed with wonderful people in my life. People who, when I am in my weird zones, don’t judge me, or tell me not to feel, or cry, or scream, but instead talk, hug, or just listen through it.

This morning, I called one of them to talk me through it and even though I know he will later tease me endlessly for it, at that point instead of telling me to grow up or snap out of it, he listened, made the right noises and talked me through it. That was all I needed… well, and my chocolate and strawberry yoghurt fix.

He has been on the receiving end of some of my hypomanic and depression episodes but still he is there, even though the last time I asked him if he thinks I am crazy, he said he doesn’t know (which I know is code for “crazy don’t even begin to describe you, woman!”).

Three wonderful women in my life have constantly done, and do, this for me in the past couple of years; Tolu, Tayo, Lati, I could never thank you guys enough for keeping me sane, happy, loved. I remember when Tolu moved away from Lagos, I sat on my bed in Kano and cried for three hours because I felt like my constants were all falling apart in my brief absence from Lagos. Tres unpretty, I tell you. The gods made these women specially for me.

There are those who see a facebook, BBM, Gtalk status or tweet of mine and immediately know I am in a bad place, and call and even though I always say it is just random depression (which it mostly is), they still call the next time. Thank you guys.

Indeed, Ènìyàn L’aso Mi.

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