Chidimma Writes

Storms, they say, only last for a night and fade away, but no one talks about the spoils they leave behind that sometimes stigmatize us forever. Trauma is insanely dangerous, and somehow I find it difficult to heal from it. I know my life is a book with so much hurt, so much that I cannot carry it any longer. Maybe I should run away to the desert, perhaps the beach or a waterfall, and connect again with nature, feel its stillness, and breathe in its freshness. We say, "I forgive you," easily, but our hearts have not consented yet. They say forgive even when an apology is not given, but I feel much worse than that. You do not want it, but somehow you wish the pain could disappear from your eyes. Maybe whoever caused it should be out for a while. I remember how easy it was to forgive even without any apology. I remember how she walked innocently. People walked over her until silence became her outfit. If she told her pain, know she was deeply hurt, and if not, know she had let ...

  The world is large, I know, and everyone in it has different characters, though with certain similarities. But despite these differences, I sometimes convince myself that most people who claim to be older are still children at heart. While growing up, I often heard a phrase I have used repeatedly in my previous blogs because my childhood, till now, has been filled with many lessons. My mother taught me how to respect people’s decisions, but life taught me how to set my own boundaries, although sometimes I still allow people to override them. The reason I am writing this is to enlighten many people who see saying “No” as a grave offence, as though they are entitled to your entire life. I was in the examination hall, and she sat three benches behind me. We were writing a course that involved formulas, and I had prepared well for the questions. She needed help, but there was no way I could risk my future to help her, so I politely said no. Little did I know that she kept it in mind....

THE UNTOLD TRAUMA OF BEING THE QUIET AFRICAN DAUGHTER  Plato, the Roman philosopher, once said, “Do not force children into paths they do not want to follow.” In my own interpretation, he was right. People are born differently, made differently, and ultimately created differently by our Maker. Because of this, our purposes can never be the same. Many of us, because of childhood upbringing, have been deeply traumatized to the point where we neglect ourselves completely. While growing up, some of us were taught that real children never complained, explained themselves, or spoke in self defense because that would be seen as disrespect. Saying “I am tired” was almost a crime, and saying “I cannot go” was even worse. Every African child was expected to always be available at the beck and call of others, especially the girl child. We were taught that marriage was the ultimate priority in a woman’s life and that if you did not learn how to kneel and serve your spouse, then you would becom...

  ALL OF US ARE PLAYERS Humans are insatiable. According to Adam Smith, our desires are endless. As humans, we are filled with a deep longing for many things, and when we lose self control, we become puppets to those desires. All Of Us Are Players is not just a random article. It is a reflection shaped by observation and thought, rooted in the realities of contemporary living. We all dislike being played. It could happen in relationships, in life, or even within our own minds through anxiety and premature excitement. When we speak of players, we often think of people who engage in games for fun, fitness, or income. However, the truth is that we are all players as long as we exist in this world. We act for our own benefit. Sometimes, our selfishness pushes us into decisions that involve deception. I have had conversations with different people about their views on relationships, and many of them point fingers at the same issues. Some say men are scumbags, while others describe women...

THE SILENT STRUGGLE OF AVOIDANT HEARTS Love, they say, is a beautiful thing. And according to Joel Osteen, having someone you love in your life makes you rich. I often wondered how love could make anyone rich. My mind never stopped questioning. In quiet moments, even during my noon naps, those words echoed endlessly. Then I looked at the world. Everything seemed painted in shades of hatred. And truly, the world feels poor. The people we love and stand for rarely live up to our expectations. Yet, we pretend. We smile through it, living under the quiet weight of mediocrity, poverty, and emotional relegation. Now, let’s talk about avoidant people. They crave love deeply. Saying “yes” comes easily to them, like a soft rhythm flowing from their lips. Yet, they detach just as easily. It’s not that they cannot love. It’s that their love fades, like yesterday dissolving into dusky hours. They make people fall for them. They appear patient, understanding, almost perfect. Their words are sweet, ...

  THE EMPATHETIC PERSON People are born differently and some are made differently. When circumstances hit you and you overcome them, your authenticity becomes your sustenance. Let us talk about empathetic people who feel the hurt of others, carry the weight of people’s problems like theirs, with their minds processing everything as though they were made for it. They notice the slightest change in conversations and have the habit of feeling deeply, sometimes to the point of tears. You could place them in moments of grief and they would not need to pretend, they would feel it fully. If you are that empathetic person, you are one of the strongest people the universe has created. Your ability to process your emotions, listen to others, and feel their pain as though it were yours is authentic. I am that empathetic person. I thought I was abnormal, and when my eyes betrayed me instead of staying dry during conflict, people called it emotional blackmail. I always thought something was wro...

  WHY DO I LIVE? When Osundare called time vengeful, I argued within my mind that he was being harsh. But life unfolds in many unpredictable ways. Dreams sometimes remain unfulfilled. Many “had I knowns” and “how I wish” fill the spaces in people’s lives, and gratitude comes only in brief glimpses of what feels like an expected end. Somehow, I ask myself if this expected end truly exists, because we bend our backs every day working hard for a cause we often create from other people’s stories, judgments, and perceptions, while those same people are still struggling with their own problems. When I was younger, I was told that if I studied hard, I would have something to enjoy in the future. No more sleepless nights and burning lamps. But as I grow older, life becomes even tougher in that same future. The poor struggle to eat, and the rich, who seem to have everything the poor man desires, still work tirelessly, leaving no space vacant. Is this what we call the expected end? An end th...