DROP THAT BAGGAGE

Being in love and getting hurt puts one in a really vulnerable spot. Most of us have had our fair share. You cannot enjoy the bliss of a loving relationship if you move in with the dead weight/baggage of the previous relationship.

Forgive and forget they say.
Let it go they say.
Time heals all wounds they say. But they may never know how deep the wound from the injury was. They may never know how deep it got to you.

They may never know what you invested and how disappointed you were nor how heavy your heart is. How crushed you felt. How rejected you felt. How not good enough you felt. A combination of all these feelings and more made your heart stiff and cold. How could you ever open your heart again you think?

Despite this, the fear of being alone or giving up on love makes you jump into another relationship.  There you go! You have not healed so you carry along with you the previous hurt. How disastrous.

On the other hand, some might need to heal before stepping into another relationship while others can only heal with the tender loving care of another lover who must be seen to outdo the ex. Belonging to the first category makes the new relationship a burden, a cross to bear.

It is filled with upsetting sad moments once in a while spiced with happiness and fun. Why so? He or she might be doing all within his/her power to make you happy, to show they care, but you always end up comparing them with an ex.

You overlook the numerous acts of kindness and magnify the little flaws. Not really because you do not love or appreciate them, but because you need to transfer the aggression from the past hurt. You feel because your ex hurt you, every other person out there is equally skimming and trying to take advantage of you.

Going into a new relationship without taking the time to heal ourselves of the hurt in our heart make us to an extent impossible or difficult to love. The innocent partner may be doing all in his or her power to make you happy oblivious of the fact that there is a scale by which you are measuring his actions and inactions. Weighing it with that of an ex.  This makes you pick offense at very minor mishappenings. I cannot promise the outcome will be a great one.

We are not super humans. We are emotional beings with the possibilities of getting hurt in our quest for love and companionship.  When this happens, we pass through several healing processes. Some might take long while others heal faster. If there is someone out there trying to fill that gap in your life, trying to show you they care, give them that chance. Do not make it difficult for them. Do not hold on to the past as it will inhibit your happiness. Let bygone be bygone. Move on. There are better things ahead.

If you must give love another chance, let go of the baggage. I assure you there is so much bliss waiting for you. Give it a chance.

I hope you have a wonderful new week. Stay happy and cute.

@PENNITT BY GLORIA EDEM

MY FIRST FLIGHT: A FUNKY MEMORY

          As a young girl I had always looked forward to when I would board my first flight, when I would finally sit back with my belt strapped on and my eyes shut taking in the full glory of the moment. My youthful and adventurous mind cared nothing about the several stories that filtered through news channels both local and international about flight horrors being encountered occasionally nor the plane crashes here and there. Even the disappearance of the Malaysian Boeing 370 into the supposed Bermuda triangle or the Dana crash didn’t in the least from/way deter my zest to using air transport.

          I visited Lagos from Calabar on a one week holiday although I arrived there via road transportation. I expected my first time on air transport to be a well-planned one with probably my village people coming to see me off amidst the singing and dancing from several cultural troupes. The ekpe of Calabar was to grace the occasion with ‘abiokpo’ pulling some little stunts here and there. Yes it was supposed to be a big and colourful occasion.

          The reverse was the case on that faithful day early last year. I got a call from dad that morning saying my attention was needed as a matter of life and death in Uyo. It was of utmost importance to me and my career that I arrived Uyo that day on or before 3pm.

          I was torn in-between thoughts of how to get myself home as Pops had no idea I just arrived Lagos on one of my numerous shenanigans/adventures.  Bingo! I had no other option but fly if I must beat the time limit I was given. I got across a friend who helped me book my flight online while I prepared and packed my luggage. Off I went to the airport.

          On arrival at the airport, I showed my pin, followed through the procedures, got a flight ticket and joined the queue looking all excited with my Edet-goes-to-Calabar box strapped firmly to my right hand. I had no idea my little sized box was classified as “hand luggage”. Silly petty ignorance. I turned the poor thing in alongside the huge boxes of fellow travellers to be tagged and loaded in the cart by the baggage handler. As I finished with booking procedures, I noticed and greeted a lovely elderly and glam-looking couple and they responded warmly.

P.S. this is a survival tactics I’ve learnt over the years. When in a strange land, I look around and attach myself to the nicest and coolest looking folks so I don’t get announced on NTA Obot Akara branch.

          The couple were so nice and took/treated me like a daughter. We got talking and I realised they just flew in from a vacation in New York. I helped the man with a little luggage he carried as we made our way up the escalator. Uhmm! That was my first time using that and I almost fell on my butt when I stepped on it as my feet were not properly placed on the segmented stairs. My flight mum giggled in supressed laughter as I struggled to regain my balance. I wore a straight face as though nothing happened. Those who know me know that “look.”

          At the waiting lounge, the voice of the white lady dolling out flight announcements sounded like hagithfubttwrjdbjrehjhhcxdhjhdhdsheierewrhhghgt to me. Nkoppo anything!

          We still had hours to burn until our flight time so my couple friends took me up for breakfast (steaming hot pap and akara) and a little window shopping. As madam was slightly distracted, the devil struck in a sexy tuxedo. ‘Sirdam’ clandestinely asked that I input my cell phone numbers into his phone so he could reach out to me afterwards. I was in awe as my jaw dropped in astonishment. I declined with my face coloured out of embarrassment while strolling away.

          Our time to board had come and we joined the shuttle buses that drove us to the plane. I located my seat and realised I was seated in-between  an old Yoruba mummy who didn’t understand English and an American actor Joseph Mawle who starred as Richard in Chimamanda’s ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’, Game of Thrones, etc. My ego-check did not allow me to ‘fams’ him. Lol. He helped fasten my belt and yea I was grateful “because the way I fiddled with the thing ehn.”

          We were offered some cheap snacks and coffee with ‘happy hour’ juice of which I said no to. As we took off, I felt my heart sank, I was nauseous and almost grabbed unto my seat for support irrespective of the tightly fastened belt. I felt normal after a few minutes and relaxed into the wonderful experience. We arrived Uyo in about 45 minutes and I embarrassingly waited for my hand luggage to slide down. My flight mummy asked, ‘is that all?’ I blushed and said ‘yes’ laughing out loud as I realised my folly (some of you should understand this sarcasm).

Their driver who was already awaiting them collected us and I enjoyed another free ride to my destination. We bade farewell as I alighted the car gratefully appreciating them for their help.

@PENNITT BY GLORIA EDEM.

A POETIC NARRATIVE: AS I JOURNEY THROUGH THE YESTERYEARS

Some days run fast like a rabbit.
Some days crawl along like a tortoise.
Time they say is only a concept.
Where did time go?

Life gets complicated by the day.
Wars, tribulations, fighting, killings;
Bombings, infant mortality, inflation, heartbreaks, disappointments, failure;
Raised cost of living, thuggery, hunger, looting, name them.

Does it get better in time? Where did time go?
Take me back to the yesteryears.

The years I screamed in innocent lo piercing laughter,
The years I jumped and clapped in ecstatic delight,
The years we ran in circles, hands intertwined,
Buttocks bared, rear cheeks peeping in panty holes,
Shooting guns made of papaya branches,
Yesteryears of no worries, running along with jeeps made
only of abandoned car tires and bicycle wheels.
Excuse me Sage, where did time go?


He said; 'variety is the spice of life',
'Your honour, you mean a little happiness occasionally spiced with sadness?'
What's life when time flies?
How then do memories stay?
When sanity has run wild,
Pat me on the back in case I'm still asleep

A life where hopes and Dreams are drums of war,
Pains and loss is our duvet of peace
Take us back in time Let's tell a tale;
Of hope, love, care, smiles, laughter, plenty;
Of pleasant memories, helping hands, support,
and again hope, all we need to sail through this wilderness.

Yesteryears of numb and sanity
Time where young blood cared less of looks but future
A tale told in manifold patches
As our children then knew nothing but greetings,
The world is far beyond repairs,
Kudos and cheers to civilization.

Better days are all I dream of as I lay back,
relapsed on my rocking chair, swinging to and fro,
withdrawing into the inner casement of my mind
as the Sun gently carresses my velvety skin.
'Hey sweet lady, a glass of cranberry juice would be just perfect.'
'Oui Mademoiselle' responds the sweet lady.

Hope and love; the duo keep me going.
Can we pause a little and reinvent our world?
Indeed how time flies.

@PENNITT