Sweet Victoria... Will this pain ever go away?

The hardest hour, moment of harsh reality. Dear Sweet Victoria, I'm in pains, if you can, send me help. (Photo credit: My baby sister)

Since May 17^th, 2023, I haven’t been the same, and there’s no way in hell this would change anytime soon. It’s not for lack of effort; I am convinced within me that I am trying my best to snap out of this gloom, but it won’t just go away; it’s my biggest test yet.

Just so we’re clear, I am not writing about my mom today, not even tomorrow, and I sincerely don’t know when I’ll have the courage to do so, but this is about how I feel; it’s probably the only thing I haven’t tried, so here we go.

How do I feel? I feel naked, empty, and a little hopeless. I'm not sure I’m depressed; I’m certainly not suicidal, but the feeling is harrowing, and that’s me putting it mildly. Last night was tough; loneliness kind of made it worse, but for how long would I have to depend on someone’s presence? It’s unsustainable.

Echoes of Mom’s last voice note won’t leave my head, and I doubt I want them to. I have amazing people around me, checking up on me and trying to hold my hands. My teammates are doing everything they can to help, but it’s beyond me; this minute I’m lively, the next one I’m remembering the fact I’m an orphan... It’s tough, trust me.

There’s a lot to pick from each day. I understand how gross it sounds to feel hopeless, but that’s me putting it mildly; this brings some sense of gratitude, even though I still don’t know how to face God properly. I am wondering why He allowed this to happen to me, but like mom used to say, "it has happened to the best of people".

It’s also amazing that two people I expected a lot from found enough excuses to stay distant; I’m not entitled or whatnot, but sometimes it’s good to experience this sort of grief; it tells you things you wouldn’t ordinarily know. Again, I maintain that there are no hard feelings.

I still have loads of messages I’ve not responded to since May 17th, and while many would understand, some are nursing anger and planning to lash out at me when they can. I understand you and won’t teach you how to react, but when you face my kind of grief, I’ll wait to see how you handle it.

I am definitely not making sense; wouldn’t you be surprised if I did? I’m basically trying to put words to how I feel, but it’s really not coming. I’m proud of myself a little bit at how I was able to manage a presentation earlier today. I dreaded it because I know it’s easy for things to go south, but I’ll leave it at that.

I can’t possibly turn this into an appreciation post; I’d offend lots of people if I tried to because I'd definitely leave too many out. Last night was one of my hardest; I listened to mom’s last voice note again, and the night went really bleak.

It gave birth to a difficult morning. May your strength not be tested on your day of weakness. I pride myself on being a strong man. I've lived through situations you wouldn’t survive, but this one? It’s beyond me, and no matter how much I try, I am never going to be up to it.

If you’re reading this, send me some strength if you have some you’re not using. I know there are people who lost their parents earlier than I did, but were your parents everything like mine were? Did yours instill confidence in you to help you rise above stereotypes and discrimination?

I’d probably be on the concourse or bus parks begging for alms, but dad and mom ensured I never felt physically challenged for one day. I’m not falling for this temptation; I’m not writing about my mom. I had to be admitted to the hospital; it was expected, and I went on a staycation with Riquesans right from the Inland Hospital in Ogudu. I'm still here, in deep grief, E hard!

I have to stop here, drenched in my own tears, but it is what it is. There's no way in hell I’ll get used to not hearing from my mom. I would take her drama over this pain every day and three times on Sundays. This pain won’t go away; I need strength.