What going mad really looks like
I was bedridden a lot of times this year, and was also rushed to hospitals.
At first, I pushed it; still showing up everyday, that is.🦾
Then I went mad. 🙂 This one no be skit, I actually went crazy.
“I am not okay,” I’d tell people around me, everyday, after doing something weird. They’d look at me, lay hands on me, talk sense into me, then I take my drugs and sleep — if I can.
But I stopped living. I stopped reading books, I stopped growing.
I stopped writing. Let me say that again. I stopped writing.
I have had a surgery done before, I was in pains, but I picked up my phone and created content on “how to make the most of your weekend.”
Omo, where did Oyinlade go? 🤷🏾♀
I even lost the light in my eyes.
But mummy trained me not to show the world what only needs to be addressed at home, so I would look pretty when going out (like in that picture.)
As I write this, I still question myself — Do I want to share this part of my life with the world?
Really, this is private. But then this morning after my prayers, I sat down and tried to write and couldn’t think of anything.
You see, writing is a part of me, and it’s part of the things I lost this year. I teach people to be productive, I stopped, because I wasn’t even productive again.
I am a machine learning developer (moving towards machine learning engineering), only kept up with work because my boss is one of the most awesome people to exist, and God forbid I disappoint such a man.
Guys, I really have to write! I have to get me back, taking it by force!
So, until I know how to write like I used to, until I get my rhythm again, until I pick up my phone to create, and not enter panic mode, I’d share what I can share.
It’s for me; I want me.
