Learning to Breathe Better

It hasn’t exactly been a year since I started learning to breathe. I started learning to breathe on the 12th of January, 2011 and I’ve been sharing m breathing techniques on my WordPress since then. I believe that you can never stop learning to breathe, you can only get better at it. So yes, I’m still learning. 2012 has been a pretty eventful year for me…somethings I’d like to forget quickly, somethings I’ll cherish all the days of my life. I met new friends and I lost some. I’ve been the insecure girl at work and I’ve been the picture of security. I’ve had emotional roller-coaster rides that have been anything but enjoyable. Been tossed here and there by emotional tides. Now that I look back on all of it, I can smile. I can smile because I tasted a wealth of emotions this year.

Spiritually, I’ve become wiser, maybe even stronger. And I find it amazing how God calls my kind to be “the light of the world” and “a city on a hill” when all I want to do is crawl back into the pit that He picked me from. The pit is comfortable. The pit is all I’ve known. The pit is was home. Time and time again, He comes for me, picks me up again and sets me on a hill for all to see. I’m not sure I love the attention all the time, I would rather go back down to the pit sometimes and feel sorry for myself. Often He tells me that my flaws, imperfections, insecurities, brokenness is exactly what He needs. If I was flawless, perfect, secure, sturdy…I’m afraid He would have no need of me. And I would have no need for Him. If there’s nothing I know about myself, I know that I am needy and I love to feel needed. I think of that and I get out of my pit willingly.

At home, I won’t say that everything has been dandy. That would be a lie. If there is a perfect home in this world, it definitely isn’t mine. I love my father with every fibre of my being. I know that he has made mistakes, I acknowledge the fact that he has many flaws and has made decisions he will regret all his life. I just want to make regretting easier for him. It’s the least that I could do. My siblings and I share a name and a home but I can’t say that we live for each other. We are so used to giving each other left over loving, I’m not sure what it would feel like to give them the main dish. What if they don’t even want the main dish? My stepmother on the other hand is an enigma to me. Sometimes, I think it’s possible for me to love her and other times, I wake up to the cold reality that it will be difficult and it will take flesh out of me. I’m pretty selfish. I don’t want anything taken out of me. I want it dropped in my lap. I lie to myself that I don’t have much of me to give to anybody and I know deep inside that there’s so much to give, so much to pour out and I’m afraid that is what keeps me up at night. I don’t know how to give and through 2012, I wasn’t ready to learn. I just wanted to breathe.

As for school, I’ve had moments when I just sit down and cry. I ask myself more often than I really want to: “What are you doing here?”

What are you doing here?!

I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing handling violins, pianos and a lazy soprano voice. I don’t know what I’m doing writing MUSON theory exams. I don’t know what I’m doing reading sheet music. I don’t know if I want to go to Royal College of Music when I finish university. So I’ll just focus on breathing for now. I’ll breathe deeply when the music notes become blurry and the tears threaten to spill, I’ll breathe confidently when my mouth opens and timid soprano pours. I’ll breathe, surely, when I bow my violin in front of an unfriendly looking panel. I’ll breathe.

As for relationships, I’ll take a break. I can’t make wise decisions when I keep hopping from one relationship to the other. I’ll  lose my breath and some of my sanity, some of myself. I’ll lose. I lose because I don’t know what to give and I don’t know what to keep. That way, I end up giving what I should keep and keeping what I should give. So I’ll just stop and breathe.

Breathe.

This is my last post on this blog. Still unsure if I should delete it or just leave it dormant. Don’t ask why, I don’t have the answer. I can tell you confidently though, that breathing is the best thing that could happen to us humans. Just breathe. Breathe deeply, thoughtfully, reverently. Breathe as you are.

And let your heart find rest in Him…

A Good Man

Mrs Carlton looked especially happy to see me after church. She hugged me tight when I told her I was pregnant. Sunmade and I had been married four years and she faithfully kept us in her prayers for a child.

In a way, I am grateful to her. All she did was pray but I will be indebted to her forever.

Amaka is in church today. Rare.

“Mama Bomboy” she teases.

I laugh and tell her to come home with me for lunch.

We talk all the way to my house. Before she finally asks.

“Wassup with Sunmade na? Why didn’t he come to church today?”

“He had to pick his sister from the airport.”

I chew my rice slowly, staring attentively at the television screen. Amaka has finished eating and is filing her nails.

“Which one of them?”

“Lolu.”

“Ehn ehn. Couldn’t any other person pick her? Shebi he has other siblings.”

“Same thing I asked him.”

She chuckles and turns to me.

“What did he say?”

“He said I should let him be.” A sinister smile creeps up my face. “I put salt in his tea.”

Amaka doubles over, laughing.

“You did what?” She nearly screams. “Orin you are mean!”

She laughs some more. I do too. It brings tears to my eyes.

“Peace be unto this house.” My mother’s voice is unmistakable and her greeting did not bring peace.

“Welcome Ma” Amaka says hastily.

My mother nods in her direction as she sits.

Amaka looks at me awkwardly. The message is not misinterpreted.

With her eyes, she tells me “I hope she didn’t hear a thing we said. I think its time for me to leave.”

“Let me see Amaka off, mum. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Take your time.” My mother says, “Take care of yourself Amaka.”

“I will Ma.” She hurries past me into the hallway. I walk limply behind her. When we get to the gate, she gives me a brief hug and says “I’ll see you during the week.”

“Okay.” I mumble.

I turn back towards the house and instantly feel heavy. I have always known my mother has cat feet. I just did not know her car had cat feet too. Apparently, she parked outside the gate and Jamal, who nods in my direction, had let her in.

My mother will make me feel like I poisoned my husband instead of the little punishment I gave him.

I trudge into the living room and find her waiting patiently for me. She glares thunderbolts at me.

“Sit, Orin. I want to talk to you.”

She motions to the space beside her on the three-seater. I obey.

“A married woman does not keep unmarried friends close, Orin.”

She takes my hands in hers and looks intently into my eyes.

“Don’t kill me because I did not kill my parents.” She chants her mantra.

“Oya tell me, who did you catch your husband cheating on you with that you put salt in his tea?”

I hesitate.

“Don’t pretend o! Because I heard everything you both said.”

“Nobody.” I reply.

“Did he beat you?”

“No. He did not.”

“Did he refuse to eat your meals?”

“No.”

“Does he still sleep in the same bed with you?”

“Yes.”

“So what is it exactly that you want that this man has refused to give you?”

This is a rhetorical question. I do not attempt to answer. Her eyes are weary and her lips are a firm, straight line.

She continues. “Iwo obinrin yii ma pa mi tori Olorun. Mi o pa iya mi, mii pa baba mi.”

She shakes my shoulders, gently.

“Sunmade has been kind to us and you know it. You always said you wanted a good man like your father. Now you have one. Be good to him! Don’t push him into other women’s arms.”

I sigh.

“Your husband is your crown, Orin. Treat him as such. Make him happy. Take care of his child.” She touches my belly.

I look down at my lap. Looking into her concerned eyes wear me out.

“What is your name?” She asks

“Orinnifeoluwa”

“What does it mean?”

“God’s love is a song.”

“Never forget it.”