Thought tide

Mourning the Loss of Possibility It was close to midnight on a Sunday. Usually, I'd be fast asleep, preparing my brain for the coming week. This Sunday, though, I was wide awake. Busy chatting away. He texted, "Observe yourself. See what needs adjusting and what needs to stay. You've been in fight-or-flight mode for too long, so letting go is hard for you." I replied, "Letting go? Of what exactly?" He responded, "Letting go of a leadership role you've been forced to take for so long. There can never be two alphas in a relationship. It will be chaos through and through." I stared at that message for a while before typing back. "I don't desire to be an alpha. I want someone who will take charge, but still be mindful of my feelings. Here is the thing though... My brain has been fighting this belief that most heterosexual men generally hate women." He replied, "You've summed it up perfectly. Your brain tells you men hate wome...

Monday morning. Counting every damn minute — not for a promotion or a miracle — just for this mathree to finally reach my stage. If you know, you know. That awkward sit-like-you’re-ready-to-jump position? Yeah, that one. Because with the way the seats are hanging by a thread and the fleas possibly hosting a conference under your thighs, you stay ready so you don't have to get ready.   The conductor? Red-eyed. Bruised lower lip. Smells like he's been wrestling his weekend. And yet, the audacity to demand fare like we’ll vanish through windows! Midway through, the driver hears there’s a police crackdown ahead. Man mumbles something in mother tongue. I don’t blame him. That mathree couldn’t survive a body inspection. We alight. A mess. Trying to get my change back from a half-drunk conductor feels like asking Pharaoh for a quick release from Egypt. The insults! I give up. Write it off. I choose peace. But wait. Didn’t I promise myself a good Monday? I remember yesterda...

Mental Health Awareness Month Reflection. Dear friend, I’m sorry I snapped at you that Saturday afternoon. You were just checking in. But I was struggling — with finances, with feeling stuck in my career, with carrying this quiet weight. And you? You were going through a divorce. You’d just survived a near-death illness that had you in ICU. I promised to be there for you. To check in more. To be a better friend. But I’ve barely picked up your calls. I want to call when I’m upbeat. When I sound like “me.” So I text. I choose WhatsApp, because you can’t hear the heaviness in my voice there. Dear friend, Remember when you borrowed me 5k? I told you, “Once you get it from someone, please share.” Truth is... I needed it too. But I didn’t want to say. My boss once asked what happened to that dream of becoming a counsellor. I told him, “I paused on that interest.” He asked why. I laughed and said, “I think I realized I need the counselling more than I could give.” We chuckled. But i...

A strong feeling of the world shrinking into silence. One moment I am sitting in a simple meeting — not even the scariest one I’ve ever had — and the next, my mind emptied. Completely. Not a thought, not a word. Just blank. Abit of nervousness but something deeper. Something old. Like a bully that has lived in my mind for years. The one that whispers, You’re not good enough. You should do better. You are slow. You are stuck I’ve worked in the financial field for years. And yet, I couldn’t find words to explain the simplest of things. I stumbled, I overtalked, I shrank and tried to cover up the mess with a flurry of nothings. It’s not the first time. The truth is, I feel stuck. Stuck in a cycle of hardwork, barely smart. Watching peers sail past me. Seeing others rise while I stay seated. And worse — carrying the shame of that stagnation, like a stain I can't scrub off. Countless opportunities search in the past. Rejections now a rhythm. On the few occasions I get the chance to spea...

PART 2:  Into the Theatre, Out with a Daughter. Don't scream. Don't shout. Just breathe. Walk a lot during pregnancy. Hemorrhoids? Don't dare constipate! Those nipples, first baby latch—you will call your mother! You know SIM 2 could give way? Jesus! Your hooha could tear—and girl, the sewing back. 😳 My headspace as I approached labor... Reality... Contractions, ever so intense, so close. Let me tell you, Maina—wueh! When they say teach your child the right path, and they will not deviate from it when they grow up ...they were right. The number of times I called God, Jesus, and all His angels. I recall one prenatal check-up—I was a bit body-conscious. My doctor, sensing this, casually told me, " Shyness will disappear at childbirth. " Look, the way I was pacing in the labor room, my  bottom on display🤭 (BTW, what is it with those open gowns at the back?) Mum whispering to Njeri at some point. No one warned me this pain goes to the brain. I had the...

Part 1:  A Journey Through the Unexpected. A huge swimming pool, a wide-flowing river, and at some point, an ocean. I was in all three — no floater, no attempt to stay on the surface, no panic, no sinking... yet I can’t swim. Those were the images from my recurring dreams, slightly over a decade ago.