CHAPTER 9

I had to start looking for a place to stay once I go back since I wasn't welcomed in my own home. My maternal grandmother lived 20 minutes away from us by car. So, I decided to live with her once I arrived. My mind was already made up about going back home. Nobody could talk me out of it. I had to put myself first. It was my life. If I allowed myself to break just so I could impress others, that's a grave sin. I didn't want to betray myself. 

I hadn't spoken to my family for a week. I avoided their calls. I didn't want to be brought down. The thought of me finally leaving was like a cool, fresh breeze. I had sent my mom a very long text explaining to her that I was coming back and that I was going to live with grandma. I also informed her of how their words broke my heart into a thousand pieces. They're my family. I couldn't understand why they refused to support me and my decision. It's not like it was easy for me to come to that conclusion. 

Later that week, I received a phone call from my dad. First, I was hesitant to answer. What if he had more harsh things to say? But then he texted me. 

Just answer, my dear. I just want us to talk.

Was that a trap? Or was it for real? Either way, I had to answer to find out. And so, I did.

"I'm sorry about what I said that day.", my dad began.

Well, that was a first. African parents never apologize first to their children. I had no words to say back to him.

"I understand how hard life is over there. I do. You've been very strong, my sweet girl. So, if you want to come back home, please do. We'll warmly welcome you. This is your home. You don't need to disturb your grandma.".

My dad lived in America back in 2003. He was an industry worker. Life was so hard, but he still fought and fought. It was until he suffered from Osteoporosis that he decided to pack his bags and come back home. The USA isn't a lukewarm country. It's either harsh or good, not in between. My dad and I had seen the harsh side of it. Only us could relate to it. 

…

I left the States in February 2021. It was a snowy evening. Our flight was delayed for a few hours because of it. But after minutes of prayers, the plane took off. I looked down at Chicago from the sky.

"I guess you weren't ready for me, America.", I said in my head, "But it's fine. I'm going back home. I did a great job holding myself together, and I'm so proud of myself.".

I want to say it's the worst chapter of my life, but also the best. It's through it that I got my eyes opened. I could see life more clearly. The universe forced growth on me because if it was my choice, I'd have preferred to stay that young and naive. 

Now I know about mental health. Nobody wants to be depressed. Nobody wants to shut herself from the world. Nobody wants to be stuck. Telling depressed people to turn it off or try harder isn't helpful. It's stupid to even think of saying that. Now I know. Moreover, I can relate. I've been there. I've gone through it. The lesson is learned. Time for another chapter.

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