Her Story, XL

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers who has asked to stay Anonymous.

This is her story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

*sigh* I absolutely suck at writing, but I had to do this.

My childhood was a very fair one, we were not absolutely broke and we were not at the top either. Sometimes, we struggled, sometimes, we didn’t, I mean financially. My parents were not fighting but, my dad never really stayed with us, for work’s sake. Growing up, I never had serious prayer points. I guess my “most serious” prayer point was new clothes and shoes and stuff. I didn’t even see the need to pray about academic excellence. I still don’t see the need for that.

Okay, my story, I was raped at age 17. *sigh* I still can’t explain how fast I got over that, but honestly, my parents still don’t believe… don’t believe that I’m over it, not like I ever discussed it with them after the incident. It was in the summer of 2010 and it happened, when robbers attacked my house, I just got back from church. Apparently, I prayed before I was raped… prayed for God to have his way and avoid the act. I wouldn’t say he refused, or I didn’t have enough faith. I mean, you’re about to be raped… what sort of faith could even exist at such a time. But you know, God can’t be blamed, so I’ll still say my faith wasn’t enough.

For a while, I doubted if God really did exist… if Heaven is real, or if Hell is something one very stupid person came up with to scare her children. I honestly didn’t believe in any religion for a while.

I guess I would have been a “keep your virginity till your marriage” kind of person but, whatever… right now, I’m not a slut but I honestly don’t mind having sex. It bothers me not. But sadly, all the “boys” that claim to like me actually don’t… I mean, you have sex with them and then, they care less about you. I have not felt loved at all in my life. I don’t even believe my female friends like me. Sometimes, I think I’m a burden to everyone and so I just try to excuse myself from their businesses. Most times I look for an escape but, I have none. My escape for now is music because I don’t even know what I’m good at, what I love doing, I don’t know my talent, I don’t know myself.

My dad still does not stay with us… P.S my parents are not separated. I have an ewwwy relationship with my mum, and this is because I’m fucked up in every way. She does not have to do anything to annoy me… it hurts me to say that my own mother irritates/pisses me off most times. Please don’t misunderstand me. I really do love her but, that feeling is uncontrollable. I mean, i just find myself… Pssst, never mind! I try to take that feeling away most times but then, nothing happens.

I don’t even get myself, sorry this is more like nagging and shit… tolerate this “ME”. I have a lot in my head that I can’t comprehend by myself or even get out. I just go moody a times and I try to have that one man conversation that brings a bit of healing but nothing… my dear, nothing. I have no one to talk to because I can’t get this nothingness out of my head… so what is there to talk about. My friends complain when I go all quiet and moody and shit, but honestly, it can’t be helped *sigh* I don’t mean that I’m a very moody person, I mean… I have extreme mood issues. When I’m happy, it’s usually on the positive extreme, and when I’m moody…. negative extreme.

I probably just need a shrink. I mean, someone i don’t need to tell anything but can tell me what exactly is wrong with me, what I don’t know is wrong with me, what I need… blah blah blah.

I’m not smiling right now, so, this is beneath my straight face. 😐

• • •

Don’t just read, say a PRAYER. Go ahead. Encourage another. Pray.

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s ’Her Story, XLI’ by an Anonymous writer

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

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Her Story, XXXIII

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers, who has asked to stay Anonymous.

This is her story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

Hi, I can’t tell you my name, this isn’t even a real account for fear that it might be traced back, but I feel its time to start letting go of my stories so I can have complete peace. I’ve let go of so much hurt already but I feel sharing my story on your brilliant blog would liberate me. Baby steps to becoming free.

I’m a young 22-year-old girl, currently in my final year of university in Ghana, I’ve found love as absurd as it may seem and I live everyday to the fullest because although my past is filled with gloom and despair, my future is bright. I smile and smile knowing this. My story is long, I hope you won’t mind.

I was for a long time the only child of my parents, I don’t know what happened when they had me, but for as long as I could remember they have hated each other bitterly. The terrible fights, the beating up, the smashed glass. All I had for solace were the numerous house-helps who came and went. It all went pear-shaped for me when I started secondary school. My dad didn’t really care for me, he just provided money for my upkeep and that was it. My mum and I would talk but she seemed so distant. I was basically in the world alone. I just came back from school on the fateful day, I was in Jss2 then, I walked in a bit late (no one really cared what time I came home from school, so I would spend time with my teachers or go to my friends houses before going home) I heard them screaming at each other and I looked to see what it was this time, I saw my dad wielding a knife at my mum, in my horror I rushed to help my mum but was pushed by my dad that I fell and injured my head on a stool.

That was the height for my mum’s best-friend (who I thought was my mums sister). She had just recently lost her daughter who was about my age and I made the perfect replacement. She took me in and loved me like hers, I wanted my mum to come too but to my despair my mum stayed with my dad. I couldn’t be bothered anymore, I had found a new family, my aunty, her husband and their son who she had when she was younger. He was older than me and was in university. I thought things were perfect until one night he crept into my room which was just opposite his and had his way with me, he threatened me and said if I told his mum she won’t believe me and they would send me back to my parents. This scared the living day lights out of me and I just let him do what he wanted, anything at this point was better than going back to a house with no love, it was in this process I learnt that he wasn’t really my cousin. This went on and on anytime he was at home and I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t have friends because I just couldn’t trust anyone.

I started to feel I was the reason for my parents hating each other because they seemed fine after I moved out, my dad stopped paying my fees and my aunt and her husband took on that without complaint. My feelings were later confirmed when I heard my mum telling my aunt she was pregnant. I hated her and my dad and I became very vocal about my hatred, I would walk to my mum when she visited and tell her a lot of things, call her a bad mother then I would run back to my room and cry. I finally finished secondary school and wanted to get as far away from everyone as possible. I didn’t want to demand too much from the family that literally brought me up so I opted for Ghana, at least I would leave Nigeria.

Shortly after I left Nigeria I heard my dad died. As sad as this sounds I was happy but angry, I was angry that I didn’t kill him myself but I was happy that the bastard had gone, finally got what he deserved. I went for his burial and I was a stranger to my mum and her son (I never regarded him as my brother). They opened the coffin and it hit me so hard. I was a carbon copy of him and there he was lifeless just lying there and I wanted to just hug him and tell him I forgive him, but I hated him so much.

Three years later I got a text message from my mum that she was remarrying and I was just too angry, is this woman crazy? I told my aunt I didn’t want to come but she convinced me to come as her son was also marrying that period. The same son that had raped me numerously. I just wanted to die, I didn’t have any friends to confide in and didn’t have anyone to turn to so I decided to go. To my surprise my mum came to see me, knelt and was crying, asking me to forgive her, that she knows she has been such a terrible mother to me.

I had so much hate that I couldn’t bear more so I decided to. The weddings passed and I decided to forgive my ‘cousin’ as well. That was the beginning of my healing process. On my way back to Ghana I met my love, I started out so terribly to him but he remained and persevered and one day I broke down and told him everything. He showed me God. I never really gave myself to God cause He was never a part of me growing up but now He is so real to me, He gives me peace and He has opened my heart to wonders.

I have recently started making friends but I am not able to share any of my stories with them. One day though, I will be able to openly come and tell the world what I have gone through. I want people to know that no matter how bad you have it, God has a super plan for you He will always execute.

• • •

Don’t just read, say a prayer.

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s ’His Story, XXII’ by @OfficialWayde

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

Her Story, XXX

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers, who has asked to stay Anonymous.

This is her story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

You see…

Life is a beautiful mess. People will shit on you and YOU must pack it. How you put yourself together is what matters the most. There’s a Yoruba proverb that goes….

Eni to yagbe o kin ranti, sugbon, eni to ko, o’kin gbagbe
He who deposits feaces does not remember but he who packs, never forgets.

My story.

My father was a “big man” at the time I was born but he was not legally married to my mother. You would think she benefited at least a little from mothering a child for him but that didn’t happen. My mother worked hard for everything. Practically nothing was given to her on a platter of gold as should have been expected. It is safe to say I knew the hard life.

My mum would go to work early in the morning and leave us with our neighbor’s houseboy. She couldn’t exactly afford a nanny at the time so after school, I and my sister would go and stay over till she came back home. I think our neighbor had twin daughters. I don’t remember clearly.

All I remember is that at age 6, I was raped by this boy.

I knew something terrible had happened to me that would change my life forever, but nobody said anything. Nobody noticed anything strange with me and so I was quiet. Life continued.
Life soon got better for us all. My father started to acknowledge us and was now paying for our secondary school fees. We came over for holidays to see my dad. He lived in a very big house now.

Money sweet o.

He had house keepers and a young man who did the laundry too. Sometimes I wouldn’t feel like going back to Lagos. For what? Stay in a 3 bedroom flat? Although my mum was the owner of the house in Lagos, she had to rent out two of the “self-contain” under our own flat. That wasn’t much of a big house to me.

On one of our trips to Abuja, I realized the laundry man was getting too close to my sister. I warned her. Like he sensed I did, I had to take the blow for her. Only God knows if he hadn’t already ruined my sister…
At 12, I was abused as a child, for the second time.

Yet again, I didn’t speak. Speak to who? I lived like nothing happened. At some point I’d get really depressed. I knew something bad was really happening but I wouldn’t talk. I feared the stigmatization. If I dared to speak, people would address me as: “The girl who was raped.”

The next questions would be
Where was her mother?
Same mother who did everything to make life comfortable for us? I couldn’t live with the pain. I tormented the laundry man till he gave up his job. I was rude in every way… It was the least I could do.

I was rounding up with secondary school when I came across the word “Orgasm.” To the best of my knowledge, the dictionary didn’t do a good job explaining. All I knew was that a doctor would explain better to me. The school’s doctor was a very good friend of mine at the time. A handsome young man, who just got married, wife was pregnant, had a great job, very approachable, always willing to help, very nice man.
I asked him what orgasm meant and he said
Well, there’s the theory and practical” He started.
After the theory, you may not still understand but with the practical, it’s straightforward
Like a lamb led to slaughter, I put myself in harm’s way. I was only 15… going on 16.

Till tomorrow comes, my parents know nothing about this. I do not intend to speak up either, not because I am afraid but because the stigma it brings is just enough trauma. These incidents have psychologically changed my life in ways indescribable but still, I find solace in making others happy. Smiling every time I can like I have no worries but indeed, the pain beneath is beyond this world.

My life may not be perfect but I do believe my accidents have made me to this point. There is joy in making others happy even though I rarely ever get that back.
Hi! I’m yet to be 20 but I believe there’s something more in life for me. Oh look! I just graduated from the university too!

NEMS.

• • •

Don’t just read, say a prayer.

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s ’Her Story, XXXI’ by an Anonymous writer.

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

Beneath The Smile {Video}

Today’s #VideoWednesday was made possible by @Nkechieey

Enjoy.

Have a great Wednesday.

#VideoWednesday

Please Share.

P.S. Please, if you have any video you think should be shared to others and we can feature on our #VideoWednesday, please mail me at obafuntay@gmail.com

Thank you.

Her Story, XXI

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers who has asked to remain Anonymous.

This is her story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

Funto, I hope my story gets told, you’re my only option. Thank you.

It took me a while to finally decide to tell my own story, I was not sure if I could gather up the courage to, but finally I did.

It all started in April 1999, I was but a child barely 6 year old. As usual, I was a happy little girl who was loved by her parents and siblings. One faithful day, my parents went out with my siblings but because I was not felling fine, mum left me to the care of the housemaid and I remember mum telling me assuringly “I will be back soon dear…be strong” and with that they left. What happened next was one of the worst things in my life.

The laundry man then, comes around to iron the clothes. Besides my parents practically considered him family, the maid let him in and then she goes to her room unaware of the dangers of leaving a little child at the mercy of a grown man.
At first, he approached me pretendIng to want to play with me, I was but a little girl who just felt it was okay for him to play with me, just like my parents and siblings, but before I know what was happening, he starts to pull my clothes, I tried to scream but he gagged my mouth and raped me all this while, with the housemaid inside, asleep. Afterwards he tried to bribe me with some sweets saying I shouldn’t tell anyone.
I was scared that I ran and hid in my room.

Till now, I’d never told anyone, not even my parents. The memory, lingers fresh in my mind. I can barely even hold a relationship. I don’t know what to do.

Since this happened, I always thought that once, was going to be the only time but I was wrong.

The madness continued, whenever he got the chance to see me playing alone, he will always come unto me and he will threaten to kill me if I told anyone. I was just a child who believed that he could actually kill me and no one will know and for that reason I kept quiet and suffered the torture.

After what seemed like eternity, my parents relieved him of his duty because mum said he was becoming incompetent. At that point I felt relief and thought I was free but I wasn’t, the memory stuck with me all the way. Like that wasn’t enough, while at my aunt’s house, her driver also attempted to rape me.

I grew up to hate guys, except my brothers but I’m still working on that. I have improved on being friendly with guys too but I still keep my distance from them. Now, everyone believes me to be a friendly, caring and nice person that I have grown to be, but no one really understands what’s beneath my smile not even my parents or siblings.

Funto, thank you for listening… it feels good to finally share this and get it off my chest.

• • •

Don’t just read, say a prayer.
A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s  ’His Story, X’ by An Anonymous writer

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

Her Story, X

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers who has asked to stay Anonymous.

This is her story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

I will like to remain anonymous… The story I am about to tell you.. I have shared with very few.

My story might be scattered… I do hope you can understand.

Nothing I write here is fictional… Just the truth from my heart.

My parents got separated in my Jss1. I watched my dad cheat on my mom; beat my mum; and many other things. My mum left and things got worse for my dad. My dad would leave us at home to starve. No attention… Nothing.

School was my only escape, the people there were the only real thing to me. I finished from secondary school and got admitted to a private university. My first year in the university. I got raped by my best friend’s cousin. We had just finished exams and we went visiting.

… I blame myself

I learned to survive on my own from a tender age. I keep things to myself and deal with them the way I want. The only person I have depended on in my life was my boyfriend in school then. We broke up when we graduated. I guess I was so much of a burden to him.

Heartbreak.. I never want to experience again.

I’ve been in different relationships from then on.. Trying so hard to fill the void in my life. Void created by my family.. Yet I am still yet to succeed.

A lot of people will tell me to turn to God. Depend on Him. I just don’t know how to do that, because all my life I have depended on ME. I find it so hard to do that.

*Sigh*

I’m a sad girl.. I suffer from low self-esteem; I envy women that are doing well.

One day my dad told me “Because you are so slim when you get to your husband’s place you’ll be rejected because you look sick and no one wants a semi dead girl” … and many other awful things that I can’t get out of my head.

Everyone who follows me on twitter, see me as an exciting person… That’s just a mask.. A very good mask.

I need help..

I’m broken.. Sometimes I think I’m beyond repair.

But you’ll never know ’cause…

I smile a lot;

laugh a lot;

joke a lot;

no one knows…

So.. I guess this is me…behind my smile..

Behind my smile is a lost 28-year-old ‘girl’ who knows she needs to be found…

…but doesn’t know how, and when.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Friday’s  ’His Story, VI’ by @IamNiyiOkeowo

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)