Her Story, XXXIX

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 his story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

March 31st, 2011
I was in a class, my phone rang, I checked th caller I.D and it was my dad. I ducked under the table (as a boss) to take d call…

Me: Hello Daddy, how are you? 😀
Dad: Your friend is DEAD!
Me: huh???????
Dad: Yes, Imoks just died.

I was literally speechless, my hands went numb, my whole body seemed to shut down. Next thing I remember was tears freely running down my face and everyone in class asking me what the problem was.

Let me make things clear, Imoks was just a friend/family friend/church member. He was really involved in church work, my guy slept, breathed and spoke the word of God. He exuded some sort of aura that only comes from constant communication with God. The same goes for his mom who’s a minister of God. Imoks died as a result of his crisis (Sickle cell anaemia).

Let me explain: I’ve always been a happy child, always laughing, very cheerful, and intelligent and a deep thinker. As a little child, I could ‘see’ things, whenever something was going to happen in my family, I would be the first to foresee it n SHARPLY inform my mum so she can pray about it. well that ability has disappeared though :(. First of four (4) children and I’ve e got just one sister. While growing up, we weren’t so rich, but we were well taken care of. My parents have always shown us more than enough love and done everything possible to provide for us.

My baby sister is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. She can be troublesome and mischievous (attributes I possess as well), still one just can’t help but love her. Unfortunately she was always quite sickly. She’s not ‘SS’ oh. Sometimes she would be admitted in the hospital for days and the hospital bills cost a lot, the emotional and physiological strain it was having on my parents couldn’t be over-emphasised. Because I’ve always been too mature for my age, I could see it all.

January 4th 2009,
we were getting ready for 1st sunday thanksgiving service and my baby sister had done something to irk me (as usual), I was already planning how to teach her a lesson (as I always say), my parents have never condoned me beating my younger ones sha, but all the same I still planned to beat her. I was running after her in the sitting room, she was laughing and screaming. Next thing I heard was my dad’s voice calling my name. In my head I am like ‘Daddy loves my sister more than me, he’s obviously coming to her rescue’. Well I went to his summons, I marched into his room fuming. As I entered the room, I saw d LOOK on my parents face, look of pain, suffering, my parents were both in tears, I couldn’t understand what they were crying for.

Then my mum said ‘Your sister is HIV positive’ *echos*

My head still spins everytime I remember those words.

I cried!!!
I still cry!!!
I cry cause my baby sister has done nothing to deserve such, I cry cause of the plenty drugs she has to keep taking, I cry cause of the pain it causes my parents, I cry cause I am scared for her future…
I just cryyyyyy… and I am crying as I write this 🙂

I don’t need no pity, neither does my baby sister. My parents have pulled themselves together and they stay fighting it together. It has made them hold steadfast to God and His word and as for me, I don’t know where I stand.

A part of me still believes ‘It is well’ and another part just can’t understand ‘WHY?!’
I mean my baby sister was barely 10 when it was discovered that she had HIV. Isn’t she too young to be made to suffer?

So when I received the call that Imoks was dead, I wept both for him, and for my family, I don’t want to receive another call saying that my sister is dead. Noooooo!…..Imoks had faith, he firmly believed in God and still he died of Sickle cell anaemia. I am not doubting God but its hard for me not to.

Well to God be the Glory, my sister is hale and hearty except for occasional bouts of sickness. My 2 brothers don’t know what’s going on, even my sister doesn’t know, all she knows is she takes her medication (my parents told her they are vitamins 🙂 ). I thank God for the life of my parents, they keep a smiling face but beneath their smile…

As for me, I school abroad and everytime I get a call from my parents, I dread them telling me something bad has happened. People find it extremely easy to open up to me and tell me personal things, they all think I have it easy. One guy told me recently that I’ve always had it easy. I just smiled. Because only I know how heavy my heart is…

Beneath my smile is a 19yr old, who is seeking answers..
Who doesn’t want to be told that his baby sister is dead or anything like that.

Enough of my story… Thanks to @ObaFuntAy for this ‘Beneath the Smile’ project. Until now, I’ve NEVER told anyone what exactly is in my heart. I can’t even explain how much liver I had to chop  and ‘ciking’ I had to do to myself before I could write this and all I ask for are your PRAYERS.

God bless you all 🙂

• • •

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, XXXIX’ 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, VIII by @SkuSskus

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 true story was sent in by one of our readers @SkuSskus

This is her story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

Hi.

My name is Mojisola

This is my story and I hope someone finds a lifeline in this:

I feel very uncomfortable, maybe I should go to bed.

I’m going to bed” …  “Make sure you lock the windows” mom says as she leaves the sitting room for her bedroom.

I adjust on my favorite sofa in the house.  I feel the pains in my bones, my lower back hurts. “Relax” I tell myself. I drag myself to my room, locking the windows as mommy instructed.

My favorite followers are online, I try to tweet away this familiar pain. This is one of the several I’ve experienced. The least pain, infact. I never get notifications but I abide by all the rules: “Never expose yourself to cold or heat, drink lots of water, use your routine drugs…” … The list is endless.

I deserve to live a normal life, I deserve not to live by any set of rules, just like any other person. I deserve live without the extreme caution. We all will die someday anyway so sometimes I throw caution to the wind and it’s no boomerang. Whenever I become cautious, things go wrong.

I’m having a crisis. My blood cells are clogged up. I feel pain all over, words can’t describe the pain my tiny body is going through now. PAIN? That’s what I endure because I am a sickle-cell patient. PAIN. I’m used to it already so I bear it. It’s my cross and I have carried it for 24 years.

It’s almost an hour since this started. I hate to do this but I pick up my phone to call my mum, I just need her beside me, now. Maybe I’ll feel better. I can’t feel my fingers, “You do not have sufficient credit to make this call” my network provider tells me . I hurt badly. I need her beside me. I need to tap out of my superwoman’s strength. I can’t move.

“If you have credit, please call 080xxxxxxxx. Tell her you’re my friend and that she should come to my room. I’m in so much pain” I tweet. I shouldn’t have but I did it anyway. I need my superwoman!

“You’ll die young, your parents are going to sign your death certificate” Kunle’s voice rings in my head. Kunle said that to me in secondary school. Maybe now is that time.

I open my eyes, I’m in the hospital. Mum tells me that’s the 5th drip. She holds my hand tenderly and smiles. “You’re a strong young woman and I’m proud of you” she says.

I smile back at her, but deep down lies the pain, fear and uncertainty of my next bout of pain.

I hide it all, beneath my smile.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s  ’His Story, V’ 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)