Unlearning
The very first time my dad spanked me, it was a little tap on my back but I cried till the next morning not because It was painful but because I wasn’t used to him beating me, he didn’t even used to yell at me. My mum on the other hand spanked me or yelled every other day but I would shrug it off and move on because I was used to it already. I wasn’t a stubborn child, very far from it. I won “best behaved girl” almost every year at prize giving day but I was a child and children are supposed to err every now and then. I learnt quickly that I hated to be in the wrong, I didn’t like being yelled out so I tried my best to always do what I needed to do, I practiced carrying myself gracefully, with respect. So much that even now people know they have to talk to me nice and calm even when I haven’t said a word. ( I should attach a picture of my brooding face, it works like magic😂😂)
When I was about 8 years old, I followed my neighbor to collect indomie wrapper for submit and win promo, we walked all the way from Ojota to a refuse dump under the bridge in Maryland following the short cut in new garage. I almost drowned in the swamp that day, I was returned home dirty and smelly without my slippers ( they drowned when I was rescued) and my mum beat the hell out of me. I saw heaven that day😂😂 My mum promised me that she would make sure my dad gives me round two of the beating when he returned from work but he didn’t beat me. He ignored me for a few days and I lived with that anxiety because I didn’t know what he would do. When he eventually did, he pulled me aside and spoke to me about making choices and how actions came with consequences. He made me understand that he worked so hard for us because the best things in life don’t come free. As he spoke, I relived the moment when I wasn’t sure I would come out of that swamp alive and I started to cry. I wailed and wept. He didn’t beat me but I decided at that moment that I never wanted to disappoint him.
Get Piece of mind’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
By the time I was 15, I was already an active worker in church. My whole life and social existence was church. When I eventually got into Uni at 19, I decided I wanted to be free. I wanted to shed the church girl image not because I hated it or because my parents didn’t allow me freedom while I was at home. I just wanted to explore the opportunity to do whatever I wanted without having to answer to anyone. I decided I would only go to church once in a while, I didn’t even pack any skirts (Now this is a big deal because I grew up in a church where wearing trouser was called a sin). I spent first semester doing just that, moving with people that weren’t my type, going to places that weren’t my scene. The things I did were not exactly bad but I got tired of trying to make a stupid point to myself, it was too much of an effort pretending to be what I wasn’t, so I did a 360. I became authentic and unapologetically so.
I remember coming home for first semester break in my first year. It was my birthday and I had friends over. Later that evening my dad was drinking whisky and I got a glass and poured some for myself. He opened his mouth to admonish me but I saw the moment it dawned on him that I was an adult, he shook his head and said “Don’t let your mummy catch the two of us o” and we both laughed. Sure enough my mum came and changed it for us, My dad especially for influencing and enabling me. I’d just turned 19, so I definitely wasn’t a child. My dad looked at her and asked “Would you rather she goes out to drink? Don’t you think it’s good that she’s comfortable enough to do it in front of us?” She relaxed immediately and called me “Fake woman of God”😂😂 I’d never given my parent any reason to worry about me, but in that moment I knew they trusted me.
The point of this entire gist? As unrelated as this events seem, I’ve just shared snippets of moments in my life that changed and shaped my perspective of who I am and who I want to see when I look in the mirror. I’ve made some bad choices and really good choices( more good than bad if I’m to be honest) All the times I’ve made good choices, it’s never been because I hear my mother’s voice in my head and she does yell the most🌚 it’s never been because I suddenly remember all the good home training, that is now a consciousness I can no longer part with. It’s always been the knowledge that I alone would live with my own choices. I would have to deal with the consequences of my actions( and me I can’t deal😩😩) I’ve enjoyed solid parenting all my life. My parents struck an almost perfect balance as you can already tell and by all indication my siblings and I turned out okay but there’s still so much unlearning to do, I still have to accept that raising children doesn’t mean you have to clone their personality to replicate your own. I still have to consciously tell myself that it’s not necessary to speak at the top of my voice when a child is seemingly not listening.
The real point of this gist? We are all a work in progress, make effort to unlearn toxic traits that were normalized where you grew up. It worked and you turned out okay doesn’t mean that is the best pattern to raise your own children. There’s no handbook to getting it right. Honestly? There’s no hand book to getting life right. As much as you learn, don’t stop unlearning.
