Life in the UK(3)

I think I blogged about fear in January. Something of that sort. Well, exams were fast approaching and somewhere along the line, I was convinced that I was sick and just couldn’t pinpoint what the issue was. Different symptoms and issues each day. About a few days to my first paper, I was so disturbed and couldn’t concentrate no longer. My chest hurt so badly. I couldn’t take it no more and headed to the GP’s. In my mind, I had thought of a lot of heart conditions and read up on many of them and started comparing the symptoms I read with what I was experiencing. Got to the GP’s and I was directed to A&E. The fear entered gear 5 right away. Did all sorts of tests which really didn’t freak me out till I was told to do ECG. At that point I couldn’t take it again. I was sure I had a heart condition and was gonna die. It was that serious. Nothing YB, my mum and my sisters said calmed me down. Did the tests and while waiting for the results, I remembered a sermon in church a couple of weeks before that and I suddenly felt at peace. Results came out negative and I headed home. Past 9. Had a paper for 10am the following day. Remember all these started some couple of weeks before exams so reading was somehow sha but truly I knew I didn’t read as I would have loved to especially for my first paper. I had all my notes prepared but just couldn’t read them. How my results came out and I passed all my courses; the first even very well, I don’t know. It was definitely God.

Well, 1st semester came and went quickly and we were still battling winter. February came and lectures started again. Fortunately unlike others, we (my classmates and I weren’t writing a dissertation) so we didn’t have the issue of seeing a supervisor and all. By February though I was already in March. My body was in February, my mind, spirit, soul, everything else was in March. I was going home. I couldn’t wait.

I had missed home, my parents, sisters and YB. Like I said in the first post, this was the first time I would be leaving home as such and boy was it tough? YB and I had only started courting in May and I shipped out to school in September. We had sorta prepared ourselves yeah that it was just a year but seriously it wasn’t easy. That preparation no work. It was way harder than I thought it would be. I survived by God’s grace. Also, remember I came with my mum. I lied to her the day she left that I had classes (Lord know she mustn’t see this). Couldn’t stand following her to the airport and crying as she left. Nah, I knew I was going to cry so there was no point going to embarrass myself at the airport. However, I cried in my room. Big girls don’t cry ba? This one me I cried o. I wasn’t going to see her for like 6 months. Like I couldn’t just wake up and say am going to see my mum? TEARS!!!!! Popsie too came at some point and I remember holding back tears when we got to the train station and he headed back to London. Plus I missed Christmas. I was the only one not home for Christmas. Christmas was tough. Really really tough. Everybody kept saying try and enjoy yourself se o gbo? It can’t be that bad. It would soon be over. And am thinking “ya all don’t understand”. “Do you know what they are doing at home”? “Do you know the parties they have been to”? To make matters worse, a cousin now started posting pictures of food and recounting what happened at the January 1 party my aunty usually had.

I can’t count how many times popsie called just to encourage me and tell me I would be home soon. So you understand why I was desperate to go back home. I just had to. Not sure I would have survived a full year without going back home. February went even faster. Forget that it is the shortest month. It was even shorter than normal. I think I had packed my bags by the end of the month sef. Mid March, I was home. For a month. And as you all know, something major happened then. No need for details here. Back mid April and took another two weeks to adjust. At some point I regretted going home because it was like I was starting the adjustment process all over and I had exams in less than a month. Well, I survived it. Whew. May (exams), June, July, August were blurry really. Asides a wedding, meeting people, presentations, essays and exams, I really didn’t do much. My mind was on August 24th. Last day of school. Like I said I didn’t write a dissertation. All I had was an exam on 24th and that was the end. Freedommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

That day came even faster than I thought. I remember dropping my pen after the exam and am thinking dang it, it is all over. Should I be happy or sad? It was bittersweet. Bitter because I won’t be seeing the beautiful (mostly wonderful; well 80% wonderful) people I was classmates with.  Bitter because it meant I didn’t have anything to do. No deadlines to meet, no essays to submit, no presentations to prepare for, no meetings to attend, no exams to prepare and read for. I was just going to wake up every morning with no plan whatsoever (plan as in work plan). Wow. Seriously. What was I going to do? Bitter because now I have to start looking for work. And find one asap. I am a pretty restless person who hates being idle. I hate being bored. And not having work to do bores the life out of me. Bitter because I was leaving a city I had come to love, asides the weather. Bitter because I would be leaving a church I fell in love with and don’t wanna leave. Bitter because it was just sad mehn. Sweet because finally, the stress was over, finally I had some days left before going home. HOME. FINALLY. HOME. Like seriously? Finally finally finally, MSc was over. School ti pari.

Ha! I can’t forget the guys I met here. No amount of am in a relationship could deter them. From the one who felt telling me he recently made some nice soup he is sure I would enjoy to the married one (this category of men, I can write a book about) who felt telling me all his marriage issues and asking me if I won’t mind dating a married man to the ones who asked me not the read meanings into being friends to the one who no matter what I said, would decide to ping me just to tell me he liked me (this one, I reported to the mutual family friend we had before he freed me). In fact, until I told one that the way he is chasing me is the way some other guy would chase his fiancée that was when he freed me. I heard ridiculous statements like “until there is a ring on it” and am like true, but when a guy or lady tells you “I am in a relationship”, I would think you would back off. Am not sure I would like another man (if I were a man) chasing my girlfriend. I def won’t and don’t appreciate girls who chase after men who are clearly taken, ring or no ring and def not my man. If someone tells you am in a relationship (whether you believe it or not, whether they are having issues or not, respect that fact). And apparently most guys don’t but they didn’t see anything wrong in chasing another man’s since there is no ring. Mtshcewwwwwwww. I was told I was being rigid and there was no harm in seeing other men. And people asking me “are you one of those girls who form I have a boyfriend in Nigeria to keep the male folk off your back?” Na so. I really don’t get what the world is becoming sha. I no do means I no do. Kini wahala (what is the issue)? Kapish. Shikena.

Coming here was an opportunity to see old friends. Some I haven’t seen in almost a decade. Repair relationships. And meet new people especially fellow bloggers. It is/was an opportunity also to see another side of life and be more open minded. Doesn’t stop me from being homophobic though I def was able to talk to a lot of them without issues. I can stand them, I just can’t stand their “orientation”. It also made me a wee bit more tolerant. Considering the fact that I had these loud and irritating flat mates who made it a point of duty to piss everybody off at least once a week. Bring friends over, make noise till about 3am the next day, smoke in the flat. How I didn’t kill one of them amazes me considering the fact that another flat mate apparently did consider killing two of them a few times.

Sadly, one thing coming here didn’t cure me of though is my inability to read in a library. Till date I can’t read in a library. I entered a library to read twice at ISI in six years, once at Babcock in four years and three times here at Manchester in a year. And I never spent more than 2 hours except maybe once of the times I went in to read here. Read? Nah. I can do everything else, browse, print ish, borrow books (most times that’s all I entered a library to do) but to read in one was serious long tin. I would rather just borrow and go to my room or anywhere else to do any reading. I think the fact that I find it hard concentrating in a library is a bad thing yeah? I mean people should be able to concentrate in libraries ba?

I think I better stop now. Whaow, past 3am. Better get my beauty sleep. I got a long day ahead; moving, a house party and a trip to make. This might be the last post on this topic. And for all you know, there might be more. But till then, cheers. Meanwhile I go to bed singing “beautiful one I love, beautiful one I adore, beautiful one, my soul must sing”.

Tada

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