🤫 Confess🏥 Health
I Was 26 and Planning My Own Funeral. My Family Still Thinks I Was Just Tired.
C
Cunning Fox from Ibadan
3 months ago
This was back in 2021, I was 26 and working as a cashier at a filling station in Kano. On the outside, I was the quiet one who always smiled and greeted everyone. Inside, I had already written letters to my mother and younger sister, telling them I loved them. I had even picked the spot where I wanted to be buried. Not because I was sick, but because my head was just not there anymore. I used to stand behind that counter and think, if I just walk into the road now, it will all be over. No more rent problems, no more 'when are you getting married' calls from my aunties, no more feeling like a failure because my mates were buying cars while I was counting someone else's naira. I never told anybody. In our family, if you say you are sad, they will tell you to pray more. If you say you want to die, they will say you are possessed. One day, I was so low that I actually went to the pharmacy and bought a bottle of painkillers. I sat in my room that night, holding the bottle, and I just started crying. Not because I was scared, but because I was tired. Then my phone rang. It was my younger sister, just calling to tell me about her day. That small call broke something in me. I poured the tablets into the toilet and flushed them. I am still here, obviously. I did not tell anyone about that night until now. Some days are still hard, but I started taking walks, I joined a small church group, and I told one friend. She did not laugh. She just listened. If you are reading this and you are holding a bottle or a blade, please, just wait. Call one person. Even if they do not understand, just let them hear your voice. The pain is real, but it is not the end of your story.
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