And for the Mothers!

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay, honey, Mommy's here."

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purses.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars.

And that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and meant it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who never stops wondering if they´re doing it right, always wondering what they could do better.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shootings.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their children who just came home from school safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home?

Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation... And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without, struggling to make ends meet.

For all the mothers at heart who are still yearning for a child of their own..
And for all the women who´ve loved kids of others as if they were theirs...

This is for you all. For all of us...

10 years without the most important of them all.

Weeks to the 10th year without you, I'm feeling the now familiar dull ache. I'm feeling the heavy heartedness that has characterized every month of May/June for the past 10 years.
They say that time heals all wounds, but they never tell you that there are wounds that will never heal.
The pain might dull with time as you busy yourself with life and living, but it never really heals, the emptiness remains.
When faced with challenging situations, I miss your  gentle yet firm words of encouragement.
I miss the sound of your early mornings and midnight prayers. Praying for us, one after the other.
You settled our success in life on your knees, before you left.
You were and still is the most solid influence I and all my siblings ever had. You were mother, friend, confidante, counsellor, adviser, guide and teacher. You were intercessor and prayer partner.
You were strict and the firmest disciplinarian. You believed very strongly that sparing the rod spoils the child, so you spared not the rod. However, you were also generous with praise and affirmation.
You taught us to be strong, independent and generous with both ourselves and resources. You said that if we wanted anything, to go out and get it. You taught to know how to abound and to abase.
Growing up, we went back and forth between having it all and barely making ends meet, but in all of it, neither we nor the world could tell the difference.
Because of his business choices, Dad was hardly ever there and when he was, he was preoccupied with being the good cop amongst other things that he ended up not qualifying as a parental role model. He did qualify as our reference in style and elegance.

10 years without them both. We've tried to keep the fire burning, we've held on to the legacy. We are all doing well, all 7 of us. We've stayed united, even when we've disagreed with each other. And now more than ever, I feel that the love we have for each other is true and strong.

I love my 4 sisters to bits and I adore my 2 brothers.
I look around and I know we've been blessed to be borne by the most special of all women.
The woman who positively touched the life of every one who came in contact with her, in her vocation as a nurse/midwife, as a deaconess in church and as a mother to all and sundry.
This is to the most important of all the women in my life.
This is to You Mum, the woman who made me happen.

A Journey of the Heart

 When We Marry The Wrong Person: A Journey Of The Heart

Love is enough… Love conquers all…

My young heart took these statements into my marriage and lugged them around for 22 years. I knew before I ever said, “I do,” that God was saying, “Don’t.”  But I married anyway, and I paid a heavy price.

The first four years of marriage were blissful, and then it started.

The cycle was always the same – he would accuse, I would cry, I would reason, we would talk, he would apologize – I’m so sorry. I know you’ve never cheated on me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me – and I would forgive. Over and over for 18 years my husband accused me of having multiple affairs. With every painful accusation, every cutting look, through each hellish argument I told myself, It will be okay because we love each other. I didn’t see that things weren’t even close to being okay.

I soon understood why God had said, “Don’t.”

I still remember the first accusation; I was shocked, blindsided, dumbfounded. I didn’t even know how to react. An affair?! Me?! I had never even had any offers or an inappropriate conversation with another man. I was never unfaithful, but that didn’t matter. My husband was my accuser. He was the source of my pain and my comfort. He was my best friend and my worst enemy. Bad was mingled with good, hurt intertwined with love.

Years went by, our children came and grew and life seemed normal. But normal in my marriage wasn’t normal at all. My husband never laid a hand on me, but I was terrified of him. His words and eyes cut me deeper and did more damage than his fists ever could have. Physical wounds would have healed much sooner than the gaping cuts my heart walked around with. Maybe if he could have seen that I was battered and bleeding inside, he wouldn’t have repeatedly demanded that I “just get over it.” Even when things were great between us, I was acutely aware that it all could go south in a heartbeat. I walked on egg shells all day, every day.  The ache in my heart was constant.  I cried more than I care to remember. All I had ever wanted out of life was to be married and have kids. I used to think, I guess I got my wish, but this is not what I had in mind.

On the outside, my marriage looked fine. My kids were happy, and I was smiling. I wanted to be okay, so I acted like I was okay. Only God knew I was going through hell. No one at church knew, not even my family. I was completely isolated. I was a genius at covering up my pain. Survival mode said, “Preserve the marriage; protect the kids,” and I did.

I was then and am now deeply in love with Jesus.  I love my kids dearly.  They’re so great, and I love being a mom. I loved being married in spite of the junk. I was happy in spite of living in fear every day. I was full of joy and yet hopelessly sad. I didn’t want a divorce, I only wanted my husband to stop treating me so terribly. I wanted him to trust me. I wanted him to believe in me. To see into my heart and know that I truly loved him. To know that all my heart was for my family. I was desperate for him to know, once and for all, that the affairs he imagined in his mind never happened, and that his suspicions were unwarranted. I wanted him to stop taking back his apology with the next accusation. I wanted him to be the good man that I knew he could be. I told myself the same things that I’m sure most women do in my situation, But we’re Christians. If I pray enough, hope enough, believe enough… I know God can fix this. Divorce is not the plan!

And divorce is never the plan.

I know that God can fix a troubled marriage and that nothing is too hard for Him. I know He is the Great Physician and healer of all hurt. I know of His life-changing power. This knowledge kept me going, gave me hope and kept me sane. God will not, however, force someone to change. I remember the day this realization hit me like a truck. If a person isn’t willing to change, change will not happen. No matter how much I prayed for God to change my husband, to change me, or how much I tried to adapt to this ever-changing/always-the-same situation, it was never enough. I told myself, If my words, expressions and actions are just right, he won’t suspect me of having an affair. If I just try to be the perfect wife, maybe then he will see that I really do love him. But no matter what I did, nothing changed. It never dawned on me that I was in an abusive relationship. My every move was controlled, and I didn’t even realize it.

The abuse escalated during the last three years of the marriage. The accusations became more disgusting, more harsh and more frequent. His words and eyes grew more violent. No one has ever looked at me or spoken to me with more contempt than my husband. My husband – the one who promised before God to cherish and protect me. The one who should know me better than anyone. How could he hate me so much one minute and love me so much the next? I prayed repeatedly, How much of this do I have to take?! When will things change?! Each time I heard God softly tell me to stay. To this day I don’t know why, but I knew I couldn’t leave him. God didn’t remove me from the situation when I would have chosen, but He sustained me. He was so faithful to hold me and wipe my tears. Every. Time. Never. Failing.

And then one day, out of the blue, God said, “It’s time.” I didn’t have to ask, “Time for what?” He didn’t have to tell me twice. I knew exactly what He meant, and I ran. I ran and didn’t look back. Some may argue that God would never tell a person to leave a marriage, but I have no doubt that had I stayed, the abuse would have become physical. I believe God rescued me that day.

I literally felt like I had been let out of a cage.  I felt so free and yet so afraid!  The thought of being a single mom kind of terrified me, and I was so concerned about my kids.  Accusations continued to fly, and no matter what I did to protect my children and their ears, they were not to be immune from the lies. But a full year before the day of my escape, God had spoken to me very clearly. He said, “Don’t worry about your kids; I’ve got them. I love them more than you do.” Little did I know then how much those words would impact my life. I have clutched them so tightly, and they have brought me great peace.

I would love to tell you that my husband changed. I would love to tell you that we worked things out and my marriage was saved. But that is not the case. I learned some hard lessons when I disobeyed God all those years ago.

I learned that love does not conquer all. I learned that love is not enough.

I said earlier that no matter what I did, nothing changed. That’s not entirely true. I changed.

God took my disobedience and exchanged it for priceless truth. He taught me how to run to Him, and every time He met me with strength and wisdom that I did not possess on my own. I learned how to pray and trust on an entirely different level. I learned that real worship doesn’t just happen on a warm and fuzzy Sunday morning. Real worship happens when you remain faithful in the trenches day after day even though your life is falling apart around you. I learned what it means to be truly happy despite your circumstances. Real joy comes from God alone and cannot be taken from you when life gets hard. Little by little, year after year, through stubborn determination, I learned. I learned what real love is. You see, the truth is, I did have a love affair. I fell so desperately in love with God during those awful years, and that is how I survived. I had no one else to turn to. God was all I had, and I learned that He is all I need.

I learned that His love conquers all, and that His love is enough.

I disobeyed God and walked willingly into a situation with an outcome I could never have foreseen. But God, in His grace and mercy, didn’t abandon me. He followed me. He took my hand and walked with me on my journey, even though it was not His plan. He protected me and comforted me. He never once said, “I told you so.” He never once – not one time – left my side. He has never condemned me. He is gentle in His correction and passionate in His love for me.

I will be your God throughout your lifetime — until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you. (Isaiah 46:4)

I am not advocating divorce. I hope that is not what you take from my story. I want to impress upon you the unconditional love of a God who passionately pursues us. A God who redeems all of our mistakes. A God who runs after us into our storm with an umbrella and an anchor. He is our refuge and our strength (Psalm 46:1). God is our rock, our fortress, our deliverer (Psalm 18:2). He will never leave us or abandon us (Hebrews 13:5) even in our disobedience.

And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen and establish you. (1 Peter 5:10)

Three years have passed since God brought me out of that situation. He has taken me on a journey of healing that has been so amazing. I no longer live in fear or feel the incredible pain that was my constant companion for nearly my entire adult life. He has put my heart back together, replacing the missing pieces with pieces of His own heart. He has wiped away my regrets and my shame along with my tears. He is my perfect husband who knows me better than anyone. He cherishes me and protects me, and I am precious to Him.  He speaks only words of life, and if I could see His eyes, I know they would be filled, not with hatred or contempt, but with great love. He is the forever faithful love of my life. I know this today more than ever before.

For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty Savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With His love, He will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs. (Zephaniah 3:17)

I feel Him singing over me today, and it feels oh so good.

I hope that you feel the love of God today and every day no matter where you are in life or what you are going through.  In gain and lack, in peace and turmoil, in hope and despair, God is a good God.  He loves you unconditionally.  This is my prayer for you always.

I pray that from His glorious, unlimited resources He will empower you with inner strength through His Spirit. Then Christ will make His home in your heart as you trust in Him. That your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep His love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God. (Ephesians 3:16-19)

The second day.

My sweet Lady D,

I’m sad, so sad...

I want to say “I love you” once again, and again...

Remember that I said it first? And you felt a little bit frightened? 

I still love you. With all my heart, with all my being.

I never knew anyone like you. You are pretty, kind, clever, goodhearted... and a lot more things, that are way beyond my vocabulary.

And you are hot. You make me shiver, shake, heat and desire you every time we are close to each other.

I've never felt this way, never. There has been no woman in this world who make me feel like that.

For such a long time your smile has been the light that illuminates my life. You helped me so much during the bad times. And there’ll be bad times... Who knows that better than us?

Oh Lord! I’m sad...

So many good memories come to my mind just now!

My sweet Lady D,

You will always be with me. I will carry you in my heart, my person, my feelings and my dreams anywhere I go, whatever happens.

I hope you can forgive and still love this stupid guy that messed everything up with his unstoppable and restless, silly mind.

I’m so sad...

I hope some day we can try again. I promise you to grow and be better.

I’ll try my best to never hurt you again, never. If you could only wait for me... If I could only wait for you...

I love you, my sweet Lady D,

The nightmare

Two days later, over coffee, she shared their emails and how the´ve been trying to talk things over. She was still decided that quitting the relationship was the best thing for him. I was surprised at how she had willingly given up all thoughts of herself.
I´ve known him to be kind, and quite expressive.... and reading his emails was an eye opener for me and it seemed for her as well.


My sweet Lady D,

I'd like you to know about  long and horrible nightmare I had. This nightmare began on the 1st of June, last year. As you well know, this day, when I went to pick up my little boy, my ex called the Police and accused me of domestic violence, saying that i was beating her and my boy .

You know almost all the whole story. You were by me during this time, you stood by me almost all the time, and your support helped me so much.

But you couldn't get into my deepest feelings. What happened was out of your reach, and out of my reach too. 

The trials and all that came with them was too much to handle. 

I lost lots of things. First of all, I lost my self esteem, I became insecure, and my anxiety escalated. I did many things that I thought were necessary, but not precisely good for me.I had to protect myself against my anxiety, my anger and my sadness, and made an armor around my heart, and during the past few months, I wouldn´t allow anything get in or out of it.
Eventually, it felt like I also lost the capacity of being happy.
I ended up acting childishly, every now and then being led by only primal instincts. I would get angry for slightest reason, I would lash out at anything I find unpleasant, and would be content with any treat.

I had no future plans, no global vision, no real feelings, only instinct.

I lost the first battle,  with the judge's decision on alimony. It was quite an exorbitant amount of money to pay and still try to have a normal, reasonable life.

My work and my incomes were beaten too. By Christmas I was physically and emotionally exhausted. After Venice I went to my doctor and doubled the dose of my antidepressant (Sorry I didn’t tell you).

Well, finally I won two out of three, and the other one is going to take longer, but I believe that is going to be solved in a good way.

You asked me if I was celebrating, the day you knew. No, I wasn’t.

This Saturday, my aunt has invited all the family (you included), to celebrate also.

I don’t want to go. There’s nothing to celebrate.

Now I’ve realized that I took it out on you too, and worse still, I didn’t realize that you were there. I wanted to tell you so many things, but I was closed, frightened, annihilated...

Finally, just one day before my victory in court, I lost the most important thing I had.

My babe. The one that was with me during all that time. The one I love.

I don’t want to celebrate. I didn’t win at all. I did loose. A lot.

I have a long way now to get well. But I know that things will never be the same again. I know that whatever happens, me, we will NEVER get back to that 1st of June.

So here I am, feeling sad, insecure, hating myself for what I did, or did not do, alone and exhausted as I never thought I could be. Any thing I do, any decision I take I have the impression I am doing it wrong.

I can’t stop crying. My little boy asked me this morning why I was crying so much. I was looking for his slippers and found yours. I took me 15 min to recover.

Babe, I don’t know why I have to write these things to you. Something stops me when we are together. Yesterday I was again talking nonsense. Please don’t be angry with me. I’m trying hard to open myself, to think, to get better...

My problem is not about freedom. I think that I have to find myself. It has nothing to do with girls, sex, traveling or any such things. It feels like I've lost myself in this journey. I don’t know who I am.  

I hate myself for hurting you. I thought that I was strong enough to go on by myself so I wouldn’t be always telling you sad stories but, I didn’t realize that I was wrong. I didn’t see it coming...

You broke my heart when you told me that we should call it quits, I was not prepared for that. I thought you were always going to be there. I thought that we’ll have time to sort things out, that we were strong enough as a couple to talk and fix things.

At first I didn’t understand that I was hurting you for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you what was happening to me. Anytime I tried to talk to you, either I won’t dare, or my anxiety would overwhelm me, with such bad results! Words just won’t get out of me. I would decide to wait , to try again later...

I had the feeling that you knew that something was wrong, that’s why I was asking so much “Are you ok?” I suppose that I was hoping that if you would start the conversation, it would be easier to talk to you. I know now that I was right, something was inside your head, but I didn’t understand that I was the one to take the first step. I really needed help.

I am trying hard to write down some things deep in my heart. Whatever the meaning of what is written, I never mean to hurt you and if there’re any mistakes, or double meaning in what I´ve written, please take it the good way. Please. I don’t want to mess things up more...

I don’t know how to tell you that I am grateful for all your support and patience...

I DO love you.

Letting you go... A hard choice.

That evening when she walked in, I couldn´t help but notice the the bags under her eyes, something I´ve never seen in the over 30 years I´ve know her, she looked sad and that caught me off guard.
By the time she finished, I had tears in my eyes. Theirs had been a beautiful love story. Being around them was always a pleasure for me making me think that there might be hope for love after all.
Hearing her talk about leaving him almost shattered that hope... I felt bad for her, but even more, I felt bad for me and my "almost shattered hope"

The next morning she forwarded the email below to me...

My BaiM, 
Yesterday, I had to take a decision. I had to take a stand.
A hard decision. A tough choice.

It like I was pushed to do it. One of us had to anyway, and I chose to be the bad guy.

I decided to let you go.
I chose to give you up.

Letting you go is harder than I imagined, but even in the pain that dulls my heart, I feel it is what you need.
I think you should enjoy this liberty you now have. 

I might be a lot of things, but I'm not stupid and I'm not selfish, maybe I'm mistaken, but this past few months, you've been restless, and dissatisfied.
 Consider it a gift, call it whatever you want, but all I want is for you to be happy. 

Like I said yesterday, go out there and do what you have to do, enjoy your freedom, have fun! By all means, explore, and please be happy!

I have no intention, not now and not ever, of tying anybody up. It's not in my nature as you well know, and I'm sorry that we got to a stage in our relationship that you felt that way.

I have loved before, deeply and passionately, (I always do), but I loved you differently, maybe more deeply, maybe more passionately, maybe both, but I know I loved you the way I've not loved anybody before, I know I loved you totally and intensely without holding back, I gave you the whole of me, the best of me and I had a hell of a good time! I loved the way you loved me! 

You stole my heart before I realised what was happening. You swept me off my feet, and you made me feel special.

You were the one constant in my life for a while. You were the rock I leaned on. You were my first thought and smile of the day and the last before I hit the sack. 

You were my BiaM!

What more can I say? 

Loving you seem to be the best thing I've done in a really long time...and I hope that during this period I was able to show you how much you meant to me

I have nothing to reproach you with, what we had was great, you were great, this fantasy like you called it was great, it was fun and I have my memories to prove that and to hold onto.

I don't know what I'll do or how I will do them. I don't know what my tomorrow holds, I don't know when or if I'll come out my current situation. However, I know that I do not expect you or anybody else to just sit by and wait while we see what happens.

I understand that you want more, but even though it tears my heart, I have nothing more to give. 

I understand that you're not satisfied with what I can give, but I can´t do more, even if I tried.  

I understand that it's not enough and I can't reproach you for wanting more.

I love you enough to let you go, I love you enough to want you to be happy.

No matter what happens, it was a good decision to allow myself fall in love with you and who knows, maybe it's a good decision to let it go or maybe it's not.

There won't be any promises, because maybe I can't keep them, there won't be any requests nor demands because maybe they won't be granted.
You're free, and if we find our way again, if we are ever able to rediscover what we've had, it'll make me very happy. 

But if not, just know that, You have been a great BaiM! And I love you still.

Sharing: This is someone else's story but I found it so touching that I had to share...

When I was nineteen, I was kicked out of my mother’s house. At the time, I understood abuse as hitting or raping; I didn’t know that such a thing as emotional abuse occured, or that it could be just as damaging as the physical or sexual varieties. Nor did I know that it could rear its ugly head in so many different ways.

Very soon after I was kicked out, I met a man whom I will call Aaron. He seemed beautiful, in every way. We got very close very fast, and within a matter of weeks, claimed each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. To escape my living situation (I had an apartment with horrible room mates), I spent more and more nights in Aaron’s bed. Soon, I was spending whole weeks there without once going home. After a few months, we decided to get an apartment together, but I had to move between states on a low income. I remained on the lease with my room mates to keep my vehicle legal while I worked to fund the repairs for state inspection, and was unable pay for rent at Aaron’s house during that time.

I should take a minor break and tell you that I believed myself to be a strong woman. I had been abused in my parents’ house, and I thought I knew what abuse was all about. I knew all the facts: abused people abuse others, women who are abused as children are much more likely than their unabused counterparts to be caught in the same cycle. I remember hearing about the incident with Rhianna and Chris Brown, and I remember thinking “That will never happen to me.” I understood that my best friend was caught in a cycle of abuse, but I had no clue that that was exactly what was happening to me.

You see, as time passed, Aaron slowly caught me up in that same vicious abuse cycle. It began with little comments made in a temper fit, easily justified by his “bad mood.” Those comments got worse, especially when I lost 20 hours a week at my job and lost my car, and had to rely on him completely. He blamed it on stress. He told me I was a loser, he told me that I had a million problems; that I was a workload and a codependent. He told me that I was broken, and that I always had been, and only he could fix me. I never questioned him. I believed him.

In the span of a year, he stole my confidence, my self-esteem, and my self-reliance. He removed me from my position of stability and put me in a position where I had nothing to give to myself, emotionally or economically. I was trapped.

Then, one night, after the only fight in which I held my ground, he did what he had never done before and started carting my possessions down to the street. He said, “you don’t live here, your name is not on the lease, you need to leave or I’m calling the police.” I left, I found myself a one-bedroom apartment, and began with nothing, not even a bed.

I stayed with him for another year, enduring the emotional turmoil because I loved him and because I didn’t believe I was worth a better man. Then, one night, he told me that he had dropped his standards to be with me. I tried to leave him then, but he begged me to stay. A week after that, in a “stressful” situation, he kicked me out of his car on a dark, cold, rainy night, miles from the nearest town. He did swing back around to pick me up, but I demanded to be taken home, and he said “If you ruin this night, I’ll never speak to you again.” I said: “OK.”

Right now, I’m working on a degree in psychology. I plan on taking it all the way up to the Master’s level so that I can practice psychotherapy. I’m still poor, but I have resources and connections now that I never would have considered when Aaron was my entire reality. I know men whose only agenda for their women is to provide for, protect, and love them. I also believe in myself, I discovered the vast potential within me that exists in every human being.

What did I learn about abuse?

Emotional abuse is just as damaging as physical or sexual, albeit in different ways, and is often more dangerous because of its subtlety. It can happen to anybody, even the smartest, most ass-kicking woman on the planet.

Abusers don’t abuse you because there’s something wrong with YOU. Something inside of them is broken, and you can’t fix it. Oh, they may blame you for it all the time, but that does not make it your fault, or your responsibility.

What did I learn about myself and my relationships?

1. NEVER let another person make you believe you are broken and they are the only one who can fix you. Your flaws are your responsibility. No human can be your savior.

2. NEVER let another person define your mistakes or imperfections for you. What you like about yourself and what you don’t like about yourself are up to you to decide, no other person has that right.

3. KNOW that a man who’s worth that title will provide for you and protect you, that he will never trap you, and that if he does hurt you, he will shake the world to make it better.

4. KNOW that you, yes, little old you, are a gift to the whole world. You are not a workload, a project, a security blanket, or a sidekick, and nobody should ever make you feel that way.

You have it within you to move mountains and boil seas. You are the person who endures immeasurable pain to bring life into the world. You are the person swimming against the socioeconomic tide to make something of yourself. You are the person who will give every little bit of yourself to make another person happy. Love yourself for what you give to the world, and never settle for a man who doesn’t see what you give too.

By Kate Phillips

The woman from Nigeria.

I read this somewhere and I just can´t help but share...

The Nigeria woman is extraordinary. She pops up at every equation that capture 

Nigeria. She is the trader on the street, the tiller of the ground and the keeper 

of the home - She is the economic powerhouse of the nation. She is the mother and at 

the same time, father to her children, a position some men have voluntarily if 

unknowingly relinquished. She combines a full time job with mothering Four children, 

wife to a demanding husband, holding down a major role in church and studying for a 

PhD in Applied Science. She is the multi-tasker no one expects to complain.

Without the Nigerian woman, there would be no Nigeria. She is the spine of the nation, 

by virtue of being the spine of her husband, the spine of her children and the spine of 

the extended family. She stays up to encourage her studying children whilst her husband 

is fast asleep. She still has to rise long before dawn to dawn to prepare food and plan 

the day. She is indefatigable, indestructible and indescribable.

She accepts her husband´s indiscretions with dignity and takes his intransigency on the 

chin. She deals with her societal-imposed minority role with utmost diplomacy. She 

smiles whilst suffering. She executes her roles with the utmost diligence.

The Nigerian woman is the ultimate homebuilder, engineer, medical personnel, 

arbitrator between children and father, advocate on behalf of the children, human 

resource specialist, Operations Manager, the Prime Minister of the family government, 

the teacher of manners and etiquette, the prayer intercessor and the attentive 

listener.

She comes in every shade of colour, shape and style. There are eight types of Nigerian 

women: the dark-skinned, the slim-figured, the amply-shaped, the short and the tall, 

the effizy and the traditional.

The Nigerian woman is stylish. Whatever her age; style and looking good are indelibly 

programmed into DNA. She relishes the beauty of her naturally tanned skin, full lips and 

her thick strong and healthy hair. She is effervescent and drop-dead gorgeous. She 

beleives that God spent extra time on her and this makes her unrepentantly confident. 

She is confident of natural allure, allure, confident of her body and confident of the 

future.

As a girl-child, she already has a routine of making her hair every week. She is big time 

into cleanliness and may even shower twice a day. She will speak with boldness and will 

not be led astray by anyone. 

Between 18 to early twenties, she knows how to style her hair into different looks on a 

daily basis. She is either in the last lap of university or doing her National service. It is 

also possible that she is working in an oil company, a bank or even pursuing her Master´s 

Programme.

At mid-twenties, she has a clear mental plan of her future. She knows what she wants, 

the type of man that will complement her plan for success in life. Except she chooses to 

be deceived, an average Nigerian woman in her twenties is too mentally and 

emeotionally sophisticated to fall for any silly tricks.

In her 30s, the Nigerian woman is an established businesswoman who knows every nook 

and cranny of Naples, Dubai, Milan and the outback of Guangzhou. Whether she has a 

shop in downtown Isale-Eko or the upmarket Isaac John Street in GRA, Ikeja, she is 

financially savy, hardworking and consistent.

Nowadays, there is no industry or vocation in which the Nigerian woman is not actively 

involved. The other day, I met a lady who says she is landscape gardener. There are also 

women motor mechanics, photographers and Danfo bus drivers.

Nigerian women do not settle for the dictate that a girl´s fame and fortune depends on 

her beauty, they will rather combine beauty with brain and brawn. At a perriod in 2006, 

the Director-General of the Nigerian Stock Exchange, the Foreign Minister, the Finance 

Minister and the head of the Food and Drugs Agency in Nigeria were all women.

The Nigerian woman is also in many instances, the unassuming quiet woman at home, the 

one who sold puff-puff and carried load on her head amongst other things to send her 

children to school. She is the one who plays second fiddle to her husband and subjugates 

her personal ambitions to that of her husband´s. The Nigerian woman is still sadly 

repressed in many of our cultures and traditions, but the future is hers. I have no doubt 

that the Nigerian woman is ably qualified for a Nobel Prize in longsuffering, sheer 

industry and nation building.

For her strenght, indestructibility, dignity and her contributions to nation-building, the 

Nigerian woman deservedly is a wonder of Nigeria, if not a wonder of the world.