1. Dwama on the way…
I’m 38. Past prime baby making age. Married for the second time after a truly beautiful romance with a truly beautiful man. This was meant to be my phoenix; I was meant to rise above the generational and personal hounds of infidelity. God dropped in my lap this godly, gentle, and kind man, and I didn’t even ask for it. But he came in strong with the intentional, creative, sacrificial and transcendent vibe. I fought it too, but when he sprinkled the love of God on top…IT. WAS. A. WRAP. I wanted to be a ‘detty detty gyal’ with him, and that was new. I was super traumatised from my past. I had been married for 7 years to what I thought was an abusive narcissist (not as clear cut as this anymore). I had had my life plan shattered, and D’ex (the ex) had taking a raging shhhh over my self-esteem. So, your girl embraced the conservative independent single London girly life…and then the itch arrived. That itch not of God. And at this point I was seeking God. Let me just give it a score for convenience. On a scale of 1 to 10, my relationship with Jesus was 5 though I thought it was a solid 8. Thinking back, I was not rooted in Christ, my bible gathered dust, I didn’t understand the words in it. I didn’t ‘believe in the church’, and thought it was enough to be spiritual. So, one day I wrote a list. I had the manifesting hunnies all over my feeds and I caved (not good). Then I forgot about it until the itch came, I played on hinge for laughs which landed me across a table from Smoo. Et voilà! My list come alive.
Today:
So, a meeting has been called. One I resent to admit is necessary. My anger did not release me enough to be reasonable and organise this ‘talk it out’ myself. So Smoo’s parents did. We are African, and that’s what we do. I appreciate it, it’s important to have elders around you in the rubble, and best if the people have faith. All good things aside - I want to rip his face off! He wounded the wounded. My anger scares me, but it’s my fear that terrifies me more. My life has imploded. No bells rung, rug snapped from underneath me. Anyway, what is it they want to talk about? They want to discuss his infidelity three months into our marriage. Yuk! Mxxxxiu (when you know you know). I’m tired of crying, besides, I spent all my bitterness on my past. But what I do know to do and do well is watch a silhouette shrink in my rearview. So that’s an option. And my preferred. But…God. What say He.
