Aries Letters

 Growing up my dreams were simple, I wanted to be a princess. How hard could it possibly be? All I have to do is wear cute ballroom dresses, live in a castle, smile and greet people and occasionally ride horses. That to me seems like a simple life.  Fast forward to today and in reality, I am 20-something working an actual 9 to 5, while trying to get a degree which in all honesty is giving me so much grief (like why can't you just be as easy as 123) and somewhere in all this, I am expected to live a decent social life and possibly have a stable relationship. In this same one life???? That is not what 5-year-old me thought, because as far as I know, the Prince was bound to find me in a castle. But alas, I do not live in one. This could probably be the reason I am single, instead of being in a castle in some faraway land, I am in Lusaka lol. At 5, my dreams were cute and pure, and life also seemed so much simpler and cooler as from my little girl eyes, iyee imwe kali ka book kama...

I made a very shocking discovery this past week, I AM HUMAN! (Shocking ey). I have been trying so hard to be more than human. Today's piece is a journal entry I felt I need to share, it will probably go onto my next podcast episode but before then, I want you to read about it.  For those that have not been following my year, I fell in January and that was the beginning of a long and agitating journey.  The morning after I fell, I went to my physiotherapist and she immediately sent me to go get an MRI, this was followed by a consultation with an orthopedic surgeon, and well the whole thing was mapped out, from surgery to the healing process, I was told by 6 months, you'll be good to go! If you know me! Ine? I was already planning what summer 22 would be like because the leg will be working. Fast forward to May, my health took an extra deep dive, and surgery was put on hold... Now you need to understand my agitation because we were approaching winter and immediately after winter...

Once upon a time, I hated how I looked. I was this fat, ugly pimple-faced teenager with 2 rabbit teeth and the worst 4C hair you could ever imagine.  My teen years definitely count as some of my toughest years of confidence and self-discovery. My body is naturally on the chubby side, and I looked a bit older than my actual age growing up so that never made it any easier. I was often accused of lying about my age, and the big boobs and early menses made it harder to defend myself, because why are you wearing a B-cup bra in 7th grade??? Fast forward to high school, the dark ages lol kudos to the boys who actually liked me then, y'all are real ones!😂.  One of the most hurtful things I ever heard was people in my class used to call me "Johnny Bravo" behind my back, and anyone who knows that cartoon would attest to the fact that his body structure wasn't the cutest. I sobbed so hard the day I found that out, and that was the beginning of my insecurities. I started looking...

 I remember how cool those words were growing up lol. We've been journaling for a long while, we just didn't call it that. We called it "writing in our diaries". Oh, how I looked forward to writing in mine after every eventful day, good or bad. It felt right to do so, and even better after pouring out.  So here is a quick story about one of my dear diary moments (also known as my first and most embarrassing moment). I was in sixth grade, and I had this huge crush on a guy in grade 10(in my defense he looked like Bow Wow, the old one 😂), we he was an exact replica. Anyway, ifwe we wrote mu diary. I had those tuma diaries that had a lock and key but you could easily open them with a pen or a pin. I never used to leave it at home because I was afraid someone would read it, little did I know the real devils were sixth graders lol. So this one day, 3 girls in my class got my diary out of my bag, opened it, and started reading it. They stumbled upon the parts I wrote about...

 What's keeping you up at night? What's keeping you uneasy? Is it health? finances? relationships? or just what tomorrow holds... You see, I am guilty of having sleepless nights, most nights I wake up in a full-on panic attack because I just don't know what tomorrow looks like for me... I have been injured for a while now, and the longer I go, the more my anxiety builds and my bad days seem longer. I am struggling with living in the now because I am constantly worried about what my doctor will say or what more costs this is bound to incur. I spend most days wondering when it ends, in all this I neglect the good things happening now, like how I am blogging more or baking more and better, or how I wake up every day and have an income.  A lot of my triggers come from comments such as "you're not yet okay", or "you have been injured too long" or the worst of them all "I know a Pastor who can help", I get it sometimes people mean well but its al...

Life has been lifing lately (please don’t judge my wording lol). It has been a series of long days, I go to bed exhausted and wake up even more exhausted. Passion and drive have an interesting way of making you keep pushing even when your mind and body are telling you to pose.  Everyone has a life balance they are working through, mine is the “Work and school balance”. I am working from 9am to 5pm, then I have to be in class from 5:30 to 7:30 physically, from Monday to Friday. So my brain is practically functioning throughout the day, I sometimes fall asleep and I am awake in my subconscious wondering what is left to be done or what I’m slacking on.  In between work tasks and due assignments, pending tests and a failed attempt at having a social life, I am exhausted. Today I finally acknowledged my exhaustion because I found myself listening to Travis Greene’s Won't Let Go, and it was coming from the bottom of my heart because I am really contemplating which one I need to sacr...

  Once upon a time... I was a writer. I wrote poems, stories, letters, some of the best compositions and once or twice, I wrote my vows (LOL).  I haven't written anything in years, aside from my usual journaling. But I guess its time to put the gloves back on and see if I still got it.  I started to write at the age 12, it was a coping mechanism in boarding school. I really disliked the school I went to and being new to an environment that has your whole life (day) planned out for you didn't really sit well with me. We had compulsory study times, twice in a day and anyone who knows me, knows I can't study to save my life. Sleeping in class was not an option, noise making always got me punished, so I had to find something to keep me busy for at least 2 hours, every single day. I started with notes, I'd write a couple of notes and deliver them around to friends after prep, with time I started writing poems at the back of my books.  One random day, I started to write an...