Speaking From the Depths

Speaking from the depths

As I write this, I am sitting on my bed in Ghana. Feeling somewhat lost, but almost found. Over the past few weeks, I have had moments of perceptive clarity. Epiphanic episodes so to speak. I have been writing since I was five, however, speaking my truth has always been a terrifying fear of mine. Something changed last week when I started reading Girl Code by Carla Lewill Lebya. She writes her truth, she speaks candidly about her experiences and boldly encourages you to do what makes your heart sing. If I am to speak from the depths of my heart, I have lived my life in fear, terrified of what the outside world would think of me.

Throughout my life, I have taken leaps of faith and done it anyway although I was trembling inside. As I write this, I shudder to think of what people might say about my complete truth. I have written a lot of fiction over the years, in fact, I am currently in the process of writing a novel. Apart from writing non-fiction lifestyle articles and guides, I am a short story writer. I enjoy writing short, mystery tales.

I decided to write this book because I had this deep burning desire to share my notes. The scribbles that I wrote in my journal over the years. I need to explain, to share, to release.

Here I am typing at 9:30 pm on a Tuesday evening, I still have no idea whether or not I am actually going to release this book, but I have to write it anyway. I am going to tell you how I pulled myself out of the deepest depths of despair to start my first online media business. How I battle daily through crippling depression and anxiety to run my online media company and homeschool my son. How I have managed to push through the pain to find comfort and peace on most days. I am still fighting, but I am winning.

Delve is more than a self-help book, It is my story and hopefully telling my tale can inspire someone to keep on fighting.

Chapter 1

Dad

“If you want to achieve something, fix your eyes on it like a laser beam and go for it with all your strength.” -My dad

I have always been intrigued by my dad's love for personal development books. My dad came to the UK from Ghana many years ago to pursue higher education. He managed to get a respectable job as an accountant, and we lived in a beautiful house in Kent for most of our childhood.

He gave me The Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale when I was nine years old. I devoured it in the space of a week, I understood the concept of thinking positive and eliminating negative thoughts at a very early age. I tested the idea of focusing intently on a goal and believing in it wholeheartedly and working on it until you achieve the desired result.

At the end of every month, we had a maths test at school. I hated maths with a passion, I would try to get out of it most of the time by feigning sickness. However, this month, I decided to face my fear and put positive thinking to the test. I revised every evening, I wrote down positive affirmations every day, and I went into the test with a positive mindset. The following week, I received my results, I came top of the class, earning 87%. At the end of the term, my report for maths was “very good” as opposed to “she needs to improve.”

My dad rewarded me with £10, I spent it on an Enid Blyton book and sweets. My father, although our relationship was somewhat awkward, he inspired me to push myself academically and achieve good grades in school. He also taught me to face my fears. I suffered from anxiety, and I often panicked about not living up to my parent's expectations. My dad pushed me to believe in my own power and create my own reality, but something along the way went wrong. I began to let fear consume me, I went off the rails and started hanging out with the wrong crowd.

I was 13, it was a Friday morning, I got dressed for school, and I walked to the bus stop. However, instead of taking the bus in the direction of my school, I took the bus going in the opposite direction toward my best friend's house in South East London. We had both decided that we were going to skip school for the day. I arrived at her home at 9 am, we were excited about the day ahead. Our day consisted of drinking cherry brandy, cider, and smoking strawberry flavored cigarettes. The day ended with both of us being rushed to hospital with alcohol poisoning. I woke up in Greenwich hospital with my mum, aunty, and sister staring at me and with bright lights blinding me.

There was no sign of my dad, I was terrified at the thought of him. I knew he would be disappointed in me, I was disappointed in myself. As I walked down the corridor in a drunken stupor, I could faintly hear my mum screaming “I will find a way to bundle you off to Ghana, what kind of nonsense is this?” My sister was laughing, and my aunty was shaking her head in disbelief.

The next day I hid away in my room and cried. My dad entered the room, “come downstairs when you are ready.”

Apprehensive, I reluctantly climbed into the shower and washed off the previous day's disgrace. I slowly crept down the stairs oblivious to what was ahead of me. I sat down at the dining table. My dad and my uncle sitting at the head of the table like a judge and jury.

I felt physically sick. A bottle of Smirnoff vodka on the table, my dad said two words, “drink it.” I burst into tears remembering the taste of the sickly cherry brandy and unbearable stench of cheap cider. I refused to drink it, this was my dad's way of putting me off alcohol for the rest of my life. His plan failed, my uncle rescued me from my punishment. I was simply told to go back to my room. That was the end of it.

Over the years, I drifted further away from my father, but despite our relationship being strained, I wanted to draw closer to him. As I write this, our relationship is non-existent. I pray that changes. The connection, or lack of connection I had with my dad has affected me deeply, but I do take responsibility for the decisions that I have made in life. I accept my wrongs, and I believe that you can either allow situations to break you, or you can learn from them. I have chosen to learn and grow.

Lessons Learned

My dad planted the seed of positive thinking in my mind from a young age. I have always carried it with me.

I will always refer back to the books my dad gave me as a child, I will never forget the lessons, I will always learn and grow from everything he taught me.

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My book is available here>>> Delve: My Heartfelt Notes on Delving Deep and Climbing High