Finding Purpose and buying a Raspberry Sorbet

I have spent the last one year trying to be still and find my purpose. I have gone for long walks, had coffee with good friends, locked it in, let it out, prayed, read and cried loudly when I am alone. 

In the last few months, I started coming to the realization that my purpose is here and now. It is not any one thing or job. It is what I do with today and how I choose to close each day I am blessed with. It is in reviewing each day and building on it the next because a day that we lose is lost forever. So I started learning to ask myself, did I make the best use of the gift of the last 24 hours? have I made a difference to anyone? have I loved my neighbour...But even before that, have I loved myself? After all, the commandment is to love your neighbour as yourself... 

It all begins with loving yourself, because it is how you will learn to love others.

I am 18 years married and almost 17 years a mum. Somehow, I managed to bury my true self in the process of creating and maintaining my spousal and maternal identities. The other day, I had to stop for a minute at the grocery store to remember what type of ice-cream I liked. You see, the default ice-cream I have been buying for the last 10 years or so is french vanilla, a flavour I find boring but somehow just make do with because "it's what the rest of the family like". I am convinced that this is a common pattern with people who have a deep sense of duty and responsibility. We want our loved ones to be alright so we deliver piece after piece of ourselves as sacrifices on the altar of love. Mind you, it is often a sacrifice not requested of us. In fact, the people around you may not realize that some of the things you give so "easily" are being given at the expense of your true self. 

When I was young, I used to write poetry and keep a journal. I wrote about everything; so much so that my old writings have become historical markers for me. I can tell from a dated old poem when I met my first boyfriend and when I broke up with him. When I went to learn coding with the black screen in the 90's (bad idea, Ari and codes don't relate) and when I had my first crush. I wrote poems that roughly dated important political milestones in Nigeria. In fact, writing was my happy place. 

Aside from writing, I also loved to read, to travel, eat food cooked by other people and just enjoy the sight, smell and sound of the ocean. I had deep conversations with strangers on the beach, went dancing ( I am a terrible dancer) with my friends and spent hours just being still and enjoying nature. I did not care much for cooking, cleaning or watching TV, my mind was on an endless quest to discover new things and solve more challenges. I had little interest or attachment to material things. I valued experiences over things (except perfumes and books). I was young, carefree and happy! I worked, I saved, and then I spent most of it doing the things I loved.  It  was a very happy season of my life and my spirit radiated a glow that drew similar people to me. Those were the years when I met some of my best friends till date. Similar souls that lived fully, felt deeply and related kindly to all around them. 

For some crazy reason, once I became a wife and a mother, I convinced myself that my natural inclinations were not compatible with the responsibilities of marriage and motherhood and so I began to slowly and subconsciously push my real self to the background. I took up cleaning and cooking and looking after people ( I was the last of 7 children and had never had to look after anyone prior to getting married). I did what I thought was expected of me and would often be too uninspired to write or read anything at the end of the day. Afterall, I couldn't be at work all day and come home and ignore my family.

This was how I gradually adopted a new identity without considering the fact that there was enough room for all of the girl I was and the woman I was becoming. The one part of my identity that did not change was travelling. Although it was different from travelling alone, I still continued to enjoy discovering new places. 

My family got used to my standard of giving so I could not entertain the thought of being less than they were accustomed to. It took me about 18 years, a relentless spiritual restlessness and the encouragement of  old friends and my children to begin to retrieve long buried aspects of my original identity bit by bit. I would take a little time to read a book, write a peice and sit in stillness in the backyard. When i felt inclined to jump up and solve another little domestic problem, I would gently remind myself that the sky is not about to fall.

My family is alright, they have been, and will always be. Nobody asked me to give up myself for them, I chose to do that. So the responsibility is on me to restore my authentic self. 

This is my purpose, because there is a divine reason why I was made the way I was. A reason why I was given the talents I have. So it begins, one day at a time, one change at a time and one blog post after another. If you are reading this, start by getting yourself a small tub of your favourite ice cream... If you still know what it is. Mine is a raspberry sorbet.