My December cried, laughed…tears in my eyes

Dear Diary,

It’s been quite an age. A lot has happened.

Dear me, I don’t even know where to start.

Working with New Telegraph is quite tasking and time consuming. It’s so time consuming, that I pity colleagues that have active sex lives.

The work schedule at my office is affecting my intimacywithjulianafrancis site and Julianafrancisblog.

I used to enjoy journalism, but now I don’t know anymore…

Threat, after threat stare coldly into my face from every nook and cranny.  It dogs my footsteps, follows me into my bedroom, bed and sleep. It becomes my nightmare.

I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should call it quit. But after that, what next?

Age is not even on my side. I need a guy to take care of me. I’m not a weakling, but sometimes I just wished someone could take care of me…sometimes someone could tell me to take a load off my shoulder.  Sometimes I wish I could sleep without worry lines marring my face. I wish I could sleep soundly without tossing and kicking, waking up every hour to stare out of the darkened world through my  window.

I have so many tales to tell, but my pillow knows most of them and has witnessed and wipe my tears several times.

I keep a brave front for the world, laughter never far from my lip and eyes, but my heart breaks under desperate need, yearning, want…I’m hunched back under the weight of responsibilities…

Anyway, December 2016 was  a mixture of joy and pain in my family.

My elder sister’s husband died after an intense battle with cancer.

My sister suffered. We all suffered. We all cried. And we are all healing together.

…then kid brother’s wife had a baby girl that same December. The baby is a beauty.

We almost lost Joy, but we prayed. I became a prayer warrior. She and her husband went to register at a questionable hospital.

At a first glance , I knew something was wrong with the hospital. The hospital embarked on CS without first ensuring that pints of blood are available.

When it was time for blood transfusion, there was no available. The time was past 11pm.

You can best imagine our situation. I vowed to sue the hospital, but my spiritual father begged me not to. Rather, we should be a praying mantis.

Mama was sick too. Nothing seemed to be working for her…not hospital, not drugs. We prayed and fasted.

As for me, everyday, I go to bed tired and I get up tired. I worried about my life and when things would begin to turn around.

I worry about Glory and Emeka…

…and when all chips appear to be down, I look up to God.

…and when the chips are down,  four young eyes keep me fighting…never to give up…

If I stumble, I think of those eyes, I struggle up, to keep on trudging…to keep on fighting…

Dear Diary, I need to go. It’s light out…

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