The past year was a lot. And I mean, A LOT! I was tired, depressed, exhausted and crying every minute but that’s a story for another day. Writing is sometimes therapy for me, whether I’m writing about how I feel or making a to do list, it helps me feel 10,000 times lighter. It clears my head and I can see things a little better.

A lot has changed since I last hit “publish.” I’m not exactly the same person who wrote that last newsletter. Life has stretched me in ways I never expected. I’ve learned lessons I didn’t ask for, made mistakes I’ll probably laugh about one day, and discovered parts of myself I didn’t even know existed. I honestly didn’t think I would make it this far but here I am, moving on with my life and in a much better place. I still I have a long way to go but I’m glad I’ve started the journey.

One thing this period taught me is that everything happens for a reason. So many times I questioned why things happened and I just realized, it happened for a purpose. No matter how bad things get, there still a chance for things to get better. And it is so funny how you slowly heal without realizing it. One day you’re crying over something you can’t imagine surviving, and months later you’re talking about it without your voice shaking.

Like I said, maybe one day I’ll talk about it, or maybe not. But here I am again, ready to burden you with the thoughts that fill my head. I still owe you the remaining episodes from the Self-Esteem Series and I have another piece coming too. I’m genuinely happy to be back and I hope I haven’t chased you all away with my inactivity.

If you’ve been here since the beginning, thank you for waiting. If you’re new here, I’m really glad you found your way to this little corner of the internet.

But before I go, tell me something. What’s one lesson life has taught you this past year?

I’d genuinely love to read your answers.❤️

Elara had just gotten back from work and she was exhausted. She quickly pulled off her heels and slipped her feet into the comfy slippers she used to move around the house. Her feet ached as she took each step into the house. She definitely had to go to the spa this weekend and so she made a mental note to book an appointment before the week ended.

The office had been hectic the past few weeks and she had finally closed her biggest client ever. She had sleepless nights because of this project and she had gone above and beyond for it.

Tonight was a night of celebration and she had bought a bottle of red wine for that effect. She got a glass from the kitchen and went into her room to take a long nice bath.

Hot baths always seemed to calm her down and loosen up her tightened knots.She could feel her nerves relaxing as she soaked her body in the tub. With a glass of wine in hand she began to reminisce about how the past week had been. She takes a sip of her wine as she recalls the fight she and her fiance had earlier the week. This project had put a huge strain on their relationship and she had to fix it. She couldn’t lose him, anybody but him.

He’d been her best friend since they were twelve, the one who’d sat with her under the playground slide when she cried about her parents’ absence, the one who’d proposed to her under a sky full of stars—carefully planned for dusk, never true night. She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose as she remembers the last conversation they had.

Determined to fix things with Theo, she wraps herself in her bathrobe and steps out to the bedroom to get her phone on the nightstand. But just as she steps into the room, the lights go out.

She freezes in her steps. The familiar terror grips her. The darkness had always frightened her, not the simple absence of light, but the feeling that it held something. She believed there was something in the darkness watching her.

She had never slept with the light off since she was nine. After being trapped in the school’s pitch-black basement, cold and hungry for more than ten hours, she had never been the same. It was the school janitor who had found her unconscious while making his final rounds. Her parents were of no help as they had been too busy to realize that their child was suffering in silence.

Since then, every shadow felt like a reminder of that dreadful day. The shadows on her wall always looked like long fingers, stretching from the corners of her room to wrap around her bed.

Her body betrayed her as she stumbled backward into a corner. She started to hear the whispers, there were always whispers. And as she looked around in fear for the source of the whispers, her mind began to conjure shapes in the corners and figures that weren’t actually there.

Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, curling into herself. The cold ground sent chills down her spine, and sweat broke out on her forehead. The figures began to emerge from the walls and slowly stalked towards her.

Her heart pounded, her chest tightened, and her clammy hands shook as she rubbed her face, trying to dispel the visions of figures emerging from the walls. They were there—tall, faceless shapes stalking closer, their whispers taunting her. Tears streamed down her face as she whimpered, paralyzed by the suffocating fear.

She could faintly hear her name being called but the she didn’t know where it was coming from. A faint voice cut through the haze, distant but familiar. She barely registered it, her mind lost to the figures circling her. Then came a louder sound—bangs on the door, followed by the jangle of keys. The door creaked open, and Elara’s breath caught, her terror spiking. Was this how she would end?

A silhouette stepped inside, holding a small flashlight, its beam slicing through the dark. “Elara, it’s me,” the figure said, the voice was soft but urgent. The light swept closer, revealing familiar brown eyes and a worried frown. It was Theo, her fiancé. He dropped to his knees beside her, setting the flashlight on the floor so its glow bathed them both. “Hey, hey, I’m here. What’s wrong?”

Elara’s voice trembled as she tried to speak, pointing shakily at the empty corners. “They… they were there. The figures… they were coming for me.” Her words dissolved into a sob, and Theo’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. His warmth grounded her, a stark contrast to the cold dread that had gripped her moments before. “They’re gone now,” he whispered, his voice steady. “It’s just us. I’ve got you.” He didn’t question her fear or dismiss it, though she knew he’d never fully understood her nyctophobia.

She’d been so consumed with closing her biggest client yet that she’d pushed him away, and the guilt now mingled with her fear. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, clinging to him. “For everything. I didn’t mean to shut you out.” Theo shook his head, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. “We’ll figure it out, El. But right now, let’s get you somewhere safe.” He helped her to her feet, keeping the flashlight trained on the floor to avoid startling her. He moved her to the couch in her bedroom, where he lit a few candles from the drawer she kept for emergencies. The soft flicker wasn’t enough to banish the dark entirely, but it was enough to keep her breathing steady.

Sitting on the couch, Elara clutched a candle. Theo sat beside her, his hand resting lightly on hers. “I came over because I was worried,” he admitted. “You weren’t answering your phone, and with the power out… I just had a feeling.”

She nodded, her throat tight. “The dark… It’s like it’s alive sometimes. I know it’s not real, but it feels real.” She hadn’t talked about it in years, not since the therapist her parents had halfheartedly sent her to. But Theo listened, his silence encouraging her to continue. And for the first time, she told him about the basement, the whispers, the way every shadow felt like a threat. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to fix it—just let her words spill out.

When she finished, he squeezed her hand. “What if we try something small? Like we did when we were kids, remember? You were scared of the lake, so we dipped our toes in together until you could swim.” He gestured to the candle. “We could blow one out, just for a second. I’ll be right here.”

Elara’s heart raced at the thought, but Theo’s steady presence made the impossible feel… possible. She nodded hesitantly. “One second,” she whispered. He counted down softly, and she blew out the candle. The dark surged, but his hand stayed firm in hers. “One,” he said, and she relit the candle, her hands shaking but her breath steady.

They sat there through the night, candles burning low, talking about their fight, her work, their future. Elara made a mental note to book that spa appointment and one for therapy, too. The dark wasn’t gone, and maybe it never would be. But with Theo beside her, the shadows felt a little less alive, and for the first time in years, Elara thought she might just find a way to face them.

Just at the end of the road, a woman in a flowing white gown could be seen approaching the town. She walked with slow, deliberate steps, her bare feet making no sound against the cold stone path. She was definitely not from the town as it was obvious she didn’t know the danger she was facing by walking the streets of the town at this time. She was walking to her death and she didn’t know it. No one ever survived this night outside in this town.

As the town clock struck twelve, a ghostly hum filled the air, vibrating through the streets. The dreaded moment had finally come. Suddenly a loud shriek echoed throughout the town. No one dared to step out of their homes. Mothers huddled their children close, whispering prayers and the fathers stood guard but no one dared to step outside. The town had learned, long ago, that there was no fighting what lurked in the still night.

The woman, unaware of this, trudged forward to her death. As she neared closer, the stains on her white dress could be seen. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, stopping just above her waist. In the moonlight, her brown skin glistened, and her soft, delicate features, almond-shaped eyes, a button nose, and full lips were all visible under the full moon. She looked like a goddess.

She halted, her breath hitching as she took in her surroundings. She noticed how empty the streets were. No human nor animal was in sight. The houses stood like silent sentinels, their windows dark and lifeless. She cleared her throat. “Hello?” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. It barely carried in the night air, swallowed by the suffocating silence. No answer. Her brows furrowed. Not a single whisper of the wind, not even the distant bark of a stray dog. She glanced at the lamppost ahead, its light flickering weakly, struggling against an unseen force. She continued walking hoping she'd find someone.

At that moment, there was a rustle in bushes and her head snapped toward the sound. A little boy's head peaked out from the bushes. She stepped closer, her gaze locking onto his. The boy, barely six or seven, blinked up at her with wide, fearful eyes. His small hands trembled as he gripped the bush for support. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her. “Miss,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “You have to hide.” Her lips parted. “What?” The boy’s gaze darted past her, searching the empty street. His voice trembled. “It’s coming.”

A chill crept down her spine. She took a step closer, lowering herself slightly. “What’s coming?” The boy flinched as if she had shouted. His breathing quickened. His little fingers dug into the bark of the bush. “Go inside,” he pleaded. “Please.” All of a sudden, her lips curled slowly into a devilish smirk. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by something dark, something hungry. Her eyes turned into a deep, unnatural red. The boy’s breath hitched. The boy’s tiny frame began to tremble. He had been wrong.

She was not the one to fear the night.

She was the night.

Jane is running late, moving with frantic energy as she rushes around her apartment. She grabs her bag with one hand and slips on her shoes with the other but just as she’s about to walk out the door, she catches her reflection in the mirror and stops dead in her tracks. Her hair doesn't look right. That wasn't how she did it this morning.

Her bag slips from her hand, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Her heart sinks as she steps closer to the mirror, adjusting a few strands. But as she fixes her hair, she notices something else—her skin. It looks awful today. Were those pores always that large? And her eyebrows—they seem so uneven, almost misshapen.

A wave of anxiety crashes over her. She moves closer, tilting her face at different angles, searching for confirmation that something is wrong. She pulls out her phone and snaps a selfie, zooming in, then another. Is it just the lighting? Or do her features look distorted today? Jane dabs her face with powder, smooths her eyebrows with her fingers, then starts over—wiping everything off and reapplying her makeup from scratch.

Minutes slip away as she picks apart every detail—her skin, her nose, the way her clothes fit. What started as a rushed morning has turned into thirty minutes of self-criticism. By the time she finally pulls herself away, she’s an hour late for work—for the fourth time this week.

But BDD isn’t just about mirrors…

Later that day, Jane finds herself fixated again—not on her reflection this time, but on the people around her. As a woman walks by, she thinks, Oh! Her skin is so fair. Another lady passes, and her next thought is, I wish I had skin as dark as hers. Jane doesn’t even realize she’s spending minutes silently analyzing strangers, comparing and critiquing. When one person passes she wishes she was slimmer and when another walks by, she wishes she had a curvier body. By the time she finally pulls herself out of the cycle, the damage is already done—she hates her body even more. And with each passing day, that self-hatred grows. She no longer feels comfortable in her own skin.

Have you heard of Body Dysmorphic Disorder?

If you haven’t, Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) or Body Dysmorphia is a mental health disorder where a person becomes obsessed about a flaw in his or her appearance. This flaw may be minor or imagined but the person may spend hours a day trying to fix it and some even go as far as trying many cosmetic procedures to change themselves. People with this disorder tend to frequently examine their appearance in a mirror, constantly compare their appearance with that of others, and avoid social situations or photos.

I'm not referring to people who ensure that they look good before they step out. The people in this case are very obsessed about how they look at all times and most times, are never comfortable in their skin. Most times they desire to look like another person and may even undergo procedures to achieve that.

Getting Rid Of Body Dysmorphia

1. Seeking Professional Therapy: Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) is a therapy method for treating BDD which usually includes a technique known as exposure and response prevention (ERP). This involves gradually facing situations that would normally make you think obsessively about your appearance and feel anxious. Another therapy method could be joining online and in-person BDD support groups which offer encouragement and coping strategies. Talking to others who understand can help reduce feelings of isolation, you can share experiences and even tips on how to get better.

2. Medications: Medications such as Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs)(SSRIs) are commonly prescribed for people with BDD. These include fluoxetine (Prozac) and sertraline (Zoloft) which help to manage obsessive thoughts and anxiety. It is only prescribed for people with moderate to severe cases where therapy alone isn’t enough.

3. Wear Comfortable, Non-Triggering Clothing: Avoiding clothes that make you focus on body parts you're self-conscious about can also help to control obsessive thoughts. You should dress in outfits that make you feel comfortable and confident, not just what’s trendy.

4. Engage in activities that boost self-worth: You could engage in hobbies, exercise, and activities that promote self-worth beyond appearance can be beneficial to limit mirror time and avoid excessive checking by setting time limits for looking in the mirror (e.g., no more than 5 minutes at a time). Getting rid of mirrors might be a bit extreme as you might still need to see if you look alright.

5. Avoid Social Media: You could also reduce social media exposure which is something that greatly helped me. Sometimes it’s just best to uninstall apps like Instagram, TikTok, and Snapchat but if you feel like you can’t do that, I suggest you unfollow accounts that trigger comparison or body dissatisfaction and limit time spent on these apps and instead follow body-positive or mental health advocates.

6. Mindfulness & Self-Care: This is the hardest but the best way to challenge Body Dysmorphia. Practicing self-compassion, mindfulness, and meditation can help reduce obsessive thoughts. You could get a journal to write down your intrusive thoughts and then counter them with rational, compassionate responses. For example, if you’re thinking “My nose looks horrible. Everyone must think I look weird”, you could always counter with “My appearance is just one part of who I am. People care more about my personality and how I treat them.” You could also practice deep breathing exercises when you feel anxious such as the ‘5-4-3-2-1 technique’ (Name 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you hear, 2 things you smell, and 1 thing you taste.)

   ---

What Jane doesn't realize…

She doesn't know that she's perfect the way she is.

She doesn’t know that she’s beautiful exactly as she is.

All she recognizes as flaws are her best features. She doesn’t see what others see. The things she wishes could change about herself are the things other people admire about her. Her hair is beautiful, short or long it brings out the shape of her face. Her nose is the perfect size, never too small and never too big. And when she smiles, it’s like she lights up an entire room. When we will she sees that she’s as beautiful as she thinks she is.

In Conclusion

If you’re just like Jane and you’re out there struggling with negative thoughts about your appearance, I just want you to know that you’re not alone. BDD is a serious but treatable condition. With the right support and mindset shifts, you can learn to love and accept yourself.

Remember:
❤You are more than your reflection.
❤ You are worthy beyond appearance.
❤ You deserve to be kind to yourself.

It’s time to see yourself the way the world sees you—beautiful, just as you are.

The Factors

Let’s start with the first, Psychological factors. A lot of these serial killers have been diagnosed with different mental disorders; Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) or sociopathy, Schizophrenia, Psychopathy, Borderline Personality Disorder, and Psychosis to mention a few. Psychopathy has been discovered to be the most common among them. Psychopathy is seen as a more extreme form of ASPD and even though it is not an official diagnosis in the DSM-5, it is studied extensively in forensic psychology. Psychopaths tend to exhibit traits such as; High intelligence and calculated behavior, lack of emotional depth or true interpersonal connection, inability to experience guilt or remorse, and manipulative tendencies, often with a charming facade. This is why psychopaths, like Dennis Rader (BTK Killer) and Ted Bundy, can function normally in society while secretly engaging in violent crimes.

Some of these killers claimed that they had an uncontrollable urge to kill. Studies have shown that violent criminals have abnormalities in their prefrontal cortex which is responsible for decision-making and impulse control. This is where the biological factor comes in, these abnormalities affect their impulse control and aggression. Additionally, it has been stated overactive amygdala leads to heightened aggression and lack of fear and that scans of convicted killers’ brains have revealed that there are differences from those of non-violent individuals.

Ed Kemper (also known as The Co-Ed Killer) had a severely abusive mother, which fueled his hatred toward women, so did Aileen Wuornos who claimed her grandfather sexually abused her leading to her violent crimes against men. Environmental factors such as early life experiences play a significant role in shaping serial killers. Experiences such as severe childhood abuse or neglect which could be physical, emotional, or sexual abuse, trauma from being bullied or treated as an outcast, and exposure to violence at a young age normalize aggression. For example, Jefferey Dahmer experienced severe neglect from his parents which led to deep feelings of abandonment. Due to these feelings, he kept the bodies of his victims, believing it would prevent him from feeling lonely. He also longed to exert control over them, to fulfill his desire to dominate without fear of rejection. Now, there were others who had special motives for their crimes. There were Hedonistic Killers who killed for pleasure, often enjoying the act itself (e.g., Jeffrey Dahmer, who killed for sexual gratification). The power/Control Killers killed to dominate and feel superior (e.g., Ted Bundy, who enjoyed controlling his victims). There are also the Visionary Killers who believed they were commanded to kill by voices or delusions (e.g., David Berkowitz – Son of Sam) and the Mission-Oriented Killers who believe they were “cleansing” society (e.g., Jack the Ripper, who targeted sex workers).

Now, after all these explanations you might be wondering, “Are you justifying serial killing?” No, I could never because amidst these factors, these people were aware of their actions and legally sane while they carried out these crimes. They carefully selected their victims such as Ted Bundy who only attacked women or Jack the Ripper who targeted prostitutes and they also made sure to carefully cover their tracks to avoid being caught. This suggests that, while they may have psychological abnormalities, they are mentally competent enough to strategize and evade capture.

Misconceptions About Serial Killers and Mental Disorders

There are also certain misconceptions about serial killers and mental disorders that I believe need to be corrected. First of all, not all serial killers are insane, and not all psychopaths are criminals as there are psychopaths who are lawyers, doctors, and in other respectable professions. Last but not least, the aforementioned mental disorders do not cause or produce serial killers. There are many people with these disorders living as normal human beings so living with a mental disorder doesn’t justify serial killing.

Final Thoughts: Born or Made?

As I come to the end of this newsletter, I can’t help but realize that the minds of serial killers will be forever difficult to understand because it is impossible to fathom how these people easily killed people without losing a night's sleep. They would even keep the dead bodies as “souvenirs” and perform abominable acts on them. I couldn't even kill a wall gecko without the feeling of disgust traveling through my body.

Ted Bundy was charming. Jeffrey Dahmer was quiet. Jack the Ripper was never caught. When I think deeper, I realize that there are people who grew up with the urge to kill. For example, Jeffery Dahmer was fascinated with dead animals and loved to preserve their bones in jars. Now this begs the question: Are Serial Killers Born or Made? What if they were all destined for darkness before their first crime? Were they born to kill, or did life push them into becoming monsters? The truth is, there’s no simple answer. Some are born with dark impulses, but without the right (or wrong) environment, they may never act on them. So, do we create our own villains, or are they always lurking in the shadows?

For a long time, I’ve never really liked myself. There was always something about me that ticked me off; sometimes it was, my body, my hair, my face or even my character. I even hated listening to my voice because I believed I sounded weird in recordings. One time, I deleted Instagram because it always made me feel insecure about myself. The funny thing is, I always get a lot of compliments (and this is not me being proud) but no matter how many times people complimented me, I never truly believed them. “They’re just being nice,” I’d tell myself.

For years, I let my self-worth be determined by outside opinions—grades, likes on social media, and how people responded to me. If someone praised me, I felt good for a moment. If someone criticized me, even slightly, I crumbled and it would linger in my mind for days. Sometimes I would deceive myself and say I didn’t care what they said to me but it always did. I always wanted people to like me. It took me a long time to realize that my self-esteem wasn’t just low; it was practically nonexistent.

Does this sound familiar? If so, you’re not alone.

Self-esteem is a strange thing. It’s invisible, yet it affects every part of our lives—how we see ourselves, how we interact with others, and even the risks we take (or avoid). Some people seem to have an unshakable sense of confidence, while others struggle to believe they deserve to take up space. But here’s the truth: self-esteem isn’t something you’re born with or without. It’s something you build. And just like a muscle, it grows stronger the more you work on it.

In this series, we’re diving into this thing called self-esteem—what shapes it, circumstances that could affect it, how it affects our mental health, and, most importantly, how we can start seeing ourselves in a better light.

This series would have 4 episodes which would include:

Episode 1 – "The Mirror Lies: Body Dysmorphia and Self-Worth"

In this episode, we will talk about how Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) distorts reality and fuels self-hatred. It plays a major role in warping self-image, making it even harder to see ourselves clearly. But the good news? There are ways to reframe the way you see yourself which will be extensively explored in this episode.

Episode 2 – "Starving for Perfection: Anorexia and Self-Esteem"

This episode covers the connection between eating disorders and self-worth. Anorexia, a disorder that is often overlooked, especially in this part of the world, has a devastating effect on a person’s self-esteem. This episode will dive into Anorexia, how it affects one’s mental health, and steps toward healing your relationship with food and body image.

Episode 3 – "Anxiety, Depression & the Self-Esteem Spiral"

Anxiety makes you doubt yourself and depression tends to fuel feelings of worthlessness. Depressed and anxious people seem to slowly lose confidence in themselves and this leads to a downward spiral in one’s self-esteem. But don't worry, ways to build confidence even in the darkest moments are a key part of this episode.

Episode 4 – "The Ghosts of the Past: Trauma & Self-Worth"

Childhood trauma, bullying, and toxic relationships greatly affect the self-esteem of a person. It's a hard feat to break free from past pain, it settles in one's mind and shapes a person's ideology and thinking. In this episode, we’ll explore how past wounds affect self-worth and, more importantly, ways to rebuild self-trust and resilience.

There are a lot of factors that affect a person’s self-esteem; childhood experiences and past trauma, social media comparisons, failures, and even the inner critic we find in ourselves. These things affect the way we think and see ourselves. Sometimes we don’t even recognize it but they find their way into our minds and make us develop ill-images about ourselves. We then start talking negatively about ourselves and doubt ourselves, and the worst of them, seeking validation from others and becoming a people pleaser. "Do you recognize any of these traits in yourself?

Low self-esteem takes a toll on a lot of us and then leads to anxiety and depression. Panic attacks set in and we even settle for/in toxic relationships because we believe we’re not worth being treated right. Some people even avoid taking risks and prefer to stay in the corner and never put themselves out there because of fear of rejection. In the honor of the month of self-esteem, this series will be dedicated to people who have low self-esteem. Tips and ways on how to overcome this and see ourselves who truly are will be shared.

If you fall under this category, I can’t wait to share my ideas and thoughts with you and my prayer is that you discover your worth. But if you’re so lucky to be so confident in yourself, there are people out there who question their self-worth 10,000 times a day. You might know them, or you might not. Please share this to them and don’t look down on them. See you next week!

DENIAL

I could see the tears building up in her eyes as she began to speak. “We were endgame, you know”, she started, her voice trembling. “We’d planned the perfect wedding, we’d have three children—two boys and a girl. The boys would be older so they could protect their little sister. It was the perfect plan. We were perfect for each other”.

Her eyes darted to the floor, searching for answers that weren’t there. “This can’t be real,” she whispered, almost to herself. “We had everything planned. People like us don’t just fall apart. He’ll come back. He has to.”

A single tear silently made its way down her face, it was obvious that the bottled-up feelings were threatening to spill over. “You know, he was my best friend and also my first love,” she said softly, her voice heavy with a mix of nostalgia and heartbreak. She let out a bitter laugh, one that carried more pain than humor. “He showed me what real love was, or at least, what I thought it was.”

Her gaze drifted as if she could see fragments of their memories playing out before her. “He wasn’t just my partner; he was my person. The one I could call at 2 a.m. because I couldn’t sleep. The one who’d bring me coffee on my worst days without me even asking. He made me feel seen... like I mattered in a way no one else ever had.”

“He told me he’d never leave me”, she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “I was so stupid to believe him. Relationships end all the time, but if two people are meant for each other, they always find their way back... right?”

ANGER

Her tone shifted abruptly, her sorrow boiling over into frustration. “How could he do this to me? After everything we built together, after all the promises we made?” Her fists clenched as her voice grew louder. “And then, he just moved on like I was nothing. Like we were nothing!”

She stood abruptly, pacing the room. “I gave him everything. My time, my love, my trust—everything! And he just... threw it away for her. Who is she, anyway? What does she have that I don’t?”

Her voice cracked as she shouted, “I hate him! I hate him for making me feel like this!” She paused at the center of the room and turned to me eyes blazing, “Because of him, I’m crying every night until my pillows are soaked. Because of him, I can’t think of anything, I can’t do anything”, she screams in one breath.

Her steps faltered, and she let out a shaky breath. “I should’ve known better. I should’ve never let myself get in too deep.”

BARGAINING

The fire in her eyes dimmed, and she sank back into the chair, her energy spent. “Maybe... maybe if I had done things differently, it wouldn’t have ended this way,” she murmured. “If I hadn’t pushed him so hard about the future, maybe he wouldn’t have felt trapped.” “I always whined about every little thing, I should have understood him when he said he was doing his best.”

Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, almost as if in prayer. “Maybe if I’d been more understanding, more patient, he would have stayed. I could’ve done better. I could’ve made him happy.” “If I wasn’t always asking for more, If I wasn’t petty about every little thing, it would have been more bearable”

Her eyes searched mine, desperate for reassurance, “Do you think... do you think there’s a chance he’ll come back? Maybe if I reach out, he’ll realize he made a mistake. Maybe he still loves me.”

DEPRESSION

A long silence followed. Her shoulders slumped, and her head hung low. “Who am I kidding?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“I should have never fallen in love with him”. “My friends warned me, they said he’d break my heart because he was the typical bad boy. But guess what, I never listened. I trusted him, I believed he would never hurt me.”

Tears spilled freely now, trailing down her cheeks in an endless stream. “It hurts so much. Every night, there’s this pain in my chest that won’t go away. It’s like I can’t breathe sometimes. Like there’s a weight pressing down on me, and I can’t push it off.” She placed a hand on her chest, as if trying to physically push the ache away. “Just help me get rid of it,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “I don’t want to feel this way again.”

She wiped at her face, but the tears kept coming. “How do you just stop loving someone? How do you go from being everything to being nothing?” Her voice broke as she added, “I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I feel... empty.”

ACCEPTANCE

Eventually, her tears slowed, and she exhaled a shaky breath. “I guess this is it,” she said softly. “I had seen this coming for a long time, but I kept trying to convince myself that it would never happen. I thought if I held on tightly enough, if I loved hard enough, things would go back to the way they were.”

She paused, her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve. “But then I saw him the other day with her, and it finally dawned on me that we’re really over. That the person I loved is gone—not because he’s changed, but because he’s chosen someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

Her lips quivered as she spoke, but her voice remained steady. “It was like a slap in the face, seeing them together. They looked... happy. Like we used to. And in that moment, I knew. I wasn’t part of his story anymore.”

She leaned back, her eyes distant but calmer now. “He’s moved on, and I need to, too. I’ll heal. It’ll take time, but I’ll get there. One day, I’ll look back at this and feel nothing but gratitude—for the lessons, for the love, and for finally learning how to let go.”

Her voice steadied as she finished, “I’ll be okay. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.”

Let's start from school. This year I saw shege in my academics. Bruh, e no easy at all. I keep on telling people that after my degree I'll need therapy because whatttt??? Honestly, you people should better be eating an apple a day because hmmm…. I won’t say more than that. A word is enough for the wise. But on a serious note, this was the most challenging year of my academic journey so far. I vividly remember feeling so overwhelmed before a test that I just resorted to watching TikTok the night before, completely clueless about what to read. I went into that test with an empty head, and the craziest part? I didn’t even care—I was just exhausted. This year tested me, but I made it through. I’ve promised myself that I won’t let school discourage me like this again. It’s me and this book next year, and na me go still win.

When it comes to my social life, friendships, and love. Love is a story for another day sha. This year was definitely a rollercoaster—I’ve really been through it. Honestly, I was very friendly—maybe even too friendly—and looking back, a part of me regrets it. I should have just minded my own business and kept my boundaries intact. Overfamiliarity truly breeds contempt, and I’ve learned that not everyone deserves the access I gave them. Next year, I’m choosing to be different—no more soft Chioma. It’s time to prioritize my peace and focus on myself. I’m learning that being kind doesn’t mean I have to let people take advantage of me. Boundaries are not just important; they’re necessary. So next year, I’ll be more intentional with my energy, only giving it to those who truly deserve it. Stone cold Chioma is loading, and honestly, I think she’ll be unstoppable.

I cried a lot this year, sometimes for reasons that felt silly and other times for reasons that were deeply valid. I was sad more often than I care to admit, and I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who reached out to me during my low moments. Even when I ghosted (which happened a lot), these amazing people didn’t give up on me. I owe you guys, OnG. This year was filled with so many pent-up emotions, but I’m letting all of that go today. I want to step into next year as the changed woman I know I can be.

Now, I’ve been talking about the negatives, but there are so many things I’m grateful for, too. For starters, I officially started writing this year—professionally, even! I never thought I’d reach this point, but here I am. And my people—yes, my people! I’ve always doubted if I had anyone I could truly call “my people,” but now I realize I do. Thank you for being my biggest supporters. I genuinely couldn’t have done it without you.

Even though it came later in the year, I started putting myself out there. I joined the editorial board in my school and even wrote an article for them (big win!). I joined a research club to fuel my interest in Research Pharmacy, and I started Tweeting this year! Funny enough, I’ve had that account since 2020, but I never really used it. Someone said it looked like a bot!😂 I made a lot of progress this year even though this year was trying for me. This year brought so much growth despite its challenges. I got a job, made amazing new friends, and even found God! And let’s not forget the 108 incredible people who thought my words were worth reading and subscribed here—thank you so much for supporting me.

I’m truly grateful for this year because it taught me invaluable lessons. Sure, there are things I regret doing, but they’ve become part of the experiences shaping me into a better person. I could go on, but I don’t want to write too much story. I’m so excited for what’s to come. Next year is going to be amazing, and I can already feel it. I’m looking toward to a better year and nothing is going to stop me from having a blast next year. I’m setting my goals and won’t stop until I achieve them. Next year will be so good and I can already feel it.

Now you, beautiful people, how was 2024 for you and what are you looking forward to in the new year?

**shege means trouble or hardship

Sometimes I make progress. I get so close to leaving this place, to finally being free. But the crazy thing is when I’m about to taste the surreal feeling of freedom, I’m pulled back into that never-ending black hole suffocating me and stealing the air from my lungs. This keeps happening, not once or twice, it has become a cycle. You’d think I’d have gotten used to the gut-wrenching pain I feel every time but no, it’s not easier. But it feels even worse. The pain of falling is often easier to handle when you're just starting to climb the ladder. But the pain of falling hits much harder when you've already made it halfway up.

You know what hurts more, is seeing others at the top. And no, it’s not jealousy—it’s pain. Pain that people I started with have moved on, climbed higher and made it out while I’m still stuck. Some of them didn’t even get to pass through this rough patch and were catapulted straight to the top. I keep wondering what I did wrong to be in this position or if there is something wrong with me. They’re all so happy with their lives, and I’m here trying to find peace with mine.,

There are days when I get tired of trying. So I give up because how do I keep making all these efforts, and I’m still here? Am I not doing my best? How do I keep going when every step forward is followed by two crushing steps back? Is it worth it? These questions haunt me. They echo in my mind, loud and unrelenting. And when I can’t find the answers, I feel even more lost. I lose all hope of leaving here and retreat into the dark to make myself comfortable in a place I clearly don’t belong.

There are other times when I feel like I might never make it out of here. I'm scared that I might be here forever and never see the light. So if that's eventually going to happen, why do I keep trying? There's no point then, I might just make a bed out of the sand and lie here. But I don't wanna be stuck here, I really want to leave. It's suffocating here and I'm slowly losing my mind. The voices in my head keep getting louder and there's so much noise around. I need some quiet. Can He help me already?

People say, “Keep pushing,” but they don’t understand. They don’t see the battles I’ve already fought, the wars I’m waging silently. The disappointments, the rejections, the heartbreaks I’ve been through. They never see it, the silent cries at night. My pillow, always wet with tears because I'm trying to muffle my cries. They never see me when I’m crying while clutching my chest because the pain is unbearable. And that’s fine with me because they would never be able to see how heartbroken I am, that’s not a good look on me.

But here’s the paradox: even when I give up, I don’t stop thinking about leaving. About escaping. About breaking free. And that tiny, stubborn part of me—the part that refuses to let go completely—keeps me tethered. It keeps me dreaming of a day when I’ll finally take one step forward and won’t be pulled back. So that’s why I will never stop trying, yes, I won’t stop trying to claw my way out of this hole into the bright light above. Oh yes, I see the light at night in my dreams, and it’s beautiful. I know that soon I’ll make it. I'll get out of here and tell my story. Then, I would show you all my scars with pride, proof of every battle I’ve fought and won, but for now, I’ll work harder to get myself out of here.

I may be stuck now, but this isn’t where my story ends. It's only a matter before I take a step forward never to be pulled back again.

I remember watching a video of a man who was being rescued from committing suicide. He was about to jump from a bridge but fortunately or “unfortunately” for him, two men were able to rescue him. You must be breathing a sigh of relief and saying thank God until you hear what happened next. These men who were “supposedly” his saviours started to beat him and the passersby stood and watched those men beat him and some even went as far as saying hurtful things to him too because they felt it was stupid of him to want to end his life. But did anyone just stop to think about what he must have been going through for him to decide to end his life? Do they know if he just lost his wife, or a child and couldn’t bear the loss? Or maybe he had just lost his job and is owing a huge amount of money or worse still, if all three had just befallen him.

We meet a lot of people everyday and most times we never really know what's going on in their lives. Many people are walking around with smiles on their faces yet their hearts ache and they are in so much pain on the inside. Sometimes I think that people who act the happiest carry the most sadness with them. You know, 'Fake it till you make it'. You’ll hear people say, "she was such a happy soul, how could she have taken her own life" or “how??? she was always smiling”. But smiling doesn’t cut it at all nor do those fake laughs. Ninety percent of smiles are even fake, what really matters is what is going on inside their heads and hearts. We’re always oblivious to the issues that plagued their minds. Committing suicide is never as easy as you think. Do you know the train of thoughts that led to that decision? The feeling of defeat, hopelessness and even shame they carry around. They’re just people standing in a long tunnel and can’t see the light at the end of it.

I'm not saying suicide is the best answer but let’s put it like this, I understand people who decide to end it. This life can be so hard honestly, it throws some tough challenges our way, with all its highs and lows. A lot of things just don't make sense. Today life is good and you’re feeling great and the next you’re feeling low and out of luck. Some don’t even get to experience good parts of life and are just plunged deeper and deeper into the dark waters. Just paint this scenario in your mind, you go swimming and suddenly you feel a force pulling you back into the water. You can’t seem to float or come up for air. The water slowly fills your lungs and you can’t breath anymore. You’re struggling to get to the top but your arms and legs are just flailing about but your efforts are just useless. That’s how suffocating life is for some people, yet you want to judge someone who is drowning for giving up the fight for their life when their efforts keep proving futile.

Okayyy, I think this newsletter is getting too deep and I’m starting to get teary. I really just wanted to write this newsletter to encourage anyone out there who feels like they’re drowning. Please keep fighting, love. There’s always a glimmer of hope whether it’s in this world or in Heaven. You might feel like there’s no use and there’s no reason to keep fighting but please do fight. It’s not easy I know. If you’re a student failing your courses, I want you to know that school is not the end of life. No education is worth taking your life for. Did you just lose a loved one and you feel like life has lost all meaning? I know nothing can bring the person back but I can assure you that life still has a lot of love to give you. You might not believe me but it’s true, I’ve seen it happen. Please don’t let your hope die, keep it alive. Hopelessness is really what leads to suicide.

On a final note, please check up on your friends. Those ones who suddenly switch off and go off the radar and when they come back give flimsy excuses and back it up with “I’m fine”. Please, they are not always “fine”. Even they push you off, just let them know you’re there for them. And if you’re the one who goes off the radar whenever you’re not “fine”, please try to talk to someone. Please talk to people YOU TRUST! Also in all you do remember Christ, your creator. Keep in mind that you can talk to Him about anything because He makes all boo-boos go away. He’s the best friend you can ever have. He listens at all times and cares for you, I promise you. Just put your trust in Him and you’re good!

So goodbye for now, my lovely readers. Can’t wait to share more of my thoughts with you! Ciao!

Ada takes off her bathrobe and enters the bathroom, where the soft glow of scented candles filled the space. The air was thick with the warm, calming scent of lavender and sandalwood. She always lit candles when she needed to relax—something about them eased the tension in her chest. After setting her favorite playlist in the background, the soft strumming of acoustic guitars washed over her. The perfect soundtrack for the end of a long, hard day. Slipping into the warm water of the bathtub, she felt her body begin to sink deeper into the comfort of the moment. The soothing heat wraps around her, loosening the knots in her muscles, but her mind, as always, wanders back to the past.

Things started to fall apart when her mother died when she was just 15. Being an only child with a busy father and a stay-at-home mother, she had always clung to her mom. They were inseparable, more like best friends than mother and daughter. She was too shy to make friends with kids at school and no one really cared for her at school. But that never bothered because she had her mom.

Until she didn’t.

Her mother had given birth to her out of wedlock before marrying Ada’s father. His family never accepted her mother, convinced that she had trapped their only heir with a child. They treated her with disdain, which only grew as her mother couldn’t bear a male child or even any child at all. She had barely even survived after giving birth to Ada and was advised against trying again by the doctors. Her mother tried, enduring the whispers, the judgment, and the isolation, but the pain slowly ate away at her. Ada could still vividly remember the day she came home to find her mother gone. She had rushed in, clutching her report card filled with straight A's, excited to show her. But something had felt off. Her father’s car was parked outside, an unusual sight, and the house was eerily quiet. Too quiet. Not a single person was in sight—not the driver, not the gardener, not even the housekeeper. She had called out for her mother, her voice trembling. No answer.

Hours passed before her father finally returned, his face ashen, his eyes red and swollen. That was when she learned her mother had taken her own life out of depression. Ada never forgave her father for it. He had never stood up for her mother when his family tore her down. He let her suffer, and in the end, he let her die. Worse still, three months later, he married another woman, as if her mother had been easily replaceable. The new wife was indifferent. She didn’t mistreat Ada, but she didn’t care either. So Ada spent most of her time locked in her room, shutting herself off from the world.

The bathwater rippled as Ada shifted, her body slipping further under the surface. She closed her eyes, her mind replaying the spiral that followed. Her teenage years were a blur of loneliness and pain. She had craved attention, validation—anything to make her feel like she mattered. Unfortunately, there was no one to give it to her. Her father was never around and her mother’s death only pushed him out the more. And her stepmother, well, she simply didn’t care. That’s when Mr. Kelvin had come into her life. He was the new computer teacher, and at first, he seemed like a godsend—someone who finally paid attention to her. In the guise of comforting her, he took advantage of her in her vulnerable state. He told her she was special, that she was worth something. She thought she had finally found love. Love, my foot, she thinks to herself, but well she was young and stupid. Slowly, he weaved his way into her life, offering her comfort, a shoulder to cry on. But it wasn’t long before his intentions became clear.

It started with innocent touches—a hand on her arm, a brush of her cheek. Soon, those touches grew bolder, darker. After school, she would go with him to his place since she hated going home. He made her feel wanted in ways no one else ever had. She was young and desperate for love, and she mistook his manipulation for affection. When the blackmail began, she was blindsided. He wanted 1.5 million naira, threatening to expose their relationship. Her father would never give her that kind of money and she couldn’t dare ask him. The money wasn’t even the problem but how she would get the money from her father. She was given 2 weeks to come up with the money or be exposed.

Soon her time was up and he threatened to send the evidence to her father. And true to his words, he sent the photos to her father. The fallout was immediate and brutal. Her father’s rage was terrifying. She remembered him barging into her room, screaming obscenities, his face twisted in anger. She had never seen him like that before. After ensuring the pictures were destroyed and paying off Mr. Kelvin, her father had transferred her to a new school. But the damage was done, Ada was already heartbroken and felt betrayed, if she wasn’t already in a shell, she definitely felt like she was in one.

Ada shut everyone out—until she met Blessing. Blessing was everything Ada wasn’t—joyful, radiant, and carefree. She had a loving family, and her presence brought light into Ada’s dark world. For the first time in years, Ada felt like she had someone who cared about her. They became inseparable, and Ada felt like she finally had a reason to wake up in the morning. Their friendship grew stronger with every passing day and things started to look up for Ada. She now had someone on her side who cared for her. She would rather spend holidays at Blessing’s house than go to hers. Her father didn’t even bother with her as long as she stayed out of trouble. But the universe wasn’t done taking from her yet.

Now in the university, she and Blessing had been returning from a party when they got into an accident. Shivers run down Ada’s spine as she recalls the accident like it just happened yesterday. The accident was Ada’s fault. She had been driving, distracted, when the car collided with another. Everything suddenly went black and Ada found herself on a bridge— and she could hear Blessing’s voice calling out to her to join her on the brighter side but the fog wouldn’t let her see her face. She tried going towards the direction of the voice but she could feel a force pulling her back to the other side. It felt like a dream until she heard someone calling out to her asking if she was okay.

When she regained consciousness, she was surrounded by strangers, voices calling out to her, but all she could see was Blessing’s lifeless body beside her. The horror of that moment still haunted her. She had killed her best friend. They kept calling out to her but no matter how much she tried to speak, her words were stuck in her throat. As she was being rescued, she tried pulling Blessing with her but she wouldn’t move. She finally realized that Blessing was already dead and with that realization, a searing pain went through her heart. Why couldn’t she have died along with her. God really hated her huh? She was still stuck in this stupid life, without her mum, and now without Blessing.

Her dad was of no good at this point as there was little to no relationship between them. Few weeks later, Blessing was laid to rest. She still couldn’t speak and couldn’t tell her best friend goodbye. She was the reason Blessing died, after all she was the one who suggested they go to the party even though Blessing wasn’t comfortable with it. She was the one driving, she was the one not looking and everything was her fault. The memory tightened around her chest as the water in the tub sloshed over the edge. The warm bath that had once brought comfort now felt suffocating.

A month passed before she regained her voice while screaming in a nightmare. Her father soon sent her back to school after she regained her voice. But Ada refused to attend classes and laid in bed all day. She rarely ate or even slept with the nightmares plaguing her and slowly started to become a shell of herself. After missing almost half the semester and refusing to write exams, it was no surprise she had failed all courses. As Ada’s nightmares worsened, she realized she couldn’t stay in the room she had shared with Blessing anymore and so took a few of her things and left. After being recommended some sleeping medications to take, she was finally able to get some sleep. But it wasn’t enough, she needed something to numb the pain in her chest. The nightmares, the guilt, the emptiness—it all festered inside her. She turned to drugs, searching for something—anything—that could numb the pain. Soon she met Deji, a drug dealer through a friend who became her lifeline. She bought anything, heroin, pills, anything to make the darkness go away. It didn’t work, of course. Nothing ever did. She kept on plunging into a deep darkness which filled her life and heart.

Her father sent her to rehab, desperate to salvage what was left of her, but it was too late. Even when she was released, she had only become a hollow shell of her former self. She was then sent her to continue her studies abroad to fulfill the lie of her father. He had told everyone that she had gone abroad to finish her studies after the accident to protect his reputation. He never cared how she felt and only did what was best for him. Now, there’s nothing left inside her but regret and sorrow. Everyone she’d loved had been taken from her and she was all alone. Her mum was gone, she had been used by Mr. Kelvin and now Blessing was gone. There was no reason to be alive anymore. She was basically a zombie, living life with no purpose.

Now, sitting in the tub, Ada feels her body growing heavier. She reaches for the syringe on the edge of the bathtub, her hand trembling slightly. It’s full of heroin—a dose strong enough to ensure she wouldn’t wake up ever again. Her fingers tightens around it as she slids the needle into her skin. No one would miss her, her father was happy with his new family and didn’t need her anymore. She had no friends back home or even here so what was she waiting for? The liquid warmth spreads through her veins, a strange sense of peace washing over her. She slowly starts to lose control of her senses and lets her body slip deeper into the water. Suddenly she can’t breathe anymore. She tries to come up for air but she can’t. As Ada slips deeper into unconsciousness, the world around her begins to fade—the candles, the water, the muted music in the background—everything starts to blur into a distant hum. The pain in her chest, the suffocating heaviness of life that had once anchored her down, feels like it’s lifting. She can no longer hear the thoughts that used to torment her.

As Ada’s senses fades, she finds herself back on the bridge. But this time, it’s different. The fog has lifted, revealing her mother and Blessing standing together on the other side, their faces lit with a warm, golden glow. Her mother reaches out to her, her voice soft and full of love. There is no noise, only stillness. A quiet so profound that it almost feels comforting. She no longer fights to breathe; her body surrenders, releasing the pain, the guilt, and the sorrow. Slowly, she begins to feel lighter as her consciousness drifts away from the physical world.

Her mother reaches out, her eyes filled with love and a peace that Ada had never seen before. “Come, my child,” she says in a voice that is soothing and familiar, like a lullaby Ada had long forgotten. Blessing stands beside her, her face radiant with joy, calling out, “I’ve been waiting for you. It’s okay now, Ada. Everything’s okay”. Ada steps forward, and this time, there’s nothing holding her back. No force pulling her to the other side. No pain, no guilt, no shame. With each step, she feels the weight of her old life falling away. She is no longer the broken girl filled with regret and despair. Here, she feels whole again.

As she nears the end of the bridge, she looks back for a final moment. The other side, the one she had struggled on for so long, seems so distant now, almost unreal. The loneliness, the trauma, the battles she fought alone—it all feels like a faint memory. A soft breeze brushes against her face, carrying with it a sense of closure. Ada takes the final step and is enveloped in her mother’s arms. She can feel the warmth, the love that she had longed for since the day her mother left. Tears well in her eyes, but this time they are not tears of pain. They are of release. Of relief. Blessing embraces her too, the joy on her face mirroring Ada’s own. “We’re together now,” Blessing says. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

And just like that, Ada’s suffering is gone. In this new world, she is surrounded by the love she thought she had lost forever. She is no longer the girl who felt abandoned, betrayed, or unwanted. Here, with her mother and Blessing, there are no more nightmares. Only light. Only peace. The three of them walk together towards the bright horizon, their laughter echoing through the air as they disappear into the golden light. Ada knows now that she has found her place, where pain and sorrow cannot reach her.

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Most of us talk about having alter egos and claim that we have different personalities. We even blame the things that we do on them saying “it’s not me, it’s my alter ego” or “when I’m outside I’m a different person, that’s my alter ego”. I know we’ve all heard things like that or even say it, but what of when it’s real and there is really an alter ego? The person switches into another personality and can’t even control it. Whatever the alter ego does is unaware to the person and can’t even remember what happens while that personality is in control. This is actually a mental disorder called DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder.

Dissociative Identity Disorder is a mental health condition where a person possesses two or more separate identities. These identities or alters as it is usually called, tend to have different names, behaviors, gender and even a unique personal history. They are usually nothing like the person who has the disorder.

How does DID work? When the identities of DID patients switch, they tend to have no recollection of what happened when their alters take control of them. That being said, a major symptom of DID is amnesia because a lot of gaps are created in the memory of the person when these alters take control. Finding it hard to understand what I mean? Just look at it from this angle: the patients are usually being possessed by their alters and sometimes do things they normally won't do. Still seems unbelievable yeah? It took me a while to even come to terms with it because it seemed unreal.

Watching movies like Crowded Room, Split, The Three Faces of Eve and Sybil gave me a better understanding. I went to YouTube and Google trying to research the authenticity of this disorder and I found it to be real.

The first person to be diagnosed with DID was Billy Milligan. According to Wikipedia, he was born to Dorothy and Jim Morrison on the 14th of February, 1955. His father committed suicide when he was just 4 years old and his mother remarried his step father Chalmer Milligan who adopted him and his two other siblings. According to the testimony of him and his mother, it was said that his stepfather brutally abused him physically and sexually and would try to bury him alive and hang him by hands and toes. Unfortunately, it was never proven because Chalmer denied these allegations. As a coping mechanism for the trauma caused by this abuse, his mind created 10 other personalities to shield him from the pain and distress. He was arrested after being convicted of kidnapping and raping people from the campus of Ohio State University but his lawyer was able to prove his condition in court so he was admitted to an asylum where he developed 14 more alters. The movie Crowded Room was made based on his story but is not an accurate representation. For more information, you can check:

• Wikipedia on Billy Milligan

• www.esquire.com

Another person reported to have had DID is Shirley Ardell Mason who was given a pen name of Sybil Isabel Dorsett to protect her identity. Sybil or Shirley was an only child born on the 25th of January, 1923. When Shirley was just a young girl, she was being abused by her mother who was reported to be diagnosed with schizophrenia. She started taking psychotherapy sessions with Dr. Wilbur who helped to diagnose her condition. Shirley's trauma was usually triggered by dishtowels because her mother always tied her up with dishtowels. She would also lock her in a box, kick her down the stairs and according to the movie Sybil, would pour water down her vagina. She would then play the piano, something Shirley enjoyed doing which made Shirley hate the piano. The alters Shirley's mind created were able to play the piano and paint, things that she wasn't able to do on her own. There are more cases but I will just stop at this two. For more information, visit the websites below:

• Wikipedia on Sybil

• They Call Her Sybil

DID is a chronic disorder which tends to last for years or throughout a person's lifespan. DID usually starts to develop when the patients are kids but it is rarely diagnosed in children. And as they grow, the disorder grows with them and makes it difficult for them to get help when they're adults. DID is usually caused by severe trauma experienced in childhood such as physical, sexual or emotional abuse or neglect. Their mind then develops multiple identities or personalities as a coping mechanism in response to trauma.

When the alters take control, it is called Switching and when this occurs, everything the alter does is not known to the person. Sometimes, the person might wake up and find their selves in places they do not recall going or seeing things they don't remember buying. In the movie Sybil, she had a 2 year gap in her memory as a result of switching of alters. They usually cannot control the switch which usually occurs when their trauma is triggered. The alters could be a different gender, could have a different nationality, religion and even do things that the person is not even capable of doing.

There are different kinds of alters a person can possess, some examples include: APN (Apparently Normal Part), Avenger alters, Infant alters, Persecutors, Caretaker, Ancestor alter, Core alter Perpetrator alters, Animal alters, Fragment, Parts of the opposite sex, Protective alter, Protector, Suicidal parts, Child alters/Littles, Non-human alter, Teen alter, Twin alters and so many more. Some, if not all these alters are usually present in DID patients and all play different roles in their lives. The Littles or Teen alters are their childhood or teenage parts trapped in them and Suicidal alters are the ones with suicidal thoughts and usually push the person's to kill themselves, an example is Marcia which was an alter of Sybil. The Protectors try to protect the persons and manage their hurt and pain. In Crowded Room, Danny Sullivan first alter was a twin alter, Adam which he claimed had died when they were kids. He believed it was his twin brother that his stepfather sexually abused instead of him. Avenger alters tend to harbor the pain and hurt that they have been through.

For example, in the Crowded Room where Danny Sullivan was played by the actor Tom Holland who was a DID patient, one of his alters was a strong Isreali guy, Yitzhak who came out only when he was in danger to protect him. When he switched to this alter, he took the accent of a Isreali and the strength of a very buff guy. For more information on kinds of alters, refer to: http://traumadissociation.com/alters

DID patients are still humans and are just sick mentally as one's body can get sick. This doesn't mean that they are crazy and should not be discriminated or pushed away. They are just people who have been hurt but had no way of expressing their pain. One major way of treating DID patients is through Family and Talk Therapy. The first step is to make them aware of their condition and help the patients come to terms with the alters present. It is important that the patients identify and try to work through past trauma. With treatment, DID patients are able to manage DID and live their life. It is very possible for them to take control of their minds. They also need to be shown love and care to overshadow the pain they’ve been through.

On a final note, DID can be generally prevented when we show each other love and care. Parents should learn to watch out for their children and be their best friends. It's important that they should make sure they are aware of what goes on in the lives of their children. they should make sure they are not being bullied, abused or maltreated. The parents should also love their children and not abuse them, physically, emotionally or even sexually. We should also learn to show children we see around us love. Children’s minds are very young and very fragile so they have to be nurtured carefully. Not only children deserve love though, we all deserve to be loved and cared for.

So with these few words of mine, I bring this post to a close. Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me. Please like and subscribe. Thank You!❤️

We hate feeling alienated; many of us even feel this way in our friend groups. Maybe you're a group of four friends, but the other three seem to do a lot without you, sharing inside jokes and excluding you from their activities. You might be together, but you just feel lost in their conversations and slowly cast aside. You withdraw because you hate feeling alone and then wonder if you're the problem.

Sometimes, it could be a new person coming into the group, and you start to feel replaced, as if your presence no longer matters.

When you decide to confront them to understand why, they lie and make excuses. Then that feeling of hurt and betrayal starts to set in. And if it's a case of being replaced by another person, hatred develops in your heart for them.

Sometimes we refuse to leave the group because we know we don't want to be alone. We prefer to be part of a "clique" and so we stick around and endure this punishment. Yes, punishment, because slowly we start to lose our self esteem and our joy in friendships that we've built. We start feeling hurt and unhappy because the people we believe to be our friends are pushing us away.

Some people become scarred by this, leading them to avoid group friendships altogether and then prefer being on their own.

Maybe some of you reading can relate to what I'm saying and have found yourself in cases like this.

Sometimes, it's because we haven't yet found our niche— a place where we truly belong and don't feel like outsiders. I believe that we could later find friendships along the way wherein we feel genuinely loved and appreciated.

Finding peace in solitude is also important. You don't have to be part of a group to feel valued. I believe that you can also find joy and comfort in being alone. And no, I'm not advocating loneliness but I just want you to be happy whenever you're alone. Embrace who you are and find peace within yourself.

Whenever you feel you're no longer welcome in a place or in a group, please walk away. Your sanity is more important than any friendship. Don't beg to stay or try to change yourself to fit into the group.

You deserve to feel valued, whether in a group or on your own. Like Rihanna said, 'shine bright like a diamond'. Don't let anyone dull your shine, just be your own person.

Well, this just crossed my mind today and I thought I'd share with you guys. See you in the next post! Love and Light!

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I can't believe I'm doing this again— writing. The last time I wrote anything was probably in SS2. I remember some of my classmates always encouraged me to finish my stories but I was too lazy to continue them and I blame it on writer's block.

Writing has always seemed stressful to me because you have to think (which, let's be honest, many people struggle with... I wonder who you're thinking of now😂). Thinking shouldn't be hard, but it often is because you have to consider carefully what you want to say—like I'm doing now. Then you sit down to pen your thoughts, look for the right words to express yourself, edit those words, check for grammar and misspellings, proofread, and by the time you're done with all this, you wonder if it's really worth it. And for people like me who get easily discouraged you've lost me at the stage of penning down those thoughts I have.😪

I’ve always wanted to write something and publish but I keep postponing because I'm incredibly lazy (like just think of the laziest person you know and multiply that by 10 or 100 and that's me… okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but you get the point—I'm lazy).

So why am I writing now, you ask? It's not that I've miraculously stopped being lazy🤭…it's just that I'm trying to build a writing portfolio because I'm looking for a job as a content writer and no one wants to employ someone who doesn't have something to show for it. So please, read my newsletter, like, comment, and subscribe. Your support might help me get noticed and land a job!😭

As I stated in my ‘about’, this space will be dedicated to my thoughts for you guys to read (I think a lot so get ready to read a lott!!!). So whenever my thoughts overwhelm me and I feel like pouring them out, you guys will be the first to know. These thoughts will be under the section 'ChyomahSpeaks.'

I'll also be writing about mental health, a topic I'm really invested in. I feel like people aren't talking about their feelings enough, y'know? I, myself, don't even talk about my feelings enough and in this part of the world where mental health is not being talked about enough, I want to be one of those who speak up for mental health. I believe that as much as the body can be sick, the mind can also get sick and I'm not just talking about people going mad.

Mental health is more than that. So whenever I have topics on mental health, you'll find these posts under the section 'Matters of The Mind.'

Then lastly, I'm a pharmacist in training, currently studying Pharmacy in the University of Lagos. And when I'm done, I intend to become a Pharmaceutical Researcher after I graduate and make mind-blowing research and make a name for myself in the pharmaceutical field (then maybe one day, students will be learning about me making innovations like Albert Einstein and his friends did). Hopefully, I'll even get awards for my research (wouldn't that be a lovely sight🤭… me up on a big stage with people clapping and smiling at me). So yeah, you get the dream.

So I'm starting now, making small researches, and posting them under the section 'HealthTalks’.

And with that, we've reached the end of today's letter. I hope you enjoy reading my newsletter. Stay tuned for more content coming your way this week on 'ChyomahSpeaks'!

…coming soon

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