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Editor’s note: Last week, Jumoke* sent me a message on Twitter saying she had a story for me. We had a conversation and here’s what she told me:
My dad was physically abusive to us growing up. There was a time he stripped my mum naked and pushed her out at night. Another time, he gave her a black eye. The area around the eye is still black to date. I’m not saying my mum didn’t have her own issues but my dad was worse. My mum paid the bills while my dad preferred to spend money on his second wife and his friends. Both of them beat us for any offence we committed. My dad would strip us naked and beat us. I used to tell people they were not my real parents, and that I was adopted.
When I was 5, the rent at the house we lived in expired so my parents decided to move into their own house which was still under construction. They felt it wasn’t safe for us to stay in an uncompleted building so they took us to live with our grandparents for a while. There, my uncles always had visitors over. One of them was a man named Tawfiq* — he lived on the same street as us. Whenever my uncles wanted to go out, they would leave me at his house. Tawfiq would take me to the uncompleted part of the building and make me do things to him. Sometimes he would make me suck his penis. At other times, he would rub it on my labia. He would finger me and do other things that I shouldn’t have known at that age. Afterwards, he would threaten to beat me if I ever told anyone. Beatings were regular — I knew I would definitely get beaten if I reported it, so it continued for months.
My father took a second wife when I was in JS 3. He would send me to her house to help with housework, and she would use me like a rag. Eventually, my parents decided to split and we had to pick whom we wanted to stay with. I picked my mum and my dad promptly disowned me. When I was about to enter the university, my mum introduced me to the Dean of student affairs in my school. He was my mentor — I even called him daddy. One time I was having issues at school and my mum fought me a lot about it. She reported me to the dean and he asked me to come and see him in Osogbo where he lived. He picked me up from the park and he was talking about school and what my mum had told him so I was relaxed. He said he wanted us to have privacy as he had guests at home so he drove us to a guest house. I didn’t even think of how he knew the gateman’s name, and how the front desk person had set up his usual room for him. He was a father figure to me. There was no need to suspect anything. Anyway, he raped me. I begged him. I reminded him that I am his son’s age and classmate. When I threatened to scream, he laughed. After struggling for a while, I gave up and let him have his way. I just stayed there and stared at the ceiling thinking about Tawfiq. When he finished, he said he didn’t know I was a virgin because I looked like a big girl. I cleaned up and went back to school.
I knew nobody would believe me. After all, I went with him to the guest house. I tried to tell someone about it and she said it wasn’t possible, “He doesn’t need to do that to get girls to sleep with him.” When I told my mum, she asked what I was wearing. Nobody gave me the support I needed, so the rest of my stay at the university was a blur. I sought solace in drinking and eating heavily. I told myself that if I looked unattractive enough, then no one would want to abuse me. I used to say, “People will betray you but food won’t.” I could count on filling my stomach to make me feel better. After eating, I would feel bad because I had eaten so much, then I would eat some more to comfort myself.
Of course, it didn’t work. I tried to kill myself but that didn’t work either. Sometime in 2020, there was an uproar on social media about sexual abuse. There was a protest happening at the time. I remember waking up one morning to see a picture of Tawfiq and his daughter on Instagram. He and his family live abroad. He looked like he was balling, and the only thing I could think about was how karma is all a big lie. He is living his best life and I am here, stuck with nightmares and a shitty mental health. I messaged him and confronted him about what he did to me as a child. Though he admitted to it, he said he wasn’t that much older than me when it happened. I was so angry, I sent the screenshots to my extended family’s WhatsApp group. I wrote an epistle about how they needed to create an enabling environment for kids in the family to report abuse. One of my uncles kept talking about how he would kill Tawfiq. I knew it was fake outrage because when my cousin said she was also molested as a child by one of our uncles, everybody kept quiet. I messaged her privately and she told me the whole story. He would tell lies to get her beaten whenever he sensed that she was about to report him, to prove to her that his word would always be taken over hers.
As we were talking, one of my uncles called and accused her of trying to scatter the family. He said she should bring evidence that she was molested 20 years ago. I was so pissed I left the family group chat and I’m glad I never went back because she told me they made her apologize to him. Last month, he was at a family gathering and it was as if nothing had happened. The men in my life failed me but food never did.
Currently, I am tired of living. What’s the point of existing? If I was dead, none of this would have happened to me. These days, I wake up because I have to and get through the day with no desire to do anything else. I’m not suicidal but if I get a chance to die, I’d take it.
Living with a mental health condition affects different parts of our lives in many ways. In this article, we asked Nigerian women how their mental health affects their romantic relationships. Here’s what 11 of them had to say:
Bisola, 24
I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety in 2017. Since then, my relationships have never been the same. My partners complain about me not being present. Whenever I get sad, it helps me to disassociate from everything until I can’t anymore but it’s hard to keep relationships like that. Most people can’t stay till I come out and that sends me into another spiral. I don’t blame them though — no one wants an emotionally unavailable partner. It’s hard to show you’re in love when you feel empty inside. Everyone wants a partner who’ll meet them halfway but I don’t even have 50% to give myself talk more of to give another person. My last relationship just ended because of the same reason.
Tomi, 23
In 2017, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder. This means that I fluctuate between mania and catatonia. As a result, I tend to ghost people because interacting can be quite hard for me sometimes. Before I would disappear without saying anything but it’s been frustrating for people in my life. Everyone wants to be that person everyone knows they can always talk to — to be a safe space, but the reality of it is when people see you in a manic phase about to cut yourself, they realize it’s not just love and light. That’s when most people realize they can’t deal with it anymore and they check out. My last relationship ended because they saw me trying to cut myself, and within a week, we were over.
Ivie, 26
I live with chronic depression, which means I am often suicidal. Whenever I get a terrible depressive episode, I want to hide from the world and this makes being in relationships harder than usual. I try to talk about it with my partners but they don’t understand. They always think I should be able to snap out of it and be happy. I try to perform happiness even on my worst days because I don’t want to ruin things but that only makes me resentful.
Living with chronic depression also means that sometimes when things are going great with a guy I like, I get worried that he will run away from me because of my mental illness. So I run before he runs. I tell myself that it’s for the best and I won’t get hurt, but it still hurts. Knowing I might never be able to have love is one of the most painful things I have had to live with.
Aima, 30
I live with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. I have known this for about a year now. I am a doctor and one day at work, I was complaining to a colleague that I was depressed. I was suicidal even though I didn’t think I had any reason to be. Work and my ageing parents were the only things keeping me going. She asked a few questions and asked me to observe when I feel better and when my mood dips. I did that and I realized that almost like clockwork I start feeling low for no reason about a week to my period and for the whole duration of it. It turned out that it is actually a medical condition that is commonly missed in patients but thanks to my colleague we had a diagnosis.
Knowing doesn’t make it easier though. I hate my antidepressants because it makes it difficult for me to function at work so I tend to skip them. I get irritable around my period and I snap at my fiance — sometimes I don’t want to speak to him. Initially, we fought a lot because he would get frustrated with me when his efforts to make me happy failed — buying food, sending money, cracking a joke, etc. Recently, I explained to him that I feel like I’m not in control of my life for those 10-13 days every month and he would have to be patient with me. Also, I let him know when it gets bad so when I’m crying, he knows how to support me. Last week, I discussed feeling suicidal with him and he didn’t judge or ask unnecessary questions. He reaffirmed his love and stayed on the phone with me until I slept off. When it gets bad, I take my antidepressants in the evening. Every month is a different journey but having a supportive partner and knowing what’s happening to me makes it bearable. The upside is knowing it lasts a few days and I’ll get a break.
I never know when to disclose this information to someone new — I don’t want to scare the person away. A lot of people don’t understand it so after I tell them, they start to pull away and I can’t blame them. Then there are the ones that want to change me — they think if I were more positive, I’d be fine.
When I had depressive episodes in a relationship, it was hard to manage it without making the other person feel like they are the problem. I also have to help them understand that they are not responsible for my moods. Sex triggers me so I always have to explain that. Most of the people I have been with have been gracious during the sex but they usually come back to ask questions, wondering if they caused it. It can get stressful for me.
Vowhero, 33
I wouldn’t say I have a mental illness but I have trauma that keeps replaying in my head and makes me push the people I love away. Sometimes I can smell the first person that molested me. I was 6 when it happened. I have also been raped three times so sometimes when I am having sex with someone I love, I get triggered by their movements or their smell. People don’t understand that when my mood switches to fear, I would want to distance myself from them.
Sometimes, I wake up crying from a horrible dream or screaming until the person beside me wakes me up. My ex broke up with me because of that — he said I was too dramatic. I also don’t cuddle my lovers as much as I would like. After sex, I leave the room because I can’t have body contact yet. Some days are good and I don’t experience all of this but on other days, it can be difficult. I have seen a therapist and I think there has been an improvement so far. I am still scared of enjoying a good time though, but I hope that changes soon.
I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because of a traumatic childhood. In 2019, I was in the only relationship I have ever been in. I was quite insecure — I had low self-esteem and chronic mood swings. My ex made everything worse by emotionally abusing me. He would never compliment means it triggered my insecurity. One time, he told me he has dated more light-skinned women than dark-skinned women. It hurt because I am a dark-skinned woman. I didn’t love myself enough to walk away from it. I used to check his phone and I was also clingy. After we broke up, I realized I was too insecure to be in a relationship. My ex was a shitty person but if I was healthy, I wouldn’t have even dated him. I believed no one could love me because there was no affection in the home I grew up in. I was so desperate for him to love me that when he cheated on me, I went back to him. I went to therapy earlier this year and it has helped me realize a lot of things so I know I am getting better.
Zainab, 31
I live with severe depression and I distance myself whenever I have episodes. Although this makes my lover feel weird, he understands and gives me space but I know it bothers him. My ex-boyfriend called it mood swings and I broke up with him immediately. When I am experiencing a depressive episode, I start thinking the absolute worst and I say things like, “don’t be too sad if I go.” My boyfriend gets worried but when I feel better, I reassure him that I’m okay. I am also seeking help so I know I will be fine.
Farida, 25
I was diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder and the thing about this illness is that everything makes me worry. I found out this year and everything started to make sense. I realized why I could never fully open up to anyone or allow myself to fall in love because of that lurking “what if” thought. It’s a struggle, especially when you’re a hopeless romantic like me.
After six years since my first heartbreak, I finally let myself fall in love again but it’s difficult when my mind keeps giving me reasons why the relationship should end. Every day I am in a battle with myself — I remind myself that this man is good for me and my fears are irrational. The most difficult part is that my partner doesn’t know about my disorder. He encourages me to talk about any worries I have and that causes me to worry too — what if he gets tired of listening to my worries? I am not comfortable talking about it yet. It’s one thing to say, “I’m worried about something” and another to say, “I have a thinking disorder.”
When I go to his house, I have to hide to take my drugs because I’m not ready for the conversation. I am afraid of what he will think of me when I tell him. I find it difficult to express myself the way I want because I keep thinking that he may realise that I am a fraud and I lack confidence. When we’re having sex, I can’t have an orgasm because I am wondering if I smell good or if he likes what he sees or if he actually enjoying or just faking it. It’s a never-ending loop and I really wish it would stop but even therapy doesn’t help. The only way is to end this beautiful relationship of mine.
Onyinye, 28
I have been sad for a long time. When I was in university, I went to therapy but I don’t think it helped. In my service year, when I had started working, sadness became worse. I would cry for hours and some days I want to be in bed all day. My relationship at the time was two years old and it was all fights and arguments. We tried until 2018 when I started self-harming and I had to seek professional help. I started therapy and medication but my ex wasn’t getting better in his attitude. To make things worse, my sexual desires died — we would have sex and I won’t feel a thing. Some days, I would get into depressive episodes that would make me stay in bed all day and he wouldn’t call to check on me. Sometimes he’d say I enjoyed being depressed and that I use my depression for attention. Eventually, I found out he was cheating with his friend but he was convinced I was the one cheating. When the relationship ended, I realized he was a big trigger and slowly my drug doses were reduced.
I have tried to date again but the truth is not a lot of people want to do the work to help you through it. Everyone starts off saying they understand but after one or two episodes, they switch up. Also, my libido is still low — I am hardly ever interested in sex and most men don’t understand that.
Amarachi, 28
I was diagnosed with chronic Anxiety, Attention Deficit Disorder and bipolar depression eight years ago. I have been to a number of mental health hospitals in the US and I also went to rehab. After I got out of long term mental health care, I started talking to my present boyfriend. He does not express emotions with words and I did not want to date him in the beginning because I was still trying to adjust to a lot of medication but these days, he is more compassionate. He understands how anxiety can make me seem self-absorbed. He is also African and he wasn’t raised to understand these things so we learn together.
When we first started reconnecting, I had to go back to another institution because I was suicidal again and didn’t want to get to the point of an attempt. He walked to my house and waited outside for me the day I returned. One time, he helped me pay for therapy when my dad and I were having issues. Being bipolar means there are times I have intense depressive episodes or extra energy and lack of focus. When I feel depression coming, I tell my boyfriend so we can adjust our plans. Sometimes, he picks up on the high anxiety or mania and will check in to make sure I’m not falling off my tasks. He tries to keep me entertained so I don’t get too hyper. So far, my mental health has been a way for us to be more considerate of each other.
Abuse in mental health institutions is not a new phenomenon. Reports of abuse emanate from care institutions nationwide. This is worsened by the fact that there are thousands of unregistered mental health institutions which often use unorthodox methods in the treatment of patients. The case isn’t any different in government-run institutions where practitioners operate unsupervised and unchecked, leading to several instances of human rights abuses.
To commemorate Mental Health Awareness Month, I spoke to Remi, a former patient of the psychiatric ward at the Lagos University Teaching Hospital, Idi-Araba as part of a four-part series in partnership with She Writes Woman Mental Health Initiative highlighting human right abuses of people with mental health conditions in Nigeria.
My name is Remi, and I’m a student at the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital. In 2019, I was diagnosed with depression and suicide ideation. I went to see a doctor after seeing symptoms of what I assumed was Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD).
What were the symptoms?
I was unable to focus on things. In class, I always zoned out or fell asleep. I had to cram to pass exams and I’d forget everything I read right after.
I also had problems socially. I always preferred to keep to myself, and didn’t have any friends. My roommates tried to make friends with me but I always rejected them. My temperament also estranged people from me. I got severely angry at the slightest trigger so people generally stayed away. On the inside, I was always angry, sad or just numb.
So what did the doctor do?
She wasn’t convinced that I had ADHD. She chalked all my symptoms to just being stressed. I was certain I had ADHD and I was determined to make her see. I mentioned in passing that I sometimes think about killing myself and she immediately referred me to LUTH’s Psychiatric ward to see a specialist.
At the psychiatric ward, I was diagnosed with severe depression with suicidal ideation and they refused to let me leave unless I called a relative. I refused. They called their intervention personnel — big, heavily-built men who they said would restrain me if I tried to make a scene. They threatened me to call my relatives or risk spending the weekend chained to a bed till Monday — it was a Friday.
Woah. Why didn’t you want to call a family member?
The only relatives I could call were my parents and I didn’t want them to think I had mental health issues. An uncle of mine lives with schizophrenia and I’ve always heard of them speak with him with a certain stigma. I didn’t want my parents to think I also had a mental health condition.
So, who did you call?
I called a doctor who worked at the NGO I volunteered for but unfortunately, she wasn’t in Lagos so I had to call my mom who called my dad. When they arrived, the nurses said I’ll need to be admitted. I lied to my parents that depression had to do with a gastrointestinal issue I had and told them I didn’t want to be admitted.
My parents told the nurses that I would not be getting admitted. They were made to sign a document in which they undertook to ensure I came for my clinic appointments.
I was prescribed some drugs for my depression and assigned to a psychologist. I used the drugs religiously and faithfully attended my appointments but my mental health worsened.
What happened next?
I was told I had to be admitted. They said I would be admitted for a period of two weeks. I knew that my condition was worsening but I was worried about missing school. My depressive episode had been triggered because I performed poorly in school and missing weeks of classes could make me carry some courses over into the next semester.
I eventually agreed to be admitted, thinking two weeks wasn’t so bad. I was promised that I would get help from a team of psychiatrists and psychologists who would see me every day. I knew I needed help so I agreed.
After I was admitted, a nurse told me that it was impossible for me to be admitted for just two weeks. She stated that the minimum time spent admitted was six weeks, and even that was a minimum. With severe depression, it was unlikely I’d even get out after six weeks. I hated the fact that I was lied to. Why did they have to? I would have agreed to be admitted, without needing to be lied to.
Wow. Did you at least get the help you were promised?
I was assigned a bed in an open ward filled with patients in varying severity of mental health conditions. I found it hard to sleep because there were no fans in the wards. There were also mosquitoes and the patient adjacent to my bed snored terribly loud.
Day after day, I waited to see a psychiatrist or psychologist but none came around. I was just given drugs and food every day. I was losing my mind in boredom because my phone and laptops were taken away. I had nothing else to do but eat and sleep. The medication they gave me made me very drowsy all the time, so I was taking a lot of naps. I was also not allowed to read because they said I have something called Brain Fog Syndrome. I was bored and fed up. On top of that, I wasn’t getting the treatment I was promised.
My mom came to visit daily with my favourite foods because I’m a picky eater. She’d also bring along my phone so I could text and watch movies while she was around. One time, she had a run-in with a nurse who was angry I didn’t eat hospital food. The nurse continued to be rude to my mother without provocation every day of my stay.
By the fifth day, a Friday, I could no longer take it. I demanded to be discharged from the hospital because I felt I was just wasting away, doing nothing but eating and sleeping while my mates were studying. I didn’t want to risk carrying a course over at school so I asked my mom to ask for my discharge. I explained everything to her and she agreed.
My mom asked for advice from a family friend who was a psychologist and she was told that I could go home as long as I attended my clinic days religiously. The nurses tried to discourage my mom from checking me out but she was determined. They threatened that if my mother took me home and I harmed myself, the blame would be on my mother. My mother and I insisted that I was lucid and was fit to attend the clinic from home.
She signed the required Discharge Against Medical Advice (DAMA) form and spoke to a resident doctor who impressed on her the implications of me going home before the conclusion of my treatment. The doctor reluctantly signed my release form and said I was good to go.
We handed the DAMA form to the nurses. They then refused to let me go because my dad was listed as my next-of-kin but it was my mother who came to request my discharge. The resident doctor said it was a tiny matter that could be overlooked but the nurses refused, saying my dad had to come in person. We begged and pleaded with them, stating that my dad was at work and wouldn’t be able to arrive till way past 6 pm, the closing time. That would have meant I’d have to spend the weekend at the facility since it was a Friday. They refused and insisted my dad come all the way to sign the form.
Against all odds, my dad made it there before six pm that evening. The nurses tried to discourage him as well, to the point of aggression but my dad had spoken to our psychologist friend who had told him there was no harm in me going home. I had a feeling the nurses were trying to delay till closing time in order to keep me there for the weekend.
Whew. So you went home, right?
Unfortunately, the officer to sign my final release papers had already gone home that evening. I was told I’d have to wait till the next morning before I could go home.
Wow.
My mother and younger brother begged and fought and pleaded for me to be released that night to be allowed home but the nurses disagreed. I told my parents to go home and come the next morning. My father did but my mother said it was already too late to go home and make the long trip back to the hospital again in the morning. She and my brother would sleep somewhere on the LUTH campus till it was time to fetch me. I tried to discourage her but she refused. She snuck me my phone to call her in case anything was wrong because she didn’t trust the nurses.
Wow. What happened next?
Miserably, I went back to my bed. Shortly after, one of the nurses came to me and said she suspected my mom had given me a phone. I denied it several times. She threatened to search my things, which she did. I had anticipated this so I had hidden the phone in my shirt. She continued to insist that she was sure I had a phone on me and would search my body. I pointedly refused, telling her she had no right to touch me. I anticipated that she would be back so I hid the phone in my panties.
She left and returned a moment later with one of the heavily-built crisis intervention personnel whom she ordered to handcuff me to the bed and restrain my legs while she searched me. I was screaming at her not to touch me but she did anyway. When she didn’t find it, she said she would have to search my privates and I screamed at her not to do it. She ordered the guard to hold my hands and legs while she stripped my pants off, in the full view of the male guard and the rest of the patients in the ward. She took my phone and left me on the ground, naked and screaming. I felt so violated that I didn’t know what to do but to keep screaming.
Oh my God. I’m so sorry.
Apparently, my screams were so loud that my mother and brother heard where they were and came running back to see what was wrong. They peered through the window and saw me handcuffed to the bed, screaming, naked and jerking at the cuffs violently. Their pleas to tell them what was wrong was left unanswered, as I could not just stop screaming for minutes on end. The nurses threatened to inject me with a sedative if I didn’t keep quiet.
My mother and brother tried to get into the ward but the nurses refused to let them in. They told them nothing and the nurses threatened to have my mother thrown out. She was heartbroken seeing me in that state.
Did no one try to intervene?
Eventually, a senior nurse from a different ward came to find out what was wrong. She spoke to my mom, went inside to see me and calmed the situation. My mom asked her to let us go home but the nurse said she could only help if she was given a bribe. My mom pleaded and said she would bring something for her the next day as she had no money on her. The nurse agreed and directed the junior nurses to let us go.
Did you try to report this incidence?
Report? What’s the point? This was something the nurses did regularly without consequences. My reporting wouldn’t have made any difference, especially as my family doesn’t “know anybody.”
How did you continue treatment?
I opted to continue treatment privately, which I found to be very expensive.
Remi is currently receiving private treatment, however expensive. She is continuing her education and finds joy volunteering as an advocate for mental health issues in Nigeria.
People living with mental health conditions and psychosocial disabilities in Nigeria continue to be subjected to varying levels of human rights abuses across state-owned and otherwise owned facilities. She Writes Woman and Zikoko continue to document and amplify the lived experiences of these victims in a bid to hold the Nigerian government accountable to ensuring human rights-respecting mental health legislation in Nigeria.
Do you have a story of abuse in state-owned, religious or traditional facilities? Reach out to @shewriteswoman across social media.
If you’ll like to get confidential support for your mental health, call the 24/7 toll-free helpline – 0800 800 2000.
May is Mental Health Awareness month, which is a time to raise awareness of trauma and the impact it can have on the physical, emotional, and mental well-being of people. Different factors affect our mental health without us knowing it. In this article, I asked seven Nigerian women about the things that affect their mental health. Here’s what they had to say:
Tolani
Every day on Twitter, I see something that makes me want to stay at home and never leave. These days, there are more incidents of kidnapping and it makes me scared. I left my job which was about ten minutes away from my house for a completely remote one because I am scared of what could happen on my way from work. The news I read online tells me that I could die no matter what I do and I am just a pawn in someone else’s chessboard.
Ebi
There are some complications in my relationships with family and work that make life difficult sometimes. Even though I am the last child of my family, my dad and my older sisters see no problem with emotionally dumping on me. Because I am an empath, I end up wearing their problems as mine.
At work, things are weird for me because of my boss. He likes picking on me. He has gone as far as giving me a new name. I have been applying for other jobs but my field is predominantly male so getting a job as a woman is hard. I am also going through a marriage annulment and all of this just makes everything else heavy.
Ada
I hate how men gaslight women online especially when it is about a woman’s experience with another man. I had a conversation with a man recently and he kept going on about how women enjoy playing victim and how he doesn’t care what happens to women. In that moment, I almost had a panic attack. Every word he said triggered me and all I wanted to do was cry.
Ruth
I don’t like when my loved ones say mean things to me. Sometimes, I cry. About a few weeks ago, my mum said some cruel things and I couldn’t eat afterwards. When she was apologizing she said, I provoke her to say those things to me. That doesn’t even make any sense.
Bisola
My job earns me little or nothing and I have not been able to get another job. I have no interest in the job and sometimes I am afraid I will lose it. I have no savings and that scares me. I am grateful for my parents, but the truth is I can’t depend on them forever.
Jumoke
Every time I come online and I see the word ‘rape’, I am immediately triggered. These days on Nigerian Twitter, more and more cases keep popping up. I don’t know what to do other than blocking the rape apologists I come across.
Nkechi
I am the first daughter and first child of my Igbo family. This affects my mental health because I’m expected to act a certain way and live a certain life. I have more or less been controlled my whole life to be a particular person and it’s very difficult to break free from that. My parents are narcissistic. They believe they are right no matter what. I love them but I hate them at the same time.
They found out I am queer last year and since then I’ve been going through mental, emotional, and physical abuse because of my sexuality. As a result, I have been diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD. Every day my mental health suffers but I am doing my best to get through each day.
Nigerians have come a long way from how they perceive mental health. The youths are more mindful and self-aware and are in turn educating the older populace about mental awareness. Today, I spoke to 6 strong Nigerian women about their mental health journey and because this is a story of how they conquered, I will be adding their superpowers.
Sophie, 21,
Superpower: Resilient and self-aware
In 2019, my mother was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. It came as a shock to me because she is my everything, she is the parent that stayed so to see her become so ill broke me. At the time, I was already dealing with overthinking and anxiety so it was tough for me to accept this new reality. I’d be at school or work and start worrying that something must have happened to her in my absence.
A part of me is still ridden with guilt that somehow this is my fault. It’s ridiculous, I know but I cannot help but feel like I should have seen the signs or been more attentive.
Over time, I took on more responsibilities and I could feel myself getting drained. As she got better, I became worse. Food, sleep, hanging out became a distant memory for me. Whenever I went out, I’d find myself crying in the uber. This was when I decided to get help. E-counselling has really helped me. I now know to keep my mind and personal space clean. Trying not to clutter my life with negative people and so far, things have gotten better. I am mentally in a better place.
Anna, 25
Superpower: Speaks 4 languages and knows over 60 countries national anthem
I started learning national anthems as a way to beat depression and social anxiety. When I was 6, my twin brother died. When I turned 8, my mom died as well. It was just me and my dad and he wasn’t really the “fatherly” figure one would expect. He remarried and that was when my life truly became hell. My stepmother tortured me for days. She’d lock me up in a room for an extended period whenever my dad was away. It got so bad that I refused to come home for mid-term breaks and I’d be the last to leave school on long holidays.
When I got into university, this woman would pay boys to beat and harass me. At some point, I became friends with the guys she used to send. We would end up using the money she paid them to hang out.
Whenever I complained to my father, he would tell me everything would be okay. It took this woman almost setting me on fire for my father to send me to my aunt’s place. When I moved in with my aunt in Lagos, I began to seek help. I would stay indoors for days without eating or moving. So my aunt made me see a therapist and I got diagnosed with clinical depression.
In December 2018, I wrote a suicide note, had a bottle of sniper near me that day. Funny enough, a call from my Dad saved me.
He just called and said he loves me. That was the first time my dad ever uttered those words to me.
So I’ve been battling a lot of anxiety and sadness all my life. Even now that I’m older and more independent, I still have a lot of anxiety.
Sometimes I feel like my heart is about to fall out of my chest. I have unnecessary panic attacks. I almost feel like I’m broken. This past week, I haven’t been able to sleep at night. I’m mostly awake overwhelmed by my own thoughts. As much as I am thankful for life, I do not feel like I have a purpose.
Dami, 22
Superpower: Very Logical and empathetic
I have battled with mental health issues all my life but the incident that stood out for me was the year 2018 when I was in school. When it happened I just knew I had to get help. Just before I had my exams, I had a breakdown. Stayed in bed for a month, couldn’t function or eat. It ended with me in the hospital getting diagnosed with depression. It was so bad that I had to take a year off school. My parents wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting stressed over schooling while recovering. I think it hit them hard when they found out that I was cutting myself.
For me, I would say my triggers were a function of the uncertainty that hit me. All my life, I have maintained good grades, done what I was told to do and now I have to figure things out myself and the nagging question of “what next, what now?” hit me harder than I anticipated. I cut myself every few days during the hardest point of my depression. The only reason I’m alive is that I kept thinking about how my death would wreck my family and the religious implications as well.
I am very grateful for modern medicine and therapy. Although, being on anti-depressants makes me numb. I don’t feel sad or ecstatic about anything but it is better than feeling a pang of overwhelming sadness. I’d advise that people on anti-depressant always speak to a doctor before going off them cause suddenly stopping medication can lead to a deeper depression. I know this cause I have lived it.
Akpevweoghene, 20
Superpower: Unique thought process, open-minded
I haven’t been diagnosed yet but I have shown symptoms of anxiety. It is easy for me to breakdown during an argument, especially with a loved one. There was a day I broke down and tried to harm myself. It was terrible. I cried my eyes out, used my body to hit the floors. It was scary and confusing plus I had no idea what was happening. I felt insane. It got worse, I entered the kitchen, picked up a lighter and started burning my hands. A loved one had to intervene. After the incident, I started reevaluating myself. I wondered why I couldn’t feel the burning pain until I stopped hurting myself. It made me realise that I may have a mental health issue. ‘
Seeing that I cannot afford therapy, I have been getting help from mentally aware. Some days the breakdowns are subtle like the rains and other days it could be as harsh as a storm. To cope, I have distanced myself from my toxic family and their expectations. Writing also helps.
I believe everyone has their share of mental health issues but how they handle is what truly matters. The world may vilify people who have been open and expressive about mental health but I want those that aren’t speaking up to know that it is not their fault in any way and they shouldn’t let stigma stop them from speaking up.
Having a mental health issue actually saved me from a bad relationship. thing is, I left a bad relationship to a worse one. When I tried to leave again, the guy would come with a face full of remorse and a mouth full of apologies. I knew the relationship wasn’t what I wanted cause of the amount of stress the guy put me through. Imagine being in a relationship where your partner enjoys having quarrels. He was an overthinker and if I agreed too quickly on something with him, it would stir up an argument. I gave 80% of my life to him, we were always together because he’d insist on it.
I could feel myself hitting rock bottom in the relationship but I stayed. Until I started crying in my sleep. I’d wake up with tears and the nagging memories of a nightmare. I knew I had had enough when I woke up to voices in my head screaming hateful things at me. It was terrifying because it felt so real. I could hear the voices saying “I hate myself, I hate you.”
Thing is, I would never think these words to myself on a normal day so why are these voices yelling this at me? The voices were throwing a tantrum and I just stayed there crying. I didn’t want to link it with mental health because I felt I was strong and these things were beneath me. Eventually, I ended the relationship and left all social platforms for about 6 months. I didn’t go for therapy but I took on meditation, yoga and exercise to cope. Life is meant to be enjoyed and I’m glad I found what works for me.
Kevwe 26
Superpower: Selfless with a big heart that has nothing to do with cardiomegaly.
When I was in school in 2014, my father died. I had bouts of depression. Back then, I wasn’t quite sure what the emotions I was going through were but now I know that it’s a miracle I was able to pass my exams that year. Since then, I have dealt with anxiety in different forms. I have researched painless ways to die.
In my search for an optimal suicide option, found an injection that could let me go away painlessly but it’s wasn’t sold in Nigeria. The other options were drowning in the 3rd mainland bridge or by hanging. I searched for anything that would make me go and ensure I didn’t survive cause it would be worse than the depression. I didn’t want to deal with the guilt or get arrested cause apparently, suicide is a criminal offence in Nigeria.
The funny thing is, my organisation provides resources for therapy and such but I just want to wallow. I don’t think there is anything to be happy about. Right now, I can’t even tell my partner cause he is going through his own problems. In times like this, I miss being able to pray and just take things to Jesus. It was easier. I don’t want to bewoke anymore, I want to sleep. I’m tired.
As far as the average Nigerian is concerned mental health issues don’t exist for us. If you are depressed or suffering from some sort of mental illness, it’s either your village people who are doing you or you need deliverance. In fact, if you’ve ever heard a Nigerian talk about mental health we are pretty sure you heard something along the lines of these statements.
“Have you prayed about it? Let me give you my pastor’s number”
“It’s that the only thing that’s doing you, your own is even small, my landlord gave me quit notice yesterday”
“I don’t blame you, it’s because you don’t have real problems to think about”
“Depressed ke? God forbid, have you eaten today, maybe you are hungry”
“You want to talk to a therapist? For what? It’s like you think you are oyinbo”
“Ahan you too you are depressed, it’s like this thing is trending now”
“Better go and pray about it, such shall never be your portion in Jesus name”
“It’s just a phase jo it’ll pass, don’t worry”
“Ahan you are wearing cloth, you can eat everyday, there are clothes on your back, what more do you want?”
“You just like to dey overthink, it’s not that serious”
“You want to get help? You don’t know that you have to help yourself first abi?”
“Are you the only one? We are all sad please, stop making a big deal about it”
“You just like attention sha”
“At your small age, what do you have to be anxious about?”
“You are just too sensitive abeg”
“You have to pray more o, don’t let the devil manifest himself in your life”
“Wait I don’t understand, so…you are mad?”
“Wo you are not alone, the way it’s doing you is the way it’s doing all of us.”
“Shh don’t talk about it, you want your enemies to use it against you?”
If you’ve ever been guilty of saying any of the above, we are here to tell you that you need to do better. If you know someone who is struggling with mental health issues, it’s not enough to just help them pray about it.
If you need someone to talk to, the guys at MANI are doing incredible work, and we stan.
Hi Family, Today looks like a particularly good day to talk about @mentallyawareng (MANI), our amazing volunteers, the extent of our services offered and our limitations. THREAD. Please do RT #iammentalllyaware#keeptalkingMH
