Mother in-laugh!

Sometimes, unpacking feels like sitting still with your emotions and letting the tears run, feeling every ounce of pain and acknowledging that we never deserved to go through some things. This one might make me consider therapy this time round, I need to unpack it in a healthy way, albeit the heaviness that I have, albeit the awareness and knowledge I have on my own through self-searching and self-healing. So will we sprout and pour out dear self? Precisely!

Dear ex mother in-law, I never in a day thought my journal would be full of broken pieces because of you. Of course I journal about everything, my emotions most especially, because this writing is the only food and medicine to my soul. The fact that it ends up getting journaled means it really matters.

Aah, so I don’t know much about you, I’ve heard stories about you definitely already, which most of them were gruesome until I met you. So first time I meet you I’m chilling with your son, aah, this man that I’ve learnt to love with all of my fibre being. First impression is meanness, energy definitely doesn’t lie. I see the shroud in your shoulders but I never mind, yes, I’m in your space, so baby girl has to behave.

We’ll skip some parts because I’m not necessarily looking to write a book, but I’ll definitely touch on what’s important. I have no issues with you whatsoever, because it’s in the automatic nature that we must have good relationships with our partner’s family, how dare you be the black sheep? Shaa!

Fast forward, red flags are all over, but they look maroon with a touch of that rose flower color, so beautiful to my eyes, I don’t pay attention whatsoever because we don’t necessarily have a good /close relationship. Besides you as the parent, I as the kid, as the master is to a slave. You are now living with your son and I’m involved. Let’s throw it back to that day you badly wanted money, things were not okay, and the only way out was starving or constantly calling your son to get you the money with no fail. Imagine it’s me that bailed you out, yes, was I 17 or 18? Still a naive teen that wouldn’t mind being a sacrificial lamb. So I go to our neighbor, our tenants in fact, ah, these Congolese who didn’t even know the value of Kenyan shilling yet but they know it’s valuable AF!

To do? Cook stories, put them in box, this must be the pandora box because as cunning as I am, I had to get the thousand Bob for my sweet boyfriend. Abracadabra, and voila, people are locked in the box. We have an agreement to return the money on a certain day without failure, lest, he’ll report me to my dad because the money was their rent money. Heh, so if I got reported to my dad, where would we even begin? Wanjiku unaomba Thao for what? Hiyo pesa yote? So me I say Que Sera Sera because I know manz would return the money in time.

Aah, si I go give MIL the money. We come from the same neighborhood, so I just have to drop it. Imagine not even a single thank you or at least a little stare in my face to recognize the effort I’ve put to hustle the money. Ata Asante aki?
Aah, so she assumes that I’m the eater of the son’s money and that I shouldn’t feel entitled to it, neither do I deserve it. Haidhuru!

Aah, so boyfriend’s mom is sorted and he sorts me as well and so I sort my loaner, easy peasy, forget about the mess and be breezy. So if you don’t know me for long or have not been here for a good time, here’s the catch, I started auditioning for a wifey duty at 18. True of God and it was because of MIL, I knew I’d end up with the son forever because I loved the son, (sorry, trauma bonded), but right now with the little age I’ve added, I’d still call it love because a girl and a boy were in love.

To do? Scrub her pots, wash clothes, cook food and don’t burn it and the worst yet shameless thing, take a role in parenting. Yiiii! Yeees! Imagine I’ve gone to the siblings school to pick report books and act the deputy present parent, truly and verily, I have been a step mom, or I was being taught to become one.

All this time, I’ve abandoned my own siblings, aii, si hao watanioa, right? Kwani wataduh? At that time, I was having problems with my folks, story for another day, so being nice on the other hand (codependency) was escapism. I’d rather be a goose at new lokeshen and not gander at my own. Na because it was like hustling, my siblings would not see me during the day because I was acting deputy parent elsewhere. Yeey, look at the trauma manifesting. Haya, twendelee…

Performing for my new family is the norm, and now Mr. Manz is guaranteed I’m a goody wife. Although we almost broke up this time because I was tired of washing the utensils and I told him; Buda, you and your house shall serve the lord like Joshua by doing your own dishes. Wueh, makosa! My baby my valentine told me to be the woman that he wants to marry and that will be approved by the mom. Haya, bado you are counting red flags? Sindio? I don’t know we broke up for how long or if we really did but after the make up, I went back to wash the utensils. Hii ndio mnaitanga make up sex, right? And we were happily ever after entangled again. Si I tell you marriage works.

Aah, after some time, now things got worse at my home sasa, yes, my peroz house and among other stories, I couldn’t fathom the environment. Besides, now I am married to my boyfriend and their family loves me, so to do? Move out ki Taliban. BTW I remember telling my dad, “oya, ukirudi hunipatiii ” 🤣. That was it. Me and my boyfriend were kitu kimoja under the mom’s roof!

So when they ask you what you bring to the table, mark me present to scrub the pots and diligently do “”wife material” duties. BTW mi usinione hivi feminist kichwa ngumu as they call us, when I’m in love, me I’ll put a bib on you and give you a boob, yes, come to mama. Vyombo niliosha, ase!

So remember, we are living as a happy family already but me as the house help, unemployed. Days moved, relationship with MIL was ish ish, what do you expect when I’m the one invading her space? We had tu issues here and there, and when sometimes I’d feel like I wouldn’t bottle it up, I’d go home to see my mom and siblings during the day, I knew that time dad wouldn’t be around, so it was to my advantage.

Here is where the real drama starts. Sweetheart and I discover we have conceived, shot moja safi sana, si mnaona mbegu ilitoa? Eni! To do? Not to panic, si besides I’m loved by the family, so what is there to worry about? But it is what gave us the go ahead to actually actualize our lives, we had to move out and start a life together. God of miracles did the thing. Me I got a scholarship to do fashion and tailoring at NITA, plus the same time got a job at Woolworths. So don’t wonder why I beat luku moja hatari. Fashion is and still has been in my bones, I’ll embark on it one day, on God!

And now because the relationship with me and MIL is baaad, to the gutters, I’m feeling at least secure, even if Mr manz will bail out on me. I was ready for anything at this point.

Want to know the worst that had happened? With those devilish pregnancy sickness and symptoms, I was lazing the whole day without doing anything, not even lift a spoon. Haya, alafu that same day, she makes matumbo and me I’m kwinished, I had attitude from here to Timbuktu, BTW that’s why I don’t like matumbo, ma intestines, yaani ma stomachs. We quarrel kidogo and I so wanted to call my mom and cry. But aii, msema kesho ni muongo, kesho yake was worse.

After I came from work, I found manz so sad, and he echoed that he was unhappy with how my relationship with the mom was getting worse by the day, and the demons that sends you to spy on the phone caught up with me. Kumbe, mathe had told the son to consider marrying a msichana wa ushago because I am hard headed and she doesn’t approve of our union and won’t bless it. Yes, baby boy was confiding in his best friend, it was just the devil that sent me to coincidentally see the texts, or maybe it was yesu. So I scream in Mungu saidia Yesu, nyasaye!

Yaani pregnancy is what is bringing everything? Wueh! But now manz had taken enough signs, he had to protect both the women in his life and now it was time for us to move out, kabaya kabaya. After he came off work, we went for house hunting, and we settled with among the first few houses that would be comfortable for us. Ready to move.

But before we do, here’s another catch, I had to thank my dear mother in-law for hosting me albeit the issues we had, but first question was, how much rent we’ll be paying. Asii, so you wonder why this is important and the answer is, to actually confirm that the money she would be given would now be going to rent. It’s at this point you give me that bucket because I’ll paint the city red. How colorful?

Amidst the circus, we finally managed to move out. Yes, me, the love of my life and our little lilliputian that was growing in my tummy every day. Aaw, sobs in little kicks, and we lived happily ever after in love, in hustling, in honesty, in building an empire. Love lived there, honestly.

Heh, with relationship improper fraction here and there, me now I had decided I never want anything to do with my MIL, she didn’t even know that we were pregnant, she came to find out later on officially (from us breaking the news) but I’m sure she had already filled in the dots. So at this point I had sworn my baby would not be named after her.

I knew it was a girl from the scans and from all the pregnancy sex I’d demand. Anyway, sijui about boys, maybe it’s just propaganda. My promise was that I couldn’t imagine naming my child after the same person that has given me a taste of hell. BTW if hell is like that, I promise I’ll get born again. Note, all this time, the worse my relationship with my mother in law gets, the worst it becomes for my dear husband, because Ata wewe, vita kama hiyo uta choose nani? Manz was defeated, I didn’t know the impact it costed him, because I was also clouded with the fact that I didn’t want anything to do with the mom.

I think this is the part we brief the story. Everything went well, delivery, baby, life moves on. But the constant is that I’m always very avoidant. I avoided anything that would ever make me bump into her, even her phone number I had deleted, that’s how peaceful I wanted it. But still, she became the reckoning factor in our relationship. On the other hand, she’d still control the son, she wanted to have a say in everything but I kept getting distant.

This in return destroyed our couple goals love, we had now become so distant ourselves, so detached, because what’s the point of having a third wheel in our relationship all the time? First forward now to how we came to separate with manz, of course I couldn’t go to tell the mom about our relationship scandals but at this point, I knew I wanted out. I was done for sure.

Little did I know that this was the part she had been waiting for forever. Alaa, si I’m not the perfect fit for the son, so why should I even bother her this time when our relationship is draining? She didn’t want me anyway. Aah, by the time we break up she had already found a replacement for the son. 🤣. Aah, let me laugh because I won’t cry.

You’ve heard of Chama cha mapinduzi, yaani even before I retired I was already overtaken, ni sawa tu. It was a blessing in disguise because nothing mattered anymore. The love of my life and that of my loins had become someone I didn’t want to see anymore. That’s how the relationship got toxic by the day, but si we move?

The worst is that, the very same appointed suitor became worse than me. Story for the 100 years to come if I’ll make it to narrate it at 69.(hey,it was just a random number, focus)!

I’ve heard of worse mother in-law tales, because for sure mine is not bad bad baaad. I have friends who have similar stories, but this one whose story stood., The mother in law made sure to destroy his family to the ground, to burn it down to ashes, because she didn’t want him to marry her daughter.He became suicidal at some point. And his words of encouragement always has been ;maybe one day, we’ll find the love we truly deserve and fit into perfect families that won’t destroy us, because our generation totals up with the most toxic and evil in-laws.

Aah, don’t cut onions here because it is well. Sometimes, the problem is not even the unions because of the people in it, most times, it is the external parties that ruin it for them. There’s no moral of the story regardless. Maybe I should never washed the utensils! Turrus!