Written by: Admin_SheEvo
On the 23rd of November 2015, I was abducted on my way home from work. I was robbed and held hostage for a few hours, then eventually released. Unfortunately, while they thought they had just robbed me of my salary, phone and wedding ring, they robbed me of much more. Let me explain how.
In 2016 I started a new job and a total career change. I was determined to learn and do well. But, unfortunately, my big personality, pretty face and larger-than-life sense of confidence struck a nerve in some egos. This messed with my anxiety and triggered so much stress as I quickly learnt that my life at this fantastic boutique-style investment firm would not be easy. Yet me being me, I managed to soldier on, and in doing this, I became more reserved. I cried in the ladies bathroom at least twice a week, and while that hurt, I always kept myself together, and I knew that my top priority was buying my mom a house. Even if that meant being isolated, lonely, or keeping my head down, I knew it was what I needed to do. So I kept my eyes on the prize.
A few years later, I was still in that toxic work environment. I got my mom her house, and I was in a good place financially for some time. In fact, I would like to say that most of my dreams came true. However, because I suppressed so much over the years, I was eventually diagnosed with:
the list goes on….
Yes, I’m resilient. In fact, I would like to consider myself a hero. But I’d been broken by so many people over the years and hid all those broken pieces.
When I was robbed in 2015, I was denied peace, and from that day, my body rejected any form of stability or security. I have been operating on an emotional and physical burnout for many years. I was then diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, which led to choosing between life-saving medication or Procreation. I’m a 38-year-old childless woman. I depend on medication to enable me to move. Every joint in my body is affected.
The traumas I experienced and the fight to survive, which I viewed as determination at the time, broke me and my body.
I should have walked away, yet I had no choice then. I just didn’t know better.
Today as I celebrate 7 years of resilience, I also mourn the children I could not birth, the moments I could not walk, and the therapy sessions I could no longer afford. My message for you is to never turn a blind eye. Soldering on at the expense of your mental and physical health is not worth it.