I won’t sit here and pretend that my favorite parts of the day were when he left and when he came back. My parents and younger brother are back to spotting me every two days, so the idea of being alone the whole day was a joy. But then, at about 7 pm, I would yearn to hear him trying to open the door, of which I’d walk over and open the bottom latch. I miss that, and I won’t lie. Seeing someone who was your favorite walk into a room is quite something. Unless I wasn’t in the mood to cook. A story for another day.
BUT HERE WE ARE.
At 02:57, crossed-legged on my bed with a passed-out guest in one of the spare rooms and a younger brother I need to look for soon, lest he passed out on the dining table. That was a fun evening.
Sunk Cost Fallacy: Ati who?
“The Sunk Cost Fallacy describes our tendency to follow through on an endeavor if we have already invested time, effort or money into it, whether or not the current costs outweigh the benefits.”
Here is the source.
The relationship did not last for over a year, though I had known him for longer. A story for another day, because now that I am back to being single, people have SEVERAL opinions, including calling him “The Village Idiot,” and others discussing, “How the fuck did that happen?” Not the point; that was my choice. I find him to be a sweet but very misguided human. But as I said, see me with him again and call the cops- I need to go to rehab because I have grown a liking to cocaine, never mind having not seen it.
Here is where sunk cost fallacy comes in.
But before that: Public Service Announcement
I went on Instagram and announced that this man is an abuser. If you end up with him, that is a “YOU” problem because 1) let’s not recycled abusers, and 2) I told you so. If the same shit happens to you… hm. The verdict is out there about “but you should have kept your domestics to yourself,” but here we are.
Yo, even my father declared me single three days ago. Someone tell his people they can come for the percentage of dowry they chucked. Here in the Kamiru Clan, we don’t fuck around. Not when you put your hands on your woman and call their father-in-law at 2 am to come to pick their married daughter from “your” household. (We might as well, let’s not pretend other women haven’t been through worse. Ati me censoring what happened is helping who? Nonsense.)
Back to the point, and my awareness of my female privilege of being born in this Clan. And with my personality. And why I will compliment you if I spot the clothes and things I didn’t go back for on your body because I think I have good taste.
Back to why you’re being deceived
It didn’t happen once; it happened twice. I don’t feel like explaining how this vocal bad bitch found herself by the front door wailing, afraid to have her ass whooped, but that happened. That’s the thing. I looked at the amount of time, emotion, body, mind, money, words, cleaning, cooking, being the ideal wife, and all that shit I had put into the relationship. As I said, “those were red flags, not pom-poms.”
The benefit wasn’t presenting itself. Sure, I was no saint. I would go off on his intellectual capacity when he got matching for the patriarchy. I said he and his mum triggered me because I don’t come from an argumentative family. Us here we fight when you have SINNED. That didn’t go down well, and it turned into, “You don’t respect parents and God,” hence the justification for the violence. Hah. But you can call out my mother for wanting me in the “Happy Hotel” for two days longer and said a lot more about “your father not putting effort” to take me out sooner. I am putting that nicely.
Sidebar: I am tired of the sigma. I have been to a psychiatric institution twice. I am not mentally all there. I have medication and therapy. If you think a certain way about me, that is fine, but pretending I have been okay all this time…. Fam. I am done. Fuck your “lakini hizi manbo si lazima watu wajue” ass self. I am here to help people like me.
My being drawn into this fallacy was that I have made it clear this is the man I want to be with. I had thrown people’s opinions up in the air and said fuck it. In a deep sleep with a light snore, this is a man who grabbed me midair, falling from the bed on my way to the loo. That’s how intertwined we were. He is not a bad guy. He isn’t; I just don’t know this version of him that cropped up on the last week of December. That’s not the man I met.
Sunk cost fallacy would have me stay there until I recovered the man I met.
And then there is me: fuck that shit.
First, you can tell Mr. XYZ from KAPC to get his life and the institution together. I would be in my second year of Counselling Psychology, but here we are. Please quote me because it’s just nonsense. I have wasted one and half years and have to start again in another institution. Mr. XYZ. That’s his name. Tell him to get the institution straight. I have other choice words, but hey.
Second, I met some fantastic humans during the brief time I was there. Even so, there was a chilling story from one of my classmates. She was working in the emergency department of a well-known public hospital, and during one of the classes, she revealed something devastating but well know.
The number of married women brought to the hospital dead by their husbands and mothers-in-law due to “accidents” was a lot.
I don’t feel like being an accidental statistic. Do I think he would have killed me? No. Do I believe in a rage and protecting myself, I would have pulled a knife? I don’t know. I don’t have to find out. I had already turned one to my wrist.
Mental illness aside….
It’s a fallacy
Here’s the thing: many women stay behind because they feel they have invested way too much to walk away. The ones I feel the most for are those with children with no income of their own. They have to depend on men to foot their needs, airtime included, which never comes because who are you calling?
That said, if you’re like me, making your cash no matter how little, there is no shame in going back home to regroup. If you have more, get as much as you can and walk away. Something my favorite uncle (the 72-year-old who continues to traumatize me), my father, and namesake, said was, “I know you left a lot of nice things there, but there is no benefit in going back for them.” Sure, I am blessed to have more clothes back at my folks, but if you’ve left, beloved, if he calls you to pick your things, don’t go.
I have an aunt who’s the counselor for the teachers she oversees, and the number of stories she has told me of women tragically going back is too many.
Do I think he will do anything to me? No. But am I likely to say something, no matter how mild, to trigger him? Yes. Me, I don’t want that.
There is nothing back there for you
I was chased away (for hilariously stupid reasons, but okay), but you, beloved, there is nothing there for you if you are reading this. NOTHING. Will you take a long ass while to move on? Yes. You are meant to. This is someone you gave your ALL to. Undoing that will take a while. Honestly, I think I have spent all of one and half months of hours in bed for the last three months. This “moving on” shit will take you a while, and there is no shame in that. You loved, and you loved hard. But yet, here you are.
But that’s better than a body bag, accidental or otherwise.
Giving up the fallacy
Do I want to be back there, sitting watching movies and him passing me soda or booze just at the right time when I realize my glass is empty? Fuck yes. Cuddling? Yes. Watching him trying not to blush when I called his street smart? Yes. Touching him the right way and watching goosebumps form all over his body? Yo. Having someone dedicate their existence to making me laugh and me encouraging him? HELLS YES! I miss that shit, and it hurts me (less these days) to remember those moments and know I don’t have that anymore.
As I said, again, nice guy, but highly misguided.
Was it my fault? Sure, he didn’t understand bipolar when we met. That’s all I can say about that. And knowing myself, being triggered in the “right angle” is a recipe for disaster. Did he need to put his hands on me? Ask his mother.
And I have therapy to thank for the boldness to walk away. THERAPY! That 2018 move was smart.
Do you know yourself and your worth? Do you know what you deserve? Do you know what you ought not to tolerate from other human beings?
Thanks for reading this far…
I am here to be honest, and let people, or one person, know they are not alone. Help someone out of an abusive relationship, no matter how “mild,” because emotional, psychological, etc., aren’t acknowledged. Even one- that is more than enough for several generations.
PS: Muchura, thank you for your 4:30am feedback. Much love. (and no, humans, we can’t be friends in peace?! Aunt Emily I am talking to you!)
PPS: I deleted the last post of the schupid text he sent.
PPPS: We found my younger brother on the sofa, he is now safely in bed LOL!
PPPPS: The guest just text (05:40) to know where the loo is LMAO!
It was a good night.