Mwanaume strong

Self-care is  the act of taking care of oneself both physically or mentally without any health- professional help, a term used attributively; "I had a tough day so I'm going to use the next four hours for self-care." Self-care has existed since time immemorial. However, it has been predominantly and quite ostensibly practiced by the female species. Hence, men have always affiliated the term with ladies, not knowing that they, also, are in dire need of a bit of self-love and self-care. I think until recently, men have always had a retrogressive attitude towards "self-care". deeming it to portray them as paragons of weakness; especially for society's so-called; "Alpha males". This has now been proven otherwise; as self-care has now been panned out to be rather integral in the healthy development of the human mind and body.  Few stoic men have practiced different forms of self-care. This is especially popular among athletes and the "Z...

  I think death itself is the summary statement of one's predicament, and people usually come into its embrace, days and months before the barrel of a gun feels cold against one's tongue, its head mounted in a vantage position on the roof of the tongue, and from it; slightly acidic and pungent smelling gun oil, immaculately oozing or the calloused fingertips finally and lastly experiencing a rough feel of the rough metal between the bridge rails. Then it's "boom!"; rivers and rivers of blood, almost livid and ketchup-like, that it almost looks fake. Just to sum up, some people die before they experience death. " I was tired, I was weary, I was weak, I was worn". Scene; alliteration, that is what my powerful English teacher taught me. I use it to hide the hidden meaning of my poem. I use it quite ostensibly. The barbiturates I take to regulate my emotions have turned me into an insomniac. I had been awake almost the whole night pondering the w...

Welcome back to my Blog!  In today's post, I will be talking about the arduous and rocky journey in trying to combat depression and anxiety through therapy. The Journey began on February 13th 2022. Ironically, It was a Friday (spooky....I know). This was the day I first set foot in a psychologist's office. I had mixed feelings to say the least. I remember feeling quite anxious, my heart pounding and almost throbbing out of my chest. My futile attempts with self help from self help books; seemed lackluster. I couldn't hold it within me anymore. The water guard had slipped off my puny hands and collapsed, breaking into pieces just at the door step. The door step to my temple. I literally collapsed in prior episodes before this day.... filled with "zeal and zest". My benign mother alias " mayi " went in first as I remained transfixed to the car seat with a fatalistic expression, plastered on my visage. I can say, I allowed my mind to roam fleeti...

They bathe me. They bathe me with their love, they bathe me with their confidence, and they bathe me with their reassurance. They have stood me in great stead in my struggles with my mental health. They are magicians, they have pulled me back together, knot after knot after knot from my cut pieces. They have brought me an orchestra, they have made the man in doubt disappear. No one and I mean not a breathing soul can do it on their own. This is no rocket science. As men, it is sometimes; in simple terms; "mind-boggling" to open up about our issues. This is especially rampant in the "African Janadume" … better known as "mwanaume strongs" of society. I would now like to tell you... baptize those tears, dry your eyes, wear your 'big-boy pants, and seek HELP! I was once very frightened. The thought of opening up made my stomach churn. I mean, how would the patriarchal society view me? I simply did not want to be a social pariah. But I knew for ...