A Strange Case of Old Habits and Their Attempted Murder

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Growing up, I ruled my siblings with the same iron fist my parents ruled me with. I beat the daylights out of those two. I cannot recall a single point in my life where I was the cool elder sibling, but it would seem my sister has nestled into the position pretty well. Growing up further, I have carried this draconian madness through my life into my friendships and relationships, an aspect that has had me driving them both off a cliff into a ravine. In fact, if you squint hard enough on street view, you will see that ravine somewhere in the middle of Relationship County (because where else), you will see a spot full of relationships I have thrown there, after they cut me off, probably as a part of their new year’s resolution. They will then text back to get a retweet or their YouTube link that I will open accidentally in 6 months. Mostly I never really noticed it, because it would seem, like my concentration, during disagreements, I have the empathic span of a carrot. And I have only come to realize it.

See in the span I was questioning my faith, whether Ruby is right about black Jesus, the right shade of white my righteousness illuminates, whether Beyoncé is my preacher and everything in between I may have asked the gods a request using the words Ciara used and I landed myself an incredible partner. The kind you read about in all those young adult novels, minus a trust fund of course. Miraculously so, because I can be nice sometimes. And for ten months, we have tried at this thing, the most serious one I’ve had in my life. As in my past relationships, it takes a while but my ugly side starts showing. I have some simmering anger issues. No, I don’t shout 'Niue unikule!' in a Safaricom t-shirt and rollers in my shower cape at 11 in the night. I’m not one for this level of theatrics. I shut out people coldly if things do not go my way. I can go about it for as long as I need to prove a point. I dislike this bit as much as I do my adult acne. It is one of my most undesirable characteristics. That and the fact that I don’t like kachumbari.

My sister and I stewed in this toxic behavior and we still do it to date. In fact, my brother has picked it up as well. Combined, be stock photos tagged under sibling’s therapy. However, I noticed this isn't working with anyone else in my life and I have had quite the ride trying to adjust and finding a coping mechanism. It sounds like something that you’d read off of a Mark Manson book; an intellectual mind feast that will guide you onto a self-discovery journey. Easy. In/out. Unsophisticated. But I can assure you I give up about twice a week. I don’t have a fight or flight response to any stressing situation. I only have a flight response; meaning at the slightest sign of stress, I’ll gather my skirt and run for the hills. And so, I have done. Consistently. Which makes me wonder why I haven’t applied this commercially for a gold medal or a Bahraini citizenship. But this whole kerfuffle is tiresome and it hurts those close to me.

So, I want to try being a little less self-centered and involve myself in something suggested by others a little more. Like trying his ideas more than twice before I riddle them with excuses and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine. Or clicking that YouTube link in my DMs.  I’ll try and not fall asleep ten minutes into the movies he suggests. Probably refrain from rehanging all the clothes cos he didn’t turn them inside out and hang them by colour…you know what, let’s start with the movies. Baby steps.

I know I have a lot of things to unlearn and at this age, any form of school feels like breath being sucked out from aged lungs. The spirit of very willing, but the body wants to chomp on a bag of salt and vinegar as I catch up on Love Island. But I know all this requires sacrifice, or at least bare minimum effort, and I want to try. I know consistency works; my clearing face is enough proof. I will give this a shot. An un-missing pro-American movie drone shot accuracy of a shot. On that note, I want to dig at it and work on that sour part of my saucy self, so that if you ended up on the Coke/Mentos level of boredom and went exploring into the relationship ravine again and you see this relationship there, just know I tried to land this one. The booty rubs, the cocoa when I’m beating a deadline and all those cute little things are worth all the effort. Every last bit of it, cos you know old habits don’t just die hard, their ghosts come back to bite you in the ass.

Also, if you're asking if I wrote this during sad nigga hours, I absolutely did.