Two years ago, I made a decision that would change my life forever. It wasn’t an easy choice, but it was one I felt I had to make. I left home, not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t want to hear the pain in my mother’s voice.
Every time I spoke with her, she would tell me how hard it was to make ends meet, how our foodstuffs were about to finish, how the house was becoming empty, and I just couldn’t bear it anymore.
As a son, I felt it was my responsibility to take care of my family, even if it meant leaving home and facing the harsh realities of life on my own. I packed my things and went to Lagos, hoping that I could find a way to make a living and send money back home. But, as the days passed, I quickly realized that life was harder than I thought.
The city that seemed so full of opportunities was just as unforgiving. The economy was tough, the competition was fierce, and I was struggling to keep my head above water. It was an uphill battle every single day, and I found myself barely surviving, living from one day to the next.
As time went on, my plans to save money and send it back home slowly slipped away. The money I earned was just enough to feed myself and survive. The promises I made to my mother, that I would come back with enough to take care of her and the family, began to feel like distant dreams.
The reality of my situation was that I couldn’t save a penny. Every time I thought I was close to building something, the costs of living and the pressures of trying to make it in a big city drained me. I was always broke, always behind on bills, always struggling to keep up.
It’s been two years now, and I haven’t been able to go back home. The guilt of not being there for my family, especially my mom, has weighed on me every single day.
I can still hear her voice, always crying and asking when I’ll come back. She would say things like, “I miss you,” and “I can’t do this without you,” and it tore me apart. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t afford to make the trip. The dream of returning home seemed so far away, and every time I tried to plan it, life would get in the way.
Now, I find myself trapped in a vicious cycle. I want so badly to return to my mother, to tell her I’ve made it, to tell her that I’m back and everything will be okay. But I can’t even afford the trip.
The idea of telling my mother that I couldn’t come back because I was financially stuck breaks my heart. It’s not just the physical distance; it’s the emotional toll of feeling like I’ve failed my family.
The weight of not being able to help or ease my mother’s suffering is unbearable. This life is truly a struggle, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. The pressure of trying to make a living in such difficult circumstances feels like it’s slowly breaking me.
I keep telling myself that I can’t give up because of my mom, but some days, the pain is too much to bear. I know that if I give up, it will only hurt her more, and that thought keeps me going. But the struggle to stay afloat in this harsh economy leaves me feeling defeated.
I keep thinking about my mother and how much I love her. I can’t imagine how she would feel if I gave up. Her hopes and dreams for me are what keep me alive, but the burden of not being able to fulfill them weighs heavily on my heart. The thought of her tears, the idea of her asking, “Why didn’t you come back?” is what keeps me from breaking completely.
But one thing I’ve realised is that I can’t kill myself because of the pain. I can’t let my mom bear the weight of my loss. I owe it to her to keep fighting, even when I don’t know how I’ll make it through. I may not have the money, I may not have the answers, but I’ll never give up on the dream of going back home.
Because in the end, my mother’s love and my own sense of responsibility are what will keep me going, no matter how difficult the journey may be.