Sweet Potatoes, this is how my marriage ended. But before you start reading this post, I want to appeal to you to do me a favor: SHARE THIS POST. On Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Whats App, Skype, Email, Every-Damn-Where because everyone should know. There are share buttons at the bottom of the post for your convenience. This is a long post. I tried to make it as short as possible, but it’s still long because story full ground. Read on. Then share. Thank you.
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I will write this story keeping in mind that for some people, this may be the first thing they are reading from me, so they may not be familiar with the people I’m talking about. Let’s start from the beginning.
I will refer to the person I used to be married to as The Boy. The Boy and I got married in 2011, and we had a baby (Ada Verastic) in 2015. He’s Yoruba. I’m Igbo. Maryland, USA is the setting for all this nonsense.
In 2016, right before Ada Verastic turned one, The Boy’s mother moved from Nigeria to America to live with us. It was not an idea I was thrilled about, but I came around to being okay with it. I was planning on leaving my job after having the baby (to work more on the blog), and The Boy said his mom would be a good addition, that she could care for the baby while I worked. I told The Boy that she could stay as long as I was not expected to change my life because she was now living with me. He agreed, said he was nervous too about her coming.
Side note: The Boy was not raised by his mother. She and The Boy’s father had him while they were very young. The Boy’s father never married her. He moved on, married a woman, and had three sons with her. The Boy’s mother moved on, but apparently, only physically. She had more children, each one with a different man. None of these men married her either. When The Boy was 7 months old, she abandoned him with his paternal grandfather and continued bearing children for any man who was brave enough to enter. So, the boy was in his twenties when his father introduced him to his mother.
She moved into my home in October 2016. Less than two weeks later, The Boy lost his job. According to him, he did nothing. They just fired him. I believed him because he was my husband, and he had not given me any reason to doubt him. Now, remember, I did not have a regular job at this time. All I had was income from my blog, which was inconsistent. Sometimes, it was a lot, and other times, it was barely there.
For six months, the boy did not have a job. We survived on the chicken change from unemployment benefits and from my savings. I was (still am) excellent at saving, so although I was not officially working, I had money. Every month, I’d transfer the needed funds for the month’s bills.
In April of 2017, I went back to work. It was a position that fell into my lap. I did not apply for the job, and I was hired based on my writing skills on the blog. The position was a three-month contract position for a Communications Specialist. The contract was extended once, but I eventually lost the job in August of the same year. The Boy also started a new six-figure job in April, after I started mine.
Before he got the job, however, The Boy’s mother – shall we call her The Witch? – told him that she saw a vision from God, that God told her that his father was responsible for his job loss, that his father was mad that he brought her to America. Several times, The Boy and I had arguments over this issue. The so-called vision made no sense to me. I asked him, why would your father “attack” you now? He’s the one who sent money to your grandpa to take care of you. And he’s the one who filed for you to be in America. And you have been here all these years. Why would he do this now? And if truly he attacked you, how come you got another job? Has the attack worn off? I was told that I did not understand, that I grew up rich, that I was asking too many questions and speaking too much English, that I did not understand how Yoruba people act.
During his six-month unemployment period, his business partner called a meeting in which he basically kicked The Boy out of the company. The Boy told me that it was because his business partner (let’s call him Ade) had discovered that The Boy was building a house in Nigeria, in his mother’s village, Ogere, and the business partner was jealous. It made no sense to me, especially because this business partner was also his closest friend who had otherwise been extremely supportive. Again, I believed him, and against my better judgment, I silenced all the voices in my head that were speaking too much English.
About two years prior to this, Ade and his wife had unfortunately suffered a miscarriage. So, when Ade kicked The Boy out of the business, The Witch said she saw a vision from God, that God had told her that Ade’s wife would never conceive, that there was something in her belly that tied her womb up. The Boy rejoiced because he believed that this was a punishment from God to Ade. I prayed for Ade and his wife. I did not like him anymore because he was allegedly jealous of my husband for the house he was building in the village, but as a mom, I prayed that Ade and his wife would have children.
Side note about this house in the village: I saw it when I went to Nigeria in 2016. It was located in the middle of a swamp. There was no road to get to it, and we had to drive on heavy mud to get to it. It was so bad that when we got there, I refused to come down from the car in my shoes. I did not want to ruin my shoes in that mud. Someone else had to take their shoes off for me to wear. Sure, you may call me an Ajebota. I have learned to not be sorry for being an Ajebota. Yes, I am. The house was a complete mess. It was not going according to the blueprint, but I did not care too much because (1) It was located in the village of Ogere, and I knew I’d never live there, and (2) I was never in support of building this house. I wanted a house where I lived in Maryland.
While The Witch lived with me, she always saw visions for me. Like when she said I should not wear anything red for a certain amount of time. Or when she said I should ALWAYS obey my husband, no matter what. Or when even before she lived with me, she said she knew the gender of the baby we were having. We did not know Ada Verastic’s gender until she was born, but The Witch said she knew it. When asked what the gender was then, she refused to say. After she was told it was a girl, she said she knew it, that God showed her the color pink in a dream. The day she moved into my home, she looked out the window of her bedroom and said that she recognized the tree, that God had shown her that tree in a vision.
The Boy and The Witch got into serious arguments all the time, and I was left being a verbal referee. I figured they were clashing because she did not raise The Boy, and this was them – two adults – getting to know each other. Several times, The Boy threatened to bundle her back to Nigeria. I begged him not to. Once, I even got on my knees to beg. You cannot throw your mother out, I begged. Be patient with her, I pleaded. Be mindful of how you speak to her, I warned.
Things were changing between The Boy and I. Our sex life was almost non-existent. At first, it happened because of hormones from being pregnant and bearing a child, but soon, it became more. No matter what The Boy did, I could not get my body to react. My doctor said it was childbirth, that I should give it some time. I had absolutely no desire to have sex with The Boy.
It did not matter how he touched me or where he stuck his tongue, I was as dry as a desert. Lubricants became our norm. Still, the sex was passionless, uncomfortable, and sometimes painful. He complained, understandably. I also stopped initiating sex. How could I initiate that which I did not want? To appease him, I’d try to trick myself into being aroused. I’d watch porn to get me wet, then I’d run off to him to quickly “get it done” before the feeling disappeared, but there was no tricking my mind. My mind knew what I was doing, and it always snitched to my body, so by the time I’d get to The Boy, I was already back to square one: fucking dry. And then I’d feel guilty for watching porn. It was a continuous cycle.
In my house, The Witch saw many more visions. She told him that he’d be a king. Of where? I don’t know. He believed it so much that he said he’d be the biggest king in Nigeria, that he’d be so big that when presidents of other nations came into Nigeria, they’d come to pay him a visit before visiting the president of Nigeria, and that his throne would have a branch office in Aso Rock. Together, they’d obsessively watch videos of the Ooni of Ife, scrutinizing his looks. The Boy would tell his mother what kind of outfit he wanted at his own coronation, and she’d hail him, call him Kabiyesi. On his birthday in October 2017, I told the boy to kneel so I could pray for him. He refused to kneel, said that kings don’t kneel for people. I cannot make this up.
Long ago, I was in nursing school. I hated nursing school, but I quite enjoyed the clinical part of Psychiatric Nursing. We got to sit with the patients, listen to their delusional stories, and write about them (nurse’s notes). That was my favorite part. When that patient told me that she saw and spoke to the devil, I understood that she had a mental illness. Or I hoped it was indeed a mental illness anyway. But sitting in my own home, listening to The Boy and The Witch display their active delusions of grandeur, it was not funny or entertaining anymore. I was worried. Worried for my life. Worried for my daughter. Worried for my future.
The Boy told me to be excited that he’d soon go to Nigeria to claim his chieftaincy title (different from the kingship), that I, too, would be Chief Mrs. His-Last-Name. I was somewhere between amused and disgusted. First of all, I did not even have his last name. Second of all, I had never expressed any interest in being Chief Mrs. Anything. And lastly, I feared for the diabolical implications of a chieftaincy title. My fears were dismissed because again, I was an Ajebota who did not know anything. Oh, and he said that I would be respected by my Sweet Potatoes on IG once they knew I was a Chief Mrs, and I would wear a hat with a feather in it. Me, Vera? Hat with feather?
In August of 2017, we went for a traditional wedding. When we came home, we had an argument, and I don’t remember now how the argument started or what it was even about. He was really angry. I insisted that we talk about it, resolve it immediately, but he did not want to. I wouldn’t let him leave the room, so he hit me. Of course, I moved then. I screamed when he hit me – from the shock, not the pain. I barely slept that night. I cried, slept, woke up to cry some more, slept again, repeatedly. In the morning, I contemplated calling the police, but I did not. That day, we had to go to a wedding (the white wedding of the traditional wedding we attended the night before). It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had promised a friend that I would be there for this wedding. So, I went. My mind was not with my body that night. I’ll dedicate a separate post to this wedding. It will be titled, A Tale of Two Weddings (And One Dress).
The Boy never apologized for hitting me. But weeks later, when I “recovered,” I brought the conversation up. I told the boy that if he ever put his hands on me again, he would get a different response from me. He said he hoped I never “made” him do it again.
In November 2017, the boy traveled to Nigeria. It was a “business” trip. Against my advice, he had built an app. He got a credit card, hired developers in India and max’d the card out. He said the trip was successful, that “people” knew his name now. I did not and still do not know who these people are.
When he returned from Nigeria, I cooked some vegetable (efo) soup and some fried rice. I assumed he’d eat the efo because he never picked rice over efo. To my surprise, he chose to eat the rice. I thought nothing of it. I assumed that he was possibly fed up with eating efo in Nigeria. But he was acting really strangely. He slept with the lights on. He wore a long white gown that I had never seen to sleep. He was on edge, irritable. We had an argument and he finally told me why he was mad at me. It was because when I came to the airport with Ada Verastic and The Witch to pick him up, he said I let The Witch push the cart with his luggage on it. I asked him, who owns the cart and who owns the mother? If you did not like her pushing the cart, why didn’t you stop her?
Let me rewind back a little bit. While The Witch lived with me, the only job I asked her to do was to take care of my baby. I never asked her to do dishes or cook, or do laundry, or clean anything. She chose to do those things herself, except the laundry. I did everyone’s laundry. Apart from her puff puff, I never ate anything The Witch cooked in my house because she could not cook worth a damn.
Before I went to her house in Nigeria, the boy forewarned me, told me that his mother could not cook, but that I should manage the food. He has told a lot of lies, but this was not one of them. I nearly threw up in my mouth. My mom begged me to pretend to eat. I could not. I told them I was full, that I had just eaten. It was a lie. I was starving. In my home, I told The Witch that if she ever did not feel like eating what I had in the fridge, she was welcome to cook anything. And she did. She cooked egusi with meatballs seasoned for pasta. The stench of the flavors mixed together was nauseating. She ate yam with peanut butter. I could not care less. I only had one request: that the food not be fed to my child. Her son, however, was free to eat whatever she cooked. He didn’t.
She made side comments about The Boy only wanting to eat my food. She questioned where I bought my clothes, said she wanted my type of clothes. She asked what lotion I used, that my skin was too fresh. She asked why I had so many clothes, shoes, and jewelry, and was I selling them. Once, I pricked my finger on a piece of dry fish and it began to bleed. She said, “Ah, Mommy Ada, see as your blood is smooth.” Funmie’s mom said I should have said, “Yes, it’s smooth, but it’s very bitter. In fact, you cannot taste it.” Funmie’s mom is savage.
Too many times, she expressed her awe of me. She could not believe I ate corn flakes as a child. Or that I was born in Russia. Or that I had never eaten certain mixtures, like meat and garri. Or that I had never bought fish crumbs on the roadside in Nigeria. Or that I disliked the smell of fish. Or that I did not eat the organs of meat (like the kidneys, heart, eyes, etc). Or that my mom had a food menu for each week. Or that my mother worked and had a car. Or that I refused to tie iro and bubu (wrapper and blouse). She even made a comment about how my daughter only loved her mother (me). Before nko?
After The Boy came back from Nigeria and we had that argument, I refused to give in. I’m not a fighter. I tend to always end the fight first because chaos is uncomfortable. This time, however, I refused to yield. One day, another argument ensued and I asked him if he was still interested in this marriage. He shouted no. I said, say no more. I went into our bedroom, called my aunt, and said, “Aunty, my marriage is over.” And because my mother did not raise a fool, I immediately packed up all the documents that meant anything to me (passports, social security cards, birth certificate, documents for my car, etc), and I took them out of the house.
He found out about a week later. He confronted me in the living room. I confirmed that I took them. He asked what was supposed to happen to us now. I told him that I had given him everything I had to give him, and that I was empty now. I told him I had worked for the marriage as much as I could, and that now, I was ready to meet him wherever he wanted to go. The Witch was in her room, and her door was open, so I knew she could hear us. I told him that love was the only reason why we were where we were. If I did not love him, The Witch would not be under my roof. At most, I told him, she would be my mother’s help – if my mother would have her. I ended my speech by telling him that he and his mother were not on my level. Sometime in the future, he tried to get me to recant what I said about them not being on my level, but I refused. He patronized me, said I must have said it in anger. Nope. I told him I said what I meant and I meant what I said, and I was standing by my words.
By the way, before all this, I suspected that he and his mother were discussing me, so I started recording their conversations. I don’t speak Yoruba, so they spoke freely in front of me. I got so much dirt on them. I’d send the conversations to my Yoruba friends, and they would scream and interpret.
In one conversation, for example, The Witch told The Boy that I had gotten too big for them, that they needed to clip my wings. In another conversation, The Boy told his mother that he would kick me out of the house if I did not leave, and The Witch supported, said yes, that is what you must do. In another conversation, he spoke very disrespectfully about his father, and The Witch said she would deal with The Boy’s father. The boy agreed. I recorded them for weeks and did not react. If I had said something, I’d have lost access to my data and receipts, so I played their game, pretended not to know what they were saying, kept them talking.
This story is a lot, so I’m jumping all around and writing things as I remember them. That day The Boy hit me, The Witch did nothing. She said nothing. The weeks The Boy and I were not talking, she said nothing and did nothing. One day (after I took the documents), she called a meeting to ask what the problem was. That entire conversation was recorded. I played along with them, pretended to be having a meeting with them. The Boy screamed, NO WOMAN WILL CONTROL ME IN MY HOUSE! Then The Witch asked why I took the documents, if we were fighting. I responded, No, this is war. But I did not tell them what I knew.
Thanks to the recordings, I knew she was traveling to Chicago to visit The Boy’s aunt. They did not tell me and did not intend to tell me. But that day, on December 19th, 2017 when the boy returned from work and was ready to go drop her off at the airport, I asked her where she was going. She said she was going “somewhere” for Christmas. I asked, “Won’t you take the rest of your things?” I advised her to take her things because that day was going to be her last time in my house. My blood was boiling, Sweet Potatoes. I smacked my palm on the table and dared her to try me. I would finish her if she returned. That day was the last day I set my eyes on her.
The Boy asked if I was asking his mother to leave. Iya mi? He asked. Yes. He took her to the airport. On his way back, he stopped at a friend’s house. Let’s call him John. Meanwhile, John had called him several times in the past few weeks, trying to talk to him about our situation. In one of the recordings I had, The Witch is telling him not to go to John’s house. On this day, however, he goes to John’s house and apologizes for not calling him back, says that he was sick. Little did he know that John was one of my interpreters, that John already knew he was lying, that John had already heard The Witch telling him not to come. The Witch had even reigned curses on John and his family.
While he was at John’s house, I got a sudden urge to search The Witch’s room. She had two pieces of luggage, both locked. I went into the laundry room and brought the hammer. I broke the lock of the first luggage. In it, I found his degrees. He had hidden them there after I took my own documents. I also found a worn, dirty underwear that belonged to The Witch. I did not understand why she’d save that there, but I zipped the luggage back up and returned the hammer. I walked out of the laundry room and felt in my spirit that I needed to open the second luggage. So I went back, got the hammer, and broke the second lock. It was full of clothes. I almost zipped the bag and walked away, but I decided to move some clothes around. And that was when my heart almost left my body.
Juju [Voodoo]. A calabash with feathers on it. Two bottles of black liquid. Two bowls with unknown substances in them. I did not open to see. I was freaking out!! I had never seen juju when it was not on a TV screen. Yet, here it was, in my home, in 2017. I tried to take a picture on my phone. My hands were so shaky; I took a video instead. In it, I’m screaming blood of Jesus! I eventually took a picture. I called The Boy’s father. He screamed on the phone, said “This woman wants to kill my son!”
His father said he was on the way. Meanwhile, the boy came home with John in tow. When he came home, the first thing he did was go into his mother’s room to check on her stuff. Then he came back to the living room where John tried unsuccessfully to talk to us both. I was livid. I was shaking. Angry. Confused. I called The Boy a fool, amongst other things. He looked shocked, I had never called him names. In all the years we were married, I never called the boys names, never insulted him, even when he said unkind things to me, but today, the gloves were off, and I realized that it was impossible to speak to him any other way.
When the boy heard me talking to his father on the phone, he said he was leaving, that he was not going to be told what to do in his own house. I called his father back, told him The Boy was leaving. He said I should show him the luggage then. I ran into The Witch’s bedroom and dragged the luggage out. I opened it in front of The Boy and John, told him to see what his mother was doing. What I expected was for the boy to jump back in shock, scream Blood of Jesus like me. Instead, the boy defended it, tried to convince John that it was not juju. By the way, John is a full-blown Yoruba man, so of course, he knew it was juju. Sweet Potatoes, the shock of The Boy defending the juju was more than the original shock of finding it.
John refused to look at the juju, lest he be blind. In his anger and humiliation, The Boy pushed me hard. This time, I was ready for him. I called 911, told them I wanted to report an assault. The boy dragged his mother’s luggage – the one with the juju – and fled. Police came and took my statement. Then they put out a warrant for his arrest. His father came too, looking tired and hurt. This was his son.
The next day, I called the security company and changed the code on the alarm before heading out to court to file a protective order. I knew nothing of what this order was. The police had asked me the night before if I was going to file one and I said yes. They told me where to file, and I headed there the next day. I was with Ada Verastic; she was just two months over two years old. She was bored and restless in court, and I had to stand before the judge to explain why I was asking for this protective order. It was granted temporarily. When I was walking out of court, the security company called me, “Ma’am, there’s a disturbance at your house. Your alarm is going off. Should we dispatch police?” They asked. And I said, “Yes. I’m not home. There’s an intruder.”
Before I got home, two policemen were there already with the boy standing outside. Ada Verastic had fallen asleep in the car. I told the police that I had to take my sleeping child inside; it was cold outside. By the time I came back out, The Boy was in handcuffs – not because the alarm went off but because they had checked their computer and found the arrest warrant from the night before. He was taken to jail where he spent the night. All hail the American system.
We went back for a final protective order hearing about three weeks later, and I was granted the protective order. The Boy and I met in his friend’s house before the court day. Let’s call his friend, Tunde. We met at Tunde’s house. The boy was asking for forgiveness, said he wanted his family back, asked me why I called the police over a “small family matter,” and why I took him seriously when he said he did not want the marriage, that it was said in anger. But it did not matter what he wanted or how serious he was. I was done. I had had enough. There was nothing worth fighting for. If I had fought for the marriage and we had ended up staying married, it would have still been a loss to me. A hundred percent of nothing was still nothing.
So, I did not believe a word he said when he apologized. Unlike before, I was not believing him blindly. I asked him about the juju and he said it was his, that he brought it for his “political protection and breakthrough.” Reason number 74733456920 why Nigeria is the way it is. This is what the politicians are made of. He also said the juju was from God, that it was our culture. I asked him what God he was serving, and he said we had the same God. Impossible. And yes, that entire conversation was recorded too.
Let me back up here and tell you a bit about Tunde. I met Tunde through The Boy when we started dating. They were very close, and as far as I could tell, Tunde was a good friend. In 2017, before The Boy traveled to Nigeria, Tunde first traveled to Nigeria. I told The Boy to tell Tunde to bring me back some Knorr cubes. The Witch requested that he bring her back some pain medication from the pharmacy. Tunde came back to Maryland with neither the Knorr cubes nor the medication. The Boy called while on his way back from Tunde’s house to give me the news. I was disappointed because Knorr cubes are a lot cheaper in Nigeria, but it was no big deal. When I told The Witch, she was so angry. She was cursing Tunde, saying things will not be well for his family. Ah, ah. On top of Knorr cubes? I did not understand the anger, especially considering that she was not the one who would have to pay for it at the African store. I tried to calm her down, but she would not be tamed.
When The Boy returned, she put on an award-winning performance that had my jaw on the floor. As soon as she heard him walk in, she burst out crying. He went to her, they were speaking Yoruba and I wasn’t paying attention. I assumed she was venting to him the way she did to me. I figured he’d tell her to calm her ass down. He came out smiling. He said, “Tunde tried me.” I asked him what that meant. He said that while Tunde was in Nigeria, Tunde went to the babalawo/dibia/voodoo man and that Tunde took his (The Boy’s) name there, but that Tunde failed in his conquest. Apparently, Tunde was jealous of him. And yes, The Witch saw it all in a vision.
Sweet Potatoes, I was stunned. I tried my best to reason with The Boy, but it was null and void. Why would Tunde “try” you? How come she did not mention this vision before she requested the medication? What is it you have that everyone wants to take from you? Excuse my pride, Sweet Potatoes, but as far as my eyes could see, I and Ada Verastic were the only things he had that were worth taking, and Tunde was definitely not trying to take us.
And that was how he began to withdraw from Tunde. Still, on the day that he got arrested, Tunde was the one he called to complain that I got him arrested for “no reason.” And The Witch was in Chicago when the arrest happened. Tunde was also the person that she kept calling to beg me to release her son. Now, would a mother call someone who allegedly wants to destroy her son? Tunde was also the one who opened his home up for us to meet. That was where The Boy admitted that the juju was his, and that was where I recorded the conversation. Eventually, he completely cut Tunde off. Tunde, being a good friend, tried to beg me to forgive The Boy, even if he did not deserve to be forgiven. But one day, Tunde called and said that I should do what I thought was right, that he did not want to mislead me to be with The Boy, that The Boy was not okay.
Let me fast forward to the criminal trial. Because I called the police for assault, the court subpoenaed me to appear in court as the State’s witness. The trial was in March 2018. I showed up late in court (long story), and The Boy was clearly not expecting me to show up. In his panic, he asked for the case to be rescheduled. When a reason was demanded, he said it was because his witness had not shown up. He had to give someone’s name, so he gave John’s name. John was the friend who was present when he pushed me.
The case was rescheduled for May 2018. This time, John was present, and so were my aunt and my friends (Funmie, Ibukun, Lisa, Jemela, and Tasha). In the March trial, Ibukun was the only one who could make it. The State’s Attorney offered The Boy a deal, said that if he attended an anger management program for abusers, it won’t show up on his record. It was offered several times. The Boy turned it down as many times. John pleaded with the boy, but he refused to listen. Eventually, the case was called, and The Boy went on the stand and told all kinds of lies. He said that I threatened to harm him and his mother and that he was sleeping when he heard me telling my friend that I wanted to destroy my husband’s life. John was called to the stand and he said what he saw.
In the end, the Judge said he relied heavily on John’s testimony. The Boy was found guilty of second-degree assault. That anger management class he turned down was now a requirement for him to do AND it would now be on his record. It’s all public information. Google for yourself and see.
Sometime after our separation, I found out why The Boy was acting weird when he came back from Nigeria. It was because his mother had told him to go to her personal juju/voodoo man, and the juju man had told him that I was fighting him spiritually, that I was the cause of his setbacks, that I was controlling him with juju, that I was putting something in his efo, that I was using his star and destiny (which explained why all these people knew me. By the way, you people – Sweet Potatoes – were part of my problem. How did you know me, if I was not using his star to shine?
Other things I was accused of: I thought I was better than them (honey, but I was/still am). I refused to eat Titus fish (but it’s stinky, and I don’t like fish). My doctor parents are intimidating (is it my fault that my parents chose education while his mother chose to be the community pussy of Ogere? No). I was not cooking (I suppose it was a ghost cooking all the food they were eating).
There is so much I have left out of this story. Some issues deserve a post of their own – like our money issues. The more he made, the more he spent, and the broker he became. There’s also the part about the weird things I did and felt while he was in Nigeria.
But I want to say something about The Boy and The Witch. Things did not work out the way I planned, but I did love The Boy. I even loved The Witch. I knew she was fake, like the way she always knelt to greet my friends (what kind of elderly Yoruba woman kneels to greet “children?”), but I was blindsided by the juju, and while I did not think she loved me like her child, I certainly did not expect the backstabbing, did not expect her to push the boy into his doom.
If you are tempted to feel pity for me, please don’t. The story is sad, yes. but it is how my marriage ended, not how I ended. I’m still here, only stronger now. I am unable to fully elaborate in this one post all the emotions I have endured in the past two years. But I have found out for sure that God is on my side, that He loves me ferociously, and that I am divinely protected because His hedge of protection surrounds me. I was fighting a war that I did not even know I was in.
Now, let me answer your question: where are things now?
The Boy’s father and brothers: They are doing GREAT! Our relationship has become better, stronger, and more intimate since The Boy exited our lives. They know Ada Verastic, and she knows them. We spend lots of quality time together. In the past two years, two brothers have gotten married, and one has become a father. Ada Verastic and I were present for all of it. I was the MC at the baby shower and Ada Verastic was a flower girl at one wedding. Throughout this entire ordeal, they have stood by me and loved me and supported me. Most importantly, they have loved my child.
Tunde: Tunde and his family have moved out of Maryland and relocated to another State. I have not spoken to them in a while, but I believe they are all well.
Ade: I called Ade after the separation to ask him the real reason he kicked The Boy out of their business. He said that The Boy was owing him thousands of dollars, that he was not participating in the business, and that when they went to Nigeria together, he found out that The Boy was diabolical and he was not comfortable with being in business with such a person. You see how your girl was carrying last on all fronts? Anyway, remember The Witch said his wife couldn’t have a baby. I’m very pleased to announce that Ade and his wife are parents now.
The Boy nko? Since the separation, he lost his job for almost a year. His car was repossessed. His license was suspended. He owes me almost twenty thousand dollars in child support. Creditors are calling me and his family, trying to find him to pay them back. Ndi Creditors, leave me alone, please. You see my armpit? There’s no hair in it. Vera is out.
And me? Since the separation, I have moved into my aunt’s house (yes, Aunt Chinelo), and it has been a gift from God. At first, I moved here because I could not afford to get a place in the area I liked and still be able to take care of Ada Verastic on my salary. Now, I can afford a place (shit, I can afford two places), but living with family has been priceless. I’ll still move though. I have gone back to sleeping at night. My peace has been restored. I swear I have aged backwards. I found out through a practical experiment that my vagina isn’t broken, and that’s where I’ll leave that! *WINK* And the icing on the cake, I have almost tripled my income. By the way, I have also solely taken care of my child and ALL of her needs since the separation (by God’s grace and provision).
In February of 2019, I filed for divorce. My lawyer was a nice, older white man, but he wasn’t aggressive enough, so I had to fire him. Instead, I hired a young, Igbo chic who had the reputation of being a shark. She cost me more in one month than the other lawyer cost me in 10 months, but she got it done. My divorce was final in October 2019. I am free.
There are two things I need you to do for me right now. The first is to thank God on my behalf. No, really, please do. Can you imagine what these heathens tried and failed? Can you imagine what would have happened if God was not looking out for me? Can you imagine how this story would have gone? Even as I type this paragraph, my mind is being flooded with details that I have left out. This post is already too long. You’ll read more stories in shorter post forms in the future.
And the second thing I need you to do is to share this post. On Facebook. On Twitter. On LinkedIn. On Whats App. On Skype. Everywhere. Loud it. I am not ashamed of this. In fact, I have become cocky since this incident because I discovered that God is on my side.
I remember reading one of those inspirational IG posts. It said, “When you’re in a dark place, you tend to think you’re been buried. Perhaps, you’ve been planted. Bloom.” Sweet Potatoes, I have been blooming. Over-blooming sef is worrying me right now. I have grown and stretched so much in the past two years. I can barely recognize myself.
Sweet Potatoes, thank you again for your love and support. Thank you for standing by me and waiting for me while I got my life together – although you people are proof that I have stolen someone’s star. God bless every one of you.
P.S. My birthday is on Tuesday, January 14th. If you see the new pictures I took ehn! In fact, I’m salivating for my own self. You just wait and see. All of you will propose marriage immediately. Every last one of you. Man, woman, and dog, you’ll all want me. Not to worry, there’s enough of me to go around.
SHARE. THIS. STORY.
She’s back! Oh yes..finished reading and instead of being sad I got up filled with strenght shouting yes! She is back.. Gods Got you dear.
Oh myyyyyy. How am I just discovering her. I love her. Must have taken a lot of courage to go through all that and still come out unbroken. Her humor had me rotfl. Me I want you already oooo. I don’t need to see picture lmao
Reading your narrative literarily puts one’s heart in one’s mouth. What an escapade! But “I swear I have aged backwards” is the part that is most gratifying. I’m so glad you got out safely with a much better life than you went in.
Like you say, I thank God for your life and also your ability to find new growth. It can only get better from here. Stay safe ✌
Wow!
Thank God for your life and the courage to take a decision! Your best is yet to come. In Jesus name. Amen
I can’t believe I finally finished radong this. O thank God for your life Vera. God fights battles we are even unaware of. Chinese nke a do egwu. Kai.
I knew something was wrong with your marriage from 2 years ago )being an ardent reader) because you kept pacing us. But I couldn’t have ever imagined it was this truamatic and scary.
May you remain happy all the days of your life. I love the part where you are bonding with ‘the boy’s father and family there. So lovely. God bless you dear. (Tight hug)
Damn auto correct, I know you meant chineke nkea di egwu
Reading your story literally leaves one’s heart in one’s mouth. The line “swear I have aged backwards” is so encouraging and proves you’ve got better days ahead of you.
wow! What a story.
So thankful that you came out of this whole mess a stronger person. I wish you the best going forward; for you and Ada Verastic.
Happy Birthday in advance x
Nice story, nice write up, hut some questions I will like to ask though….
Oh wow. Thank God you’re okay! <3
Verrrrrrrrraaaaaaaa!!!!
I am almost ashamed that it’s taken this for me to come back here.
I am so happy for you. You sound like you’re doing amazing.
Take care of you and Ada. Chukwu gozie gi.
Pheeew. . What a Story!
Wow! I was so glued i have never read a blog post this long. I thank God for delivering you.
http://www.stitchadress.com
I have to stan!
Always three sides to a story , your side, the other’s side and the truth.
Nne eh Vera. I’m speechless, for a post this long my mouth hung open the whole time. You are a living testimony that Efi na-enwero odudu, chi ya na achulu ya ijiji.. Whatttttttttttt. Those people wanted to kill you o. Nnem you dodged bullets.
I’m just glad you and Ada Verastic are fine
Reading this is like watching a Nollywood movie unfold! So glad you came out of this stronger, God is indeed faithful!
this is my first time here, I’m sorry for what you went through but I’m thankful to God for you and your child… keep being strong!
Ahhhhhhhh. Sighs. My chest. I’m weak, I’m speechless. Thank God for God sha. Whew
Wow. Verastic. Im grateful and thankful for you. And glad that you and Ada Verastic are okay o.
Praying that you will continue to thrive despite this setback.
What else can be worse than eating a tasteless egusi soup while reading thos Pie r that should have been titled ‘the rise and fall of Igwe”?
I was thinking that it should have been titled … The rise and fall of Igwe Or How Igwe became The Boy
Wow,
that was a long read, it felt like i was watching a movie.
Girl , you went through all of this and you came out stronger.
I kinda knew something wasn’t right all these while because you stopped posting and writing about THE BOY.
Thank Goodness you and AdaVerastic are doing great now.
God’s strength for you Vera.
Correction:
What could be worse than reading this while eating a tasteless egusi soup.
I’ve figured out all was not well from when the name “Igwe” disappeared from your writeups.
Who would have imagined that living in America no matter how long still doesnt change people’s attitude towards life.
I have many questions but I just wanna know what’s the genesis of his mothers predictions about him becoming the biggest king….
Well sha… this piece should have been titled ‘the rise and fall of a yoruba Igwe’.
You should sell this and make a blockbuster movie. But seriously God loves you. I am glad the worst is over and you are safe, free, thriving and happy. WOOOOOOOOOOW!!!!!!
My friend sent the link to this story to me and I’m happy she did. I have laughing and laughed. See Ehn, I can totally relate, I’m divorced too, ndi witches and sons everywhere. The witch and my own witch have very similar characteristics, I know they surely won’t end well!
Damn autocorrect *I have been laughing.
Wow wow wow, you’re blessed and favoured by God. Can you imagine the battles he fought for you even when you did not know what was going on.
I thank God you came out stronger than ever.
You go girl about he practical *😁
Wow story for the century!! Glad to see you’re back to form Vera!
Love from Toronto
Abi
Wow……so wow. You Vera are God ‘s special sweet potato. God fought battle you did not even know existed. Victory is sweet ehn and that will not seize in your life.
I love very much that you have a good relationship with ‘The Boys’ father and siblings, that is amazing.
Concerning “the Witch” she will definitely reap the works of her hand. such evil’. i am really looking forward to reading about her in the nearest future of how she dig her own grave but i have a feeling she is languishing already.
congratulation! this victory sweet me ehn.
Wow, God loves you.
ALHAMDULILLAH!!!! THANK ALMIGHTY GOD 🙏
My Sweet Verastic Omalicha!! Hmmmm…… From a Yoruba guy, I’m sincerely happy for u but mostly, thank ALMIGHTY God for u and Ada Verastic.
I no go say much now but remember, I be the first “candidate” for that proposal list o!! Lol
Stay Blessed Vera.
Luv u always.
Wow, that’s definitely a lot but I’m glad you made it out., not everyone is that lucky.
The Lord is with you Vera and He will continually fight for you. God bless.
Whoa! U’ve really gone through alot. I suspected something was wrong with ur marriage from some of ur posts but never thought it was this bad. Thank God for u and Ada’s life. I’m glad u’ve gotten ur life back together again. We look forward to a better 2020 *hugs*
Wow! At a point, I thought it was fiction until I read to the last statement.
Anyway, I thank God for the gift of life. And for the fact that I can still work here, I am happy. I wish you well.
Speechless 😶. I am happy at the end, you came out soaring.
My birthday is also Jan 14th (94)and I’m engaged to a white south African, I’m more scared about my family choking hand in my marriage cause he is an orphan.
Do you think things would have been better if the witch hadn’t showed up?
Wow just wow!
I thank God for your life and that of Ada Verastic. Love you Vera
The story is so surreal. So glad you came out safely.
Sister sister! I’m really and truly happy for you.
People dey see things for this marriage matter.
Wow!!! May God Light and protection continually shine on your path.
Verastic Sweedy, I knew something was up but I just suspected that you were pregnant or something. It’s a shame that your marriage ended the way it did but thank God you are hale and hearty. God can heal a broken heart.
I must applaud you for treating the boy and his mom as individuals seperate from their tribe.
I wish you all the best
Wow! Some things are indeed stranger than fiction. Who says “your blood is smooth”??! Thank God for keeping you and Ada Verastic. I went through a range of emotions reading this..you are definitely back stronger. You still have your sense of humour. Hallelujah the vagina is not broken lol keep it well for a well deserving KING because you are a queen who knows her worth. I wish you and Ada a fabulous year filled with lots of love and happiness
Wowww. This is so much. Don’t even know how I got in here and read all this but I’m glad I did.
Veruchka! I have not been on your blog or read your blog post in years but after reading this I still cant pick up my jaw.
God doesnt leave his own. 😇😇😇😇
PS: Thank God for good friends (Funmie and co) and a good support system.
PPS: but you don popular tey tey before you use star now? From hotmail group, to blogspot to verastic.com, so wetin you use star do? Play suwe or ten ten?
This part! Shes been popular from way back. Waayy before I started my blog in 2010. She even hosted that online radio show.
I’m happy you came out victorious Vera
We’re always here for you. Glad you’re finally telling your story and picking up the pieces to move on.
VERAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OMG!!! I HAVE GOOSE BUMPS AND FEELINGS OF DEJAVU ALL AT THE SAME TIME!!
Nne we are celebrating our liberation/birthday together!! (I’ll hit you up with details) LOL… And then I can tell you my own story because it feels like we were both living through the same hell at the same time, but LOOK AT GOD!!!!!
I am so happy for you. Thank God you came out victorious because that was a war. I pray for continuous strength from God for you.
I’m glad you pulled through all of that and you’re whole.
PS: slut-shaming his mother doesn’t make your experience more valid. There was no need for that.
God bless you.
That’s not slut shaming, it’s a fact. You have no idea what she went through. I totally get her because I also experienced something similar in my marriage. Pls let her speak oh.. no need to shut her up
Supported. she didn’t even slut-sham, she described it just the way it was.
Even if she does, allow her vent oh
I agree with you that it does not validate Vera’s pain in any way to shame her former mother-in-law.
Vera, I am somewhat disappointed that you used the unfair labels that men typically use to bring women down when they have no means to justify their actions, i.e. refer to women as witches, their sexual history and inability to cook and clean. Believe me, I understand your pain. I won’t blame your mother-in-law for the breakdown of your marriage. Her son was and is the guilty party. He chose not to hold up his end of the bargain. He chose not to be a good husband. He could have stood up to his mother, instead he played the tired game that so many Nigerian husbands in “the abroad” play-claiming I will not take this in my house, I am a Nigerian man, blah, blah, blah.
I still feel/hear the pain in your voice as you tell your story. I hope you find peace and a civil way to co-parent your beautiful daughter.
Wow!!!!! Thank God his mother came when she did. That was the kick start in all God had to reveal to you . Congrats on your rebirth!!!! I’m so happy you and Ada Verastic are doing great. Love from a loooooong time reader.
What a story!! I was reading and playing it in my head (mama G playing the witch)
I thank God for you, for every victory, for all the unseen and seen battle that he won for you. I thank God for your Sanity. This is my first time of hearing about you and reading your blog. And i love you already not just because of the story but i can see through your narrative how strong you are. May God continue to strengthen you and keep you in His loving arms. Sending you all my love and tight hugs
Gosh! I love you! Thank the universe you got out! So proud of my Nigerian women taking the bull by the horn and getting out of situations that don’t serve them! BLOOM LADY, BLOOM! Much love!
After the reading your story Vera, all I can say is thank God for you. Thank God that you were not consumed by the enemy(the witch).
The Lord that delivered you from her will deliver the boy too because she really wants to destroy him like his father said.
Am happy you are back and stronger.
May God’s grace continue to function in your life.
God has definitely got you. I am happy you are out and doing well. May you continue to soar. Kisses to Ada Verastic.
Not to be a prophet of doom, the first time she appeared in your weekly vlog I had this feeling that was the end of your marriage. Sorry it actually happened. One thing I have noticed about Ogun State Mother in laws, if you are not from there state you are in for a big trouble. Sending light and love to you. Wishing you all the best huggzzzzzz.
Thank God for you. You have so much ahead of you.
Welcome back!
Vera…
Wow
I stan
You are A-amazing and God’s got you
Wow..I’m shocked but im glad God stood by you and fought for you. I’m so grateful to God for you and Ada verastic. I’m full of praises to God who saw who through.
I totally knew something was wrong in your marriage and I always prayed for you. There’s another blogger B****(you both are friends) who I’m sure is going through the same phase and I pray she pulls through also.
Thats just crazy. But it goes to show that you never know what God is protecting you from, preparing your for or defending you against! I’m just glad you and Ada Verastic have come out of this situation safely and stronger than ever!
Vera is BACK! Enough said. You were sorely missed.
All I gotta say about this story is, it is indeed true that if God is for us, no one can be against us.
I am so happy for you. “From practical experiment..” your vagina isnt broken as thought.
You are strong. Wishing you all the best going forward.
You’re phenomenal!
My birthday mate🤗🤗
So sorry about this, all I will request is to focus very well on your mental health and well being… It takes a while to heal in this unfortunate situations..
The Lord is your strength…
It is well
Hi Vera, This is the first time I’m coming across your blog and i must I’m happy i did. Thank God for you. His mercies shall continue to be with you.
By the way, we are birthday buddies. I turn 25 on January 14th. Happy birthday to us
Vera I read all without leaving any out,all I have to say is thank God and I pray that God will always be with you and my princess and happiness will never leave you……
Jesus! Vera… i thank God for you..phewwwwwww. i dont even have worda to say.. i join u to thank God
This broke my heart. I’m glad you survived. Stay strong. God be with you and daughter always
First time reader. Have come to stay. Such a touching story but glad you found the courage to walk.
Your writing voice is back.
Surviving and thriving proves that this can only be God.
Wow!!! I have no words. Thank God you made it out.
Reading this brought tears to my eyes. You are a strong woman.
If it had not been God who was on your side! Smooth blooded Vera! It’s a shame he didn’t realise his mum was envious of the life and marriage he had. Ah Igwe! Pet name turned into delusion of grandeur. King of Nigeria. Pele Vera, you emerged, you survived. Welcome back.
Welcome back Verastic!!
Excited to hear the life and joy back in your notes. Over the years.. I knew there was a story to share in the fullness of time..
What an experience. I thank God immensely for you.
God has lifted you.. Keep Rising and Shining!!
Chi m o! Verastic nwannem oooo! Chai! Blood of Jesus! I kept screaming that till now! Vera oo! Just keep thanking God! Truly unfortunate but it could have been worse. Pls take good care of your self and beautiful Ada verastic!
Hey Vera, it’s been a minute. Kinda figured you were going through some stuff but was confident you’d be ok to talk about it at some point. I’m happy you’re happy now. God bless and keep you and the lil one!
Regards,
David. ( One of your oldest fans from the yahoo messenger group chat era. Got to know you through Babasola)
I know Versatic from my circa 2005 blogging days. But truth is, this story did very little for me. Not worth writing, not worth reading. Never a fan of washing dirty linens in public; one or both sides. Take the L and go in peace. Marry your kind, marry your friend, stay woke. Peace!
Beautiful. I’m so happy you came out of that shit hole. You even came out stronger. We really don’t know the stuff we are made of till we are tried and tested by life.
I wish we all had the balls to do this.
You’re an inspiration.
Jesus…. Vera… my goodness, talk about spilling the beans…
I’m really glad you survived it….
I didn’t believe I was glue to my phone to read this long story, in fact this the longest I have read in my life because I hardly read long stories like this.
Sweet Potatoes!!!
Thank GOD everything ended well for you.
I’m short of words,. All I can say is thank God for your life, it can only be God. He brought you out with His mighty hands out of the den of the wicked. Praise His Holy Name!
Happy Birthday in advance
Glad to hear you came out of this. Not so many are lucky. There is always light at the tunnel. Please know this could have happened from a man from any tribe not just Yoruba. I tell women once you see a mommas boy who won’t eat, drink, or breathe without his mom. Run for your life. I went through something similar. You will find the love you deserve. Karma always is golden. Congratulations on surging and getting a 2nd Chance. God is faithful
Hi Ada, 👋🏻
Wow.
That’s all I can say after reading this sad reality of life for the past 90minutes. 🙇
So sorry for what you had to go through in the hands of a “typical Yoruba mother-in-law that gets accomadated in the abroad”, lol.
Aje (witch) ni most of them. 💯
And considering the fact that she hasn’t been responsible since ‘The Boy’ was 7months old, sigh 🤦🏻♂️ I’m so happy for you ’cause she didn’t touch you and Ada Verastic.
May God continue to vindicate, protect and elevate you in Jesus name. Amen 🙏🏻
Best,
Boye.
P.S. – Hope you charge 7 figures for this amazing writing skills of yours? 😉😎
Wow!! I am rooting for you and Ada! This was an empowering story and I am so glad that you overcame all obstacles! You are strong and you are amazing! Coming from one Capricorn Queen to another !! My birthday is on the 13th ♑️✨
Vera Darling, this was so shocking and the details of it,?… My goodness! God will definitely continue to be with you on all sides. But, damn!!!! This was a lot.
I cannot wait for us to catch up soon.
Kudos to you for being brave and following your instincts. Sometimes truly the signs stare us in the face but we ignore them. I’m glad you came out unhurt and far much stronger, wiser and richer 😉
Hey Vera,
This is a lot to digest. I’m just glad that you got out of a situation that wasn’t healthy for you physically and spiritually. I had this odd feeling when I watched the video where you went to your MIL’s house in Ogun State with your mom……remember there was a prayer session?
Anyway, I thank God for you. Thank you LORD for keeping and protecting Vera. I thank God for your support system. I’m glad you’re not letting shame define you. That fear of what people will say/do is what keeps many Nigerian women shackled.
Looking forward to reading more from you in 2020.
My dear Vera, the Grace of God was and is still with you. Thank God you have both sense and brain to know when enough was enough. Many women lost their lives in this said marriage but because you are a daughter of Zion no harm can come to you and yours.
Sistah girl, all you got is Jesus, you and adaverastic, love yourself, be happy and live your life to the fullest.
God be with you always.
Whaoooo am stunned! God never leaves HIS own
I wish a lot more women will understand that marriage is not a go or die affair
In fact there is no marriage in heaven…..
Dump whatever threatens your sanity for real..
FYI my baby girl is Jan 14th also….. Happy birthday in advance
Hi there.
Great story! I must say.
It’s quite Sad we don’t get to know what happens to ‘The witch’ afterwards but regardless, if The Boy had no diabolical history whatsoever before his mother came into picture, then he wasn’t the enemy.
His mother, (knowing fully well that she had no good intentions)came for you both as a whole… say probably the marriage, who knows. She got him and the marriage but you were smart enough to save yourself from the deeds, and not the marriage.
My point- If he was indeed poisoned by ‘The witch’, (You know the kind of man you married and the kind he turned out to be afterward.), please do remember him in your prayers against the real enemy ‘The Witch’.
He could still be saved before the diabolical whatever eats deeper into him.
Thanks
I am still speechless… thank God for protecting you… I am a new reader but you just earned another follower…
Vera!!!! If it had not been for the lord on your side, where would you be? When the enemy comes pent up like a flood, the spirit of the lord will raise a standard against them. I rejoice with you Vera! Blessed be the God of your salvation!!! Phew! Chills! Jehovah overdo delivered you👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 May you always rejoice over the victory God have you over darkness!
Wonderful! Vera, my personal person that year. When I saw the title I thought it was about someone else until I saw our Ada Verastic inside. Shuo! Thank God for your freedom, is all I can say.
That’s a lot to go through! For all we single girls that are thinking that marriage is the babanla of life; think again o! Sometimes this single status God has kept you in may be saving your sanity, finances, dignity and maybe even your life! Is that why you stopped vlogging about your family life on YouTube? I have always preferred that lifestyle YouTubers don’t put their personal lives on display. My prayer for all parties involved is that God restore and heal everyone. It sounds you place alot of the blame on your mother-in-law though? Take it easy and take care.
Hmm what a riveting write up I am happy that you are alive, healthy and strong. To God be the glory that He delivered you from the fowler’s snare of the witch. For the sake of Ada verastic I pray that the boy will be delivered too and be able to sort his life out because He is also a victim of the witch’s divinations and machinations. Well done brave and strong woman. The Lord is with you.
“The Boy” is an ass (pardon my lingo) and he and his mama deserves themselves. It sucks that’s he’s unfortunately gonna be a stereotype for Yoruba men like myself especially to most ladies who read that story. Positively, I give thanks to God that you’re such a strong woman who despite loving “the boy”; was able to react wisely and act accordingly to get yourself out those ugly situations.
There’s a lot to be learned from your experience for married as well and singles planning for that life. While its sometimes great to have family around, the disadvantages outweigh its advantages when you factor the kind of diverse cultural backgrounds we come from. Marriage brings together 2 lovers and families of totally different backgrounds, upbringing and lifestyle so it takes a lot of works, understanding, genuine friendship and love and of course God because He alone is able to sort out some really knotty situations when every other thing fails.
You’re blessed to have a beautiful and adorable daughter, your family and your in-laws (father’s side).
I literally wept reading this. Thank God you’re in a better place and stronger for it. . . God keep you Nne.
I usually get bored from super long stories, but this one actually got me glued to the end. Nne the lord is with you. Good you free from the boy.
Wow.
Thank God. You are in a better place now. I am particularly concerned about the Boy,because it seems he does not know what he is doing, could be his mothers voodoo that also kept him that way. I mean how can you explain the sudden change in his behaviour after his mum showed up to live with him. I think both Vera and the boy are all victims of the mothers evil machinations and I pray that he be delivered too.
God is faithful and never leaves or forsakes. Thank God for his Mercy, Grace, Protection, Safety, Elevation and Provision. So happy that you are back ❤️
wow!. Sweet Potatoes!. Ur story is very similar to mine. The very much clear difference is that you are an already made woman. But I’m not yet(But I know I will be) I am happy you came out victorious. You Inspire me.
You are loved.
You and Ada verastic will be kept by God Almighty.
it will end in praise.
Let me get my ring ready to propose once pictures drop!!
Love that you called him “The boy” Lol. I went through something similar in my marriage …you come out of it broken but feeling brand new. Knowing exactly who you are. Imagine the kind of strength women have. So beautiful.
What in the????? *SMH* The boy is dulling sha…. his mates are using the whole chicken and he’s there using calabash and feathers…. lol….
j/k. So glad you are back Ms. Vera. Also glad that you are in a better space despite your trials and tribulations. Your honesty is refreshing and I commend you for realizing your self-worth and acting on it. Your line that ” there was nothing worth fighting for and that if you stayed in the marriage, it would have still been a loss to you, was very poignant. I wish a lot of women would realize this and act on it for their own wellbeing. There is No cost is too great for ones peace of mind.
I guess now that you are a single gal again, you are free to follow up that Date you asked Chimamanda on riiight? Maybe she will say yes this time. 🙂 If so,can I come?? lol…..
Welcome back Vera! Happy New Year.
I’ve missed you. Boy oh boy was that a story. I am glad you have overcome it and are thriving.
The story did not surprise me too much. I have a mother that is way more diabolical than the Witch. One day I may write about it. The witch is a narcissist/Boderline from the sound of it. She came to steal, kill and destroy.
My mother is Luciferian to the bone. A snake with fangs. And guess what? I had no idea as to the depths of her evil until 2-3 years years ago. The veil was lifted and I saw her for who she was. I have cut her out of my life completely and we haven’t spoken in 2 years. Best decision I have ever made. Literally. I am no longer naive in this world as to how every day people can and do avail themselves to be conduits for evil. I think the topic of evil and demonic possession needs to studied by all and sundry.
My mother has NPD. It is the White Mans acronym for demonic possession. My mother is perfectly possessed and there literally is no hope for her. Like Lucifer, she brings mayhem, confusion, separation, discord, acrimony and evil wherever she goes.
I made a mistake of bringing her permanently to America in 2016 and it was like living with the Devil. Vera, I understand your situation. I feel like I know you but I have never met you. You will thrive. You are already thriving. Kisses.
WOW… I’ve been reading you for a while so I figured something was up… but THIS story is beyond anything I ever imagined 🙁 I’m so sorry you went through this situation… I’m still speechless. God bless you and your daughter.
Awww!!!, Now i know best Vera, Well you are a strong woman and God will continuously to be gracing you throughout of your life. Just got to think of the quote says “When you’re in a dark place, you tend to think you’re been buried. Perhaps, you’ve been planted. Bloom.” That how God make we humans but most of us have the fear of passing through that process of been dead and raise again because the best way crops get to germinate and produce more. Well you are free from the bondage and Sky is your starting point dear friend.
But dear is the story for real?