It was in high school that I first realised how smooth my life was. I felt that it lacked some drama or excitement to spice it up. Everyone else admired its perfection so much that I bought into it myself. Little did I know what twists and turns awaited me in the near future. 

See, my childhood was cheerful. I had a mum who was always there, a dad who stimulated my mind, and even my younger sister, though annoying at times, added some fun to life. We lived in both the extremes of Kenya’s climate, so I enjoyed cool school days and warm coastal holidays.

I always felt out of place and struggled to connect with others. They labelled me as weird for having unconventional thoughts and opinions, (even some adults were baffled by me). I was an avid reader who enjoyed mystery movies and documentaries, horror thrillers, wrestling, football, the adventures of Sinbad, Tarzan and above all, my Lord and saviour Jesus Christ. If you share any of these interests, you’d understand why I needed a psychiatrist on speed dial.

But the naive girl in me viewed everything as a solvable problem, a surmountable obstacle and I confess, a lot of that optimistic perspective was distorted. I built a barrier around me where nothing could go wrong and what was already broken could be mended.

During those ideal years, as I watched people closely, I began to adopt fears that I found appealing on others. In my everyday life, I radiated confidence and nothing that would normally scare others bothered me. I would confidently face a crowd and express my views (I didn’t care if the other party was hurt as long as it was factual truth). I wrote scripts without worrying about criticism, wrote music believing I was the best at it, played games… well maybe not the games part because exercise was never enjoyable… but you get the idea.

As I studied other human beings, I noticed there was a certain normality in what I was not, and that was the only flaw in my flawless life; and so, the little girl traded her true self for a fake one to fit in with society. That’s what they call it. People pleasing or attention seeking. And ever since, many chapters of that girl’s life have been filled with these self-imposed fears that seemed amusing, but have turned into a dreadful reality for her future self.

As I immersed myself in what I assumed people expected of me, I silenced my own voice. The harder I tried, the more unnoticed I felt, so the more desperate I became to please. Sunk myself into an ocean of unrealistic expected demands.

It started with the little things. Who is anyone without a fear of heights? Ooooh stage fright looks really cool, I should try it! I should try getting shocked every time someone startles me. Maybe this is going too far so why not dial it back a little… oh they suffer from under-confidence? Why on earth don’t I suffer from that? Now I’ll look like I’m trying to be in charge… I should just shut up! I should stop tickling, that will make me real mature…

And the voices in my head kept getting louder and louder. Randy would understand. As the eldest child, when things seemed to fall apart in my pre-teen years, amid the hormonal shifts of adolescence, I felt compelled to step up and be the grown-up I was not ready to be at that age. But then again, I had always appeared so cool, calm and collected as far as anyone could recall. What no one noticed was the tyrant of a dictator was becoming quieter and lonelier by the day. What they failed to see was the girl I struggled to transform into for them had submerged the girl they gave birth to in an ocean of fears, anxieties and worries that were never hers to bear in the first place.

When I reached high school, I had turned into the perfect little angel they desired, but they still ignored me; at least the ones I desperately wanted to impress. Yet somehow, with my bright and cheerful demeanour, I exuded a simplicity to life. People would approach me and ask, “how do you know everything so well!” and in what I considered modesty I would usually answer, “manze ni God!” which was truly not a lie, but also not the complete truth.

Back then, everyone’s success seemed to have a dark and tragic backstory, and for some reason, I felt mine was not gloomy enough to deserve any success. I feared the ordeal of darkness, but I wish someone had shown me that there was also beauty in a story full of light. I longed to tell a powerful and authentic story. One that would touch people’s hearts. One that would lead people to God. I was very clear about avoiding a soap-opera drama so I deliberately kept my distance from boys. But the movies I watched as a kid, (some of which I honestly still love today; and oh, I forgot to mention all the animations and cartoons you can imagine), were the ultimate conglomeration that  shaped the hollynollybollywollywood that was my life.

When they said to be careful what you wished for, I didn’t think that guy could be that serious. I endured amnesia, insomnia, anxiety attacks, self-esteem issues, daddy issues, and all kinds of mental and emotional distress, as well as the more physical ailments like migraines, backaches, nerve flares, bell’s palsy, weight issues and many other agonising bodily consequences. Don’t forget, I still believed in Jesus throughout this ordeal. One of the things I still recall doing was reading the Bible as a senior in high school and wondering, “why me?” Sure, I brought it upon myself but honestly, “why did it have to be me?”.

In the midst of the storm, art became my refuge. I had always been creative, but after losing most of my memory, my artistic instincts awakened. God used those gifts to rescue me from the depths where I was sinking. I had to rediscover the girl He created me to be. I had to strip away the layers and remember my essence. The girl I thought was dead and buried was screaming for freedom. 

And now, I have a story to tell. The story of a young adult with an imperfect life. The girl with scars that mark her wounds but also her triumphs. The story of a girl who tried to walk on water by herself and realised it was impossible unless it was frozen… and even then too risky. The story of a girl who repeatedly tried to drown her true self so that others would notice her. The girl who was soaked in tears and dirt and shattered into pieces. The story of the girl who already had a story, but kept it submerged for too long, until the one who defies nature and logic called her out. Now I stand on water, unsunk. 

I still tremble, but I don’t fall. I watch His eyes as He watches mine with love ingrained in them. He reaches out His hand and I hold it. Even though water still surrounds me, I don’t sink. He pulled me up and I focused on Him to keep me steady. I may still feel all the things I taught my poor brain to feel: unwanted, unworthy, too much, too childish, too animated… but none of that matters anymore because I am above the water. I am UNSUNK and secure in my Saviour’s arms.