Addicted to Smokes, Drugs and Alcohol, Tosin's True Life Story

It’s truly a critical time in our society, especially for our impressionable youth. As you may know, addiction / substance abuse continues to be a major problem in Nigeria. Confronted with so many issues, many youth turn to alcohol and drug use and soon find themselves in the grip of addiction, an astronomically increasing epidemic which not only distorts / destroys the creativity and productivity of those it afflicts, but, more often than not, consumes them.

I am a case in point. My name is Oluwatosin Olaoluwa and I’m a youth in addiction recovery. I started smoking and drinking at the teenage age of 14 in my SS1. I started smoking cigarettes at the time as a result of peer pressure; smoking implied that I had attained a certain status, that I had become a “big boy.” From cigarettes, I migrated almost immediately to alcohol and eventually started experimenting with marijuana. At the time, my drinking and using was mild because my teachers and parent, my mum, checkmated me. However, once I gained admission to the University of Ado-Ekiti (presently, Ekiti State University, Ado-Ekiti), my story took a drastic and immediate turn. Without my teachers and my mum, my life began to spin out of control. Eventually my drinking and drug use led me to become addicted to alcohol, marijuana, and tobacco; Occasionally, I even used the pills, such as roche, and some other drugs.

Going through a 15 year addiction to substances, I experienced depression, despair, anxiety, the desertion of well-meaning friends, loneliness, isolation, and failure in different spheres of life. I lost relationships, lost jobs, mismanaged my mother’s finances, and created many other problems for myself and others. Finally, I had to deal with my mental malfunction: to do this, I had to drop out of school It had got to the point where I couldn’t function in the natural order of things. I had developed what I now call a warped sense of reality.

From 2007 to mid 2012 my life was like a pendulum, swinging from recovery to relapse and back again. During this period, I would manage to stay clean for a month, two months, even three months, but would inevitably relapse, losing the progress I had made to my addiction. I really wanted to be freed from my addictions, but I was powerless whenever the degenerative craze of my addiction took over. Many out there, like me, are in or have overcome similar (or worse) conditions. Many who are in the grips of addiction are unable even to reach out for help. Some don’t even know that their addictions are an albatross around their necks and of dire consequences not only to themselves, but to their families, loved ones and the society at large.

The cost and consequences of the addiction epidemic place an enormous burden on the society today. They strain the economy and the health-care system, while harming family life and threatening public safety. Addiction / substance abuse in our communities today have an astronomical cost from lost productivity, health-care expenditures, crimes, accidents, and other conditions such as the increasing “culture of violence” that substance abuse and addiction help fuel.

Having survived my almost deadly addiction to alcohol and other drugs through the grace of God, I am now committed to recovery. It has given me clarity of purpose and hope for the future, helping me gain stability in my life while reaching out to other addicts in order to be of service to them and thereby having the privilege of seeing many of them transform their lives. One of the primary ways I do this is through Addiction Recovery Campaign (ARC), a multi-dimensional initiative that promotes the hope for addiction recovery in our communities and seeks to change attitudes about addiction, serving as a reminder that recovery is possible through proactive, supportive interventions and strategies that help people– especially impressionable youth—lead new lives as God-driven, purposeful, constructive, and interdependent people who are free from addiction and who contribute to the well-being of our communities.

I end with these words, “The future isn’t something that just happens, but something WE MAKE happen. The decisions we make now, the actions we take now, shape the future.”

Written by Oluwatosin Olaoluwa.

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Filed Under: Infos, Inspirational Stories, Motivational Stories on Monday, 14 September 2015

5 Great Stories About Nelson Mandela’s Humble Feats, Kindness and Courage

Remarkable moments recalled by some of the people who knew him best according to Times South Africa.
ANC’s, South Africa’s governing political party, Deputy Secretary-General Jessie Duarte, who was his personal assistant between 1990-94:

“He always made his own bed, no matter where we traveled. I remember we were in Shanghai, in a very fancy hotel, and the Chinese hospitality requires that the person who cleans your room and provides you with your food, does exactly that. If you do it for yourself, it could even be regarded as an insult.

So in Shanghai I tried to say to him, ‘Please don’t make your own bed, because there’s this custom here.’ And he said, ‘Call them, bring them to me.’

So I did. I asked the hotel manager to bring the ladies who would be cleaning the room, so that he could explain why he himself has to make his own bed, and that they not feel insulted. He didn’t ever want to hurt people’s feelings. He never really cared about what great big people think of him, but he did care about what small people thought of him.”

South African photographer, Steve Bloom, whose father, Harry Bloom was a political activist:

During the 1950s my parents, who were anti-apartheid activists, knew Nelson Mandela. I remember the story he told them about the occasion he saw a white woman standing next to her broken car in Johannesburg. He approached her and offered to help. After fiddling with the engine he fixed the car. Thankful for his help, she offered to pay him sixpence.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” he said, “I am only too happy to help.”

“But why else would you, a black man, have done that if you did not want money?” she asked quizzically.

“Because you were stranded at the side of the road,” he replied.

Neville Alexander, a political activist who spent ten years imprisoned on Robben Island alongside Mandela, describes his first meeting with him:

“I was impressed mainly by the warmth and the genuine interest, which was a feature that, subsequently I discovered, is very much part of the man and something which I also must admit now, I learned from him … to give your full attention to your interlocutor, and really take notice of what people are saying, listen to them carefully. In his case, there was a spontaneous, charismatic exuding of warmth. That’s probably the most important, most vivid memory I have of our first meeting.”

Wolfie Kodesh, who hid Mandela for nearly eight weeks in 1961 in his apartment in a white suburb of Johannesburg:

“…We had a discussion and an argument about who is going to sleep where. I had a tiny flat … and I had a bed and I had a camp stretcher in a cupboard. So when I brought out the camp stretcher, I said to him, ‘Well, I’ll sleep on the camp stretcher. You sleep on the bed because you are six foot something, I am five foot something. So the stretcher is just right for me.’ No, he wasn’t going to have that. He hadn’t come there to put me out, and we had a bit of a talk about that and … it was arranged, and I would sleep on the bed.”

Rick Stengel, who spent almost two years with Mandela working on his autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom:

“In 1994, during the presidential-election campaign, Mandela got on a tiny propeller plane to fly down to the killing fields of Natal and give a speech to his Zulu supporters. I agreed to meet him at the airport, where we would continue our work after his speech. When the plane was 20 minutes from landing, one of its engines failed. Some on the plane began to panic. The only thing that calmed them was looking at Mandela, who quietly read his newspaper as if he were a commuter on his morning train to the office. The airport prepared for an emergency landing, and the pilot managed to land the plane safely. When Mandela and I got in the backseat of his bulletproof BMW that would take us to the rally, he turned to me and said, “Man, I was terrified up there!”

 The ultimate personality is found in the humblest of men, unfortunately not a lot of them can be found today. RIP Nelson Mandela

Filed Under: Infos, Inspirational Stories, Motivational Stories, News on Sunday, 13 September 2015

Beauty in the Eyes of the Beholder

While everyone was sipping on to their coffees and complaining about their in-laws, kids and husbands, I was engrossed in my phone. It was my husband, “You looked lovely today. Let’s go out for a nice dinner. Make your hair the way you did in the morning. Love you.” It wasn’t unusual for me. Our message thread was full of texts like these.Monsoons, a cup of hot coffee and the company of your friends, nothing can match this feeling especially when you are married and have two kids. Sometimes, I just wish I could run away from everything. Leave all these bonds and live by myself. I wasn’t one of those who run away from situations but my husband has turned me into one. He scares me and makes me hate myself.

If you ever read our conversations, you wouldn’t believe me when I say he is the reason I spend my nights crying, or when I tell you he gives me nightmares.

My husband has always fancied the way I look. He has a description for me that would be more like a delusion for people and not to miss the cheesy list of adjectives he uses for me that can drive anyone mad. “You are an apt example of a beautiful body, with not one aberration. Your smooth skin makes my hand glide the moment I touch you. The beautiful locks and curls that compliments your skin tone gives me butterflies. You have the perfect pair of eyes, big, bright, shiny, and full of mischief that makes me stare at you all day long. I was wrong in defining beauty until the time I saw you. You, my dear, are beautiful.”

Seems like a novel you are reading right? Husbands who have been married for seven years aren’t supposed to talk like that. It makes me feel unusual and weird, so I choose not to discuss it with anyone. These women who are my closest friends would call me crazy if I had shared this description with them. They would think I am a great story- maker but I wasn’t. This was all true.

To be honest, I am nothing like that. The mirror that I happen to see every day, reminds me that my husband is living a lie. I am not the radiant beauty my husband defines me to be. I am a house-wife, the mother of two kids. My face is not evenly toned. The skin beneath my eyes has turned dark due to my lack of sleep. Half of my nights are spent wondering about the woman my husband fancies and the other half are spent, putting my 10 month baby to sleep. My curves are nothing to show off, they are not full where they ought to be but are full as a whole.

My pregnancy left me a farewell present and that is why I cannot fit into anything that I owned during the first two years of my marriage. I agree about the hair and eyes but I don’t get a chance to enhance their beauty. My hair is always tangled and arranged into a bun. My eyes always long for some relaxation and cry out to the woman who appears in the mirror. I can’t even remember the last time I wore my stilettoes. I am not what my husband wants me to be.

My friends were discussing how their husbands made fun of their beauty and how they never complimented them. “Why are you quiet?” Kajal asked me. “Well, my husband never points my flaws out, he thinks I still look cool,” there I said it in the most casual way possible.

The women went crazy, “I think he is having an affair.” “What if he doesn’t give a f*ck about you anymore?” “Does he go out on business trips very often?” “When was the last time you guys made love?” I shouldn’t have told them anything. After a lot of discussion, it was time for us to go home. Kajal even shared the number of a lawyer, if things turned ugly.

I was fine with everything they said, but the affair part, was stuck in my head. Was he really having an affair? And is it her face that he is searching for when he looks at me?  The mirror tells me the truth. I wasn’t the beautiful woman I used to be.

My husband is either trying to look for someone in me or is too busy to notice the clear signs of aging on my face. My skin is always rough now, my eyes aren’t bright, my hair is not perfect and my curves have those extra kilos of fat. I often get depressed looking at myself in the mirror and then I get these texts from my husband.

It is as if he is making fun of my appearance but when I see it in his eyes, it all seems so very genuine just like it was in college when we fell in love. I asked him one day, “I don’t look the way you describe me to be. I used to but I have changed now.”

That’s when he dispelled my fears with one beautiful reply, “You are the same woman, the same beautiful woman I fell in love a few years ago. I know your eyes have dark circles beneath them, but I find them beautiful. You stay awake taking care of kids that are a part of BOTH of us. Your clothes have become tight and you complain that your weight has increased but these extra kilos symbolize that not just you but our family as a whole has grown. Your hair is not proper, you don’t take care of your skin but that doesn’t take your beauty away, it just adds to it. My description of you might just make you think I am crazy but I just want to remind you that you are gorgeous and this all this define you only. You can easily become what you were. Responsibilities are there but you also have a duty towards yourself. Work for it. You will always be the same beautiful girl I fell in love 9 years ago so please don’t work on your looks for me, work on them for you.”

I realized that day, it was true. I was the one who looked into the mirror and found myself ugly. Maybe I wasn’t, but then I used to miss those curves, those shiny eyes, my lovely hair, toned body, my dressing style, everything! I missed everything about myself.

I started working on myself and today when I look into the mirror I find a woman more radiant than I ever was.

I just wish husbands could be as supportive. I am glad that I was lucky enough to find one.

Filed Under: Inspirational Stories, Motivational Stories on Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Chain of Love

One day a man saw an old lady, stranded on the side of the road, but even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out.

His old Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her.

Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe; he looked poor and hungry.

He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill which only fear can put in you.

He said, 'I'm here to help you, ma'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm? By the way, my name is Bryan Anderson.'

Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough. Bryan crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt.

As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down the window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid.

Bryan just smiled as he closed her trunk. The lady asked how much she owed him. Any amount would have been all right with her. She already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Bryan never thought twice about being paid. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty, who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way.

He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance they needed, and Bryan added, 'And think of me.'

He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight.

A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude.

The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Bryan.

After the lady finished her meal, she paid with a hundred dollar bill. The waitress quickly went to get change for her hundred dollar bill, but the old lady had slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. The waitress wondered where the lady could be.

Then she noticed something written on the napkin. There were tears in her eyes when she read what the lady wrote: 'You don't owe me anything. I have been there too. Somebody once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here is what you do: Do not let this chain of love end with you.'

Under the napkin were four more $100 bills.

Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could the lady have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard.

She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, 'Everything's going to be all right. I love you, Bryan Anderson.'

Be Nice and Happy Sunday.

Filed Under: Inspirational Stories, Motivational Stories on Sunday, 30 August 2015