Sometimes, life puts you in messy situations where you’re not sure if you’re doing the right thing or not. That’s what Na Me F— Up? is about — real Nigerians sharing the choices they’ve made, while you decide if they fucked up or not.
At just 21, Amaka* is still grieving the sudden loss of her mum when her family places another burden on her. As relatives pressure her to become her sick dad’s full-time caregiver, she’s torn between meeting their expectations and protecting her mental health.
This is Amaka’s dilemma, as shared with Mofiyinfoluwa
My dad and I never really had a relationship. Growing up, my parents’ marriage was constantly unstable because of his lifestyle. He partied a lot and would disappear for weeks at a time without explanation. At some point, we even suspected he had a second family. He was emotionally abusive to my mum, and the atmosphere in our home was always tense.
As a result, my mum raised my siblings and me almost entirely on her own. She handled our physical needs and our emotional well-being. My dad only showed up financially, but not much beyond that.
In 2023, my dad suffered a stroke at home that left him partially paralysed. Doctors linked the stroke to his lifestyle and age. His condition worsened significantly when he suffered another stroke towards the end of 2024. This one was much more severe. He lost control of his bodily functions, his speech became impaired, and he lost consciousness of what was happening around him.
At the time, I was in my final year of university and couldn’t travel home often. My mum told my siblings, who both live overseas, and me not to worry. She said she would handle everything. She ran from hospital to hospital, took care of him mostly on her own, and never complained. I didn’t fully grasp how much strain all of that work put on her.
She had struggled with high blood pressure for years and was on medication. While caring for my dad, her health deteriorated quietly. On August 21st, 2025, someone called to inform me that my mum had collapsed and couldn’t get out of bed. I became anxious and started planning to leave school to see her by the weekend.
The next day, another call came. My mum had passed away.
I was in shock. I didn’t believe it until I arrived and saw her body myself. My mum, the person who held my entire world together, was gone. I felt anger and guilt simultaneously. Part of me felt like the wrong person had died, and I hated myself for even thinking that. I blamed my dad, even though I knew, logically, that it wasn’t his fault.
Relatives came around to help care for my dad while we planned the burial. My siblings were able to attend the burial in November, after which my brother returned to his job in the UK. Eventually, only my sister and I remained to care for my dad. We carried him, cleaned him, fed him, and watched him deteriorate daily. It was emotionally exhausting and deeply triggering, especially because I was still grieving my mum and hadn’t started to process her death.
As January approached, my sister started planning to return to her PhD in Finland. That was when the questions about what would happen after she left became unavoidable.
The thought of staying alone with my dad felt unbearable. I was still grieving and depressed, and knew I needed distance to heal. I planned to relocate for NYSC in January and started researching care homes in our city that offered round-the-clock care. They were expensive, but they existed. I genuinely believed that option would work better for both of us.
When I told my sister about my plan, she exploded. She called me heartless and accused me of wanting to abandon our father despite the fact that he funded my education. She reported me to our relatives, who called me a wicked child and insisted that our culture doesn’t allow children to place their parents in care homes while they’re alive. What shattered me was when my sister said that if it were our mum, I wouldn’t even hesitate to stay. My brother also sided with her and insisted that I remain, offering the alternative of hiring a caregiver to assist me.
What hurts most is that everyone else gets to return to their lives while guilt-tripping me into staying behind. I don’t have the emotional capacity to sacrifice myself the way my mum did.
Even though I still intend to follow through with my plan, the pressure keeps mounting, and I’m being crushed by guilt from every direction. I haven’t even finished grieving my mum, yet I’m being asked to prove my love for a father who was never truly there for me.
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