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.
Amaka* (20) is an only child who still feels babied by her mum. She began journaling to explore her feelings and trusted that her most private thoughts would stay hers until she discovered her mum had read them.
Instead of an apology, her mum has tried to get back into her good graces with jokes and plying her with her favourite treats. Now, Amaka’s wondering if her insistence on an apology has pushed things too far.
At the end, you’ll get to decide, did she fuck up?
This is Amaka’s dilemma, as told to Betty:
My mum and I have always been close. As an only child without other kids to play with, I naturally gravitated towards her. As I’ve grown older, though, I’ve tried to become more independent. My mum, however, still treats me like a baby she has to monitor closely. She treats the boundaries I draw like suggestions instead of rules. There have been instances where she has gone through my things without permission or even involved herself in disagreements I’ve had with my friends, even after I asked her not to. Each time she crosses a line, and I get upset, she refuses to apologise. Instead, she makes my favourite meals, announces that food is ready, or cracks jokes until she gets a reaction from me. I usually let it slide, but this last intrusion crossed a line I couldn’t ignore.
Last year, I started journaling my private thoughts because I didn’t want to share everything with my mum. Whenever school overwhelmed me, or I tried to process my feelings about the crushes I had, I wrote them down in my diary. I value my privacy, so I always keep the book somewhere out of everyone’s reach.
In late November, I took an afternoon nap and forgot my journal on a chair in the living room. A few hours later, my mum woke me and said she wanted to talk. I assumed she needed me to run errands, but to my shock, she wanted to talk about the contents of my journal.
I asked how she even got hold of it, and she said she found it while cleaning the living room and decided to read it. I was still processing the violation of my privacy when she said she wanted to talk about the parts where I wrote about having issues at school and the men I was thinking about. That made me even angrier, and I told her I didn’t want to talk about my private thoughts. She accused me of carelessness and said that leaving the journal out gave her access to it. Her words pushed me over the edge.
When she saw how angry I was, she tried to backtrack. She claimed she didn’t know it was a journal or meant to intrude. She said she enjoyed my writing and thought ‘the book’ was just another one of my essays. I was too angry to respond, so I walked away, and we ended the conversation.
Since then, she hasn’t apologised and has acted as if nothing happened. I don’t want us to brush it under the carpet. I want a clear verbal apology, and I think it’ll be a first step in recognising my independence as a young adult.
I tried to show how upset I was by giving her the silent treatment. It’s the only way I know how to show her how deeply upset I am, but maintaining it has been difficult because I still depend on her financially and help her around the house.
We had a follow-up conversation about the incident, and even though I still didn’t get an apology, I made it clear that I’m no longer a child and that she needs to respect my boundaries. I blocked every attempt she made to discuss the contents of the journal, and now we’re at a strange middle place.
Was I wrong for leaving my journal out and trusting that she would respect my privacy? I don’t know. What I do know is that she chose to read a book full of thoughts I never intended to share with her and still refuses to apologise.
Now that I can see she feels bad about it, I don’t know if I’m doing too much by still pushing for a proper apology.
Read Also: Sunken Ships: I Refuse To Cook Another Meal
