Superwoman Syndrome

When you fly home at night,
slipstreaming lassitude and loneliness
sleepy wind hissing your name
encasing and loving your frame,

do you ever wonder,
before feet touch down on stillness
kissing terra firma
when you will put yourself first?
©Assumpta Ozua 2015

I had a really busy weekend – Really. Busy.

Having said that, most of my weekends are busy. This one however, seemed to exhaust me more than most. I think it’s because I had so much to do in different locations and I came up against a few obstacles along my travels which, on numerous occasions, made me want to turn around, go home and hide under the covers.

It took so much will power to push through and get everything done but I’m so proud that I did. I performed twice; on Saturday at a fundraising event for my friend Jamal Germain, an aspiring Olympian decathlete. Please follow his journey here or using the hashtag #RoadToRio to keep track.

On Sunday I performed again at a friends church event in Enfield and pretty soon after getting off the stage I had to rush from there (North London) to the Hilton, Park Lane in West London for a family dinner – all of this after having attended my own church in the morning. (shout out to the kind stranger who noticed how frazzled I was, helped me at the station and sat with me while I waited for the next train en route to said performance).

To cut a long, and really strange story short, dinner finished late, I missed the last train of the night and my phone died before I could decide whether or not I wanted to pay the 2.6x surcharge for an Uber. I then foolishly decided to brave the buses [at midnight]. However, five buses and extreme frustration later, I accepted defeat, found the nearest taxi and took one very expensive ride home.

Needless to say, when I walked into my apartment, I burst into tears. It took me two hours to get home. TWO HOURS. Aside from the wasted money, I was crying more out of annoyance. I couldn’t believe that every decision I took to get me back went so horribly wrong, but it made me think. Earlier, at my performance, I was introduced as “Superwoman” – because that is what my friend (who booked me) thinks of me. And he’s not the first person to call me that.

I am not Superwoman.

Yes I do a lot of things, (sometimes to my detriment) but this isn’t necessarily a good thing. Prioritising and learning to say no are really important qualities to master.

With this in mind, I am actively making a conscious effort from now – not the new year, to consider my own needs because ‘Superwoman’ is of no use to anyone if she is sick, run down, or worst of all, dead.

[Picture of me on the dance floor at a Christmas party I attended last weekend with my parents]