Tell Your story #52 (I Thought I Was Loved)

Hello amazing ladies of Ladies Universe!
I’ve truly missed this space, it feels so good to join Tell Your Story again. I’m excited to be part of Edition 55 and grateful to the wonderful organizers @ruthjoe and this inspiring community.

Thank you for giving women like me a voice. This week, I’m sharing a piece of my journey: raw, real, and full of hope. I pray it touches someone out there.

I used to think I was loved, cared for, and cherished especially by the people I called family. But now I wonder... was I just dreaming? Could circumstances truly change everything?

I was raised in a warm, caring home. As a child, I enjoyed the full beauty of parenthood : smiles, affection, and a sense of belonging. I never thought that one day, the same people who once carried me would look away when I needed to be held again.

Growing up, life hit me hard and early. I had to start hustling young not just for myself, but also to support the family I loved. I gave without question, without complaint. But now that I need support the most… there is silence. Deep, painful silence.

These week, I fell seriously ill. I kept taking malaria drugs, assuming it was the usual fever. But my body screamed louder than medicine could silence. The pain in my lower abdomen became unbearable. I couldn't bend, walk well, sleep, or even urinate in peace.

Eventually, I went to the hospital and had a scan done. When the result came out, it felt like my world was breaking: I was diagnosed with an ovarian cyst.

I was scared. I was hurting. But more than the diagnosis, it was the reaction from the people I called family that broke me the most.

I called my parents and told them the result. My dad told me he would get back to me. Days have passed. No call. No text. No “How are you feeling?”

That was when it truly hit me: I have no one.

Not a mother, not a father, not a sister or brother. Just me alone with my pain, trying to stay alive.

A Memory That Keeps Me Smiling

Despite everything, I remember sitting under the moonlight with my grandma, listening to her stories—about the strength of women, about rising again. Her words echo in my heart, “No matter what life does to you, always stand like the iroko. Let the world know you were born for more.”

This Is My Voice

I’m not writing this for pity. I’m writing this because someone out there might be going through the same thing. I want you to know you’re not alone. You may not have the support you expected, but you have strength you never imagined.

Sometimes, life shows us who truly stands with us not through celebration, but through suffering. And when the people we count on disappear, we learn to count on God and ourselves.

This is my story.
This is my voice.
And I refuse to be silent.

I also want to invite @mercybliss and @jemilatbuhari to participate in this contest.

Thank you for going through my post and blog. I hope to get feedback