Favour 10 months ago

Lucky's Unlucky Tale

Have you ever wondered who has the worst luck? Wonder no more because, without a doubt, I, Melanie Lucky Aderogba, am that person.

It seems I was born that way because my parents took one look at me and decided they didn't want me. I was abandoned in the hospital after my birth. Thankfully, an orphanage took me in as no one came in search of me. Life in the orphanage wasn't a rosy one; I was constantly reminded that I was one of the rejected ones. I prayed day and night that someone would adopt me, but as always, I wasn't good enough.

As I grew older, I realized that I had to work harder than most people to get a good life. I remember hawking sachet water in the streets of Lagos daily to augment my basic needs, as the orphanage didn't have sufficient funding to cater to all the kids under their care. I was determined to prove to everyone that I could achieve all my dreams on my own. So I studied day and night. I sowed with my blood, sweat, and tears in hopes that one day, I'll get to be in a position where no one would ever want to reject or abandon me again.

My hard work yielded fruit, and I was offered a scholarship to one of the most prestigious secondary schools in the country. My joy knew no bounds, and I couldn't wait to begin my ascend to the top. My new school was a nightmare. I honestly cannot tell if I would have gone through with my application if I had been made aware of the internal runnings of the school. The school had a weird system that divided kids into three groups, which were the cool kids, the regular kids, and the outcasts.

The cool kids were at the top of the food chain; their parents practically ran the school with their deep pockets. They were children of high-end socialites and sometimes loved to refer to themselves as the 'Elite group.' The regular group was like the safe group. They weren't poor like the outcasts, but they certainly weren't rich enough to be part of the Elites. Their parents had good social standings and good steady incomes.

The last group was the outcasts, far down at the bottom of the food chain. It included nobodies and scholarship kids like me. I was the lowest of the low, and even my fellow outcasts hated me. Whenever something went wrong, the outcasts were blamed, and the outcasts automatically blamed me. I got tripped in hallways on a daily basis, and I felt like mousy prey in a world full of lion-like predators.

There were times when I slept on the cold hard floor and had several meals taken away because I had performed better than a cool kid in my class. Many times, I had been tossed to the side because someone else had money to buy the position I worked hard for. I was often referred to as 'Melanie, the queen of darkness' or 'unlucky Lucky.' I was the subject of ridicule by everyone. "Her name is Lucky? What an irony." They said. "Melanie, why did your parents abandon you, were they scared your bad luck will rub off on them?" Genevieve, one of the cool kids and my most dedicated tormentor would ask regularly. I remember how much I'll weep in the bathroom and then come out acting all tough. It was obvious that they saw through my ruse, but I persisted in my self-esteem.

It was hell, but I endured, and when I graduated, I promised never to let anyone make me feel like an outcast again; but as always, life found a way to bite me in the ass. There I was, many years later, feeling more like an outsider than ever before. The picture of my loving husband sat on my hand like a thorn in my flesh. It wasn't because I hated him, but because of what the picture portrayed. A complete family.

There was my husband surrounded by strangers, although they didn't seem like strangers to him. He had his arms wrapped like a protective shield around a woman who was smiling brightly at the camera, one of her hands resting on the very noticeable bulge on her stomach. Two kids, male and female, sat by their sides. They looked like the perfect family. I remember questioning my eyes, surely I didn't see well, and my brain was interpreting the picture wrongly. Emptying the contents of the box where I had found the picture only confirmed the truth I already knew but didn't want to believe. There were more pictures of the lady and the kids, birth certificates, passports, and marriage certificates.

I could feel my heart breaking into tiny fragments that would never be pieced together again. I could hardly keep track of my emotions. I was sad, hurt, angry, betrayed, and broken, all at the same time. Heart-wrenching sobs escaped me, and angry tears rolled down my cheeks. I still wasn't enough, even after everything. Dare had abandoned me, just like my parents all those years ago. We had been married for seven years, and yet he had made me an outsider and subjected me to the mockery and humiliation I knew was coming.

"That's the woman whose husband abandoned her for another. Do you know he had another family without her knowledge, and it's because she couldn't bear him a child." They'll point at me and whisper among themselves. Was I even still married? What right could a barren woman fight for? "Lord! What did I do to deserve this fate? I've tried to get my life in order, but you decided to make me barren; where is my respite? I'm all alone again; I've been tossed to the curb once more like a piece of rag. Why don't you just take my life and spare me this heartbreak?" I had cried out to God in anguish. Life had grabbed me by the neck and left me gasping for breath.

I tried to end my life that night and swallowed a large number of my antidepressants. The doctors said I was lucky that it was a miracle I had survived without severe aftermath. God had chosen to save me, probably to prove to me that I was the only one who had control over my life. You are what you think. I finally realized that I had caused all my misfortunes by professing that I was unlucky. So I did things differently. I confessed that I was lucky, fertile, and enough through God.

The results were instantaneous; my life transformed right before my eyes. I leaned on the promises of God and let him carry me over every hurdle. I just relaxed and let him take care of me. I turned to my grandkids, who appeared intrigued by my tale of woe. "So, my darlings, trust in God, confess positively, and watch him perfect everything for you. Just like he did for me." I smiled and leaned backward on my chair with a solid thought in mind.

God is our anchor.


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