I Finally Came Clean With My Father
Happy Wednesday! Today, I am excited to share an experience that most of you will connect with. In this post, I'll provide the backstory for an article I've previously released, titled “My Struggle with God’s Will” This narrative is closely connected with three additional articles, which I've included links to below. To fully grasp the context of this story, I encourage you to explore those as well. Now, let's dive right in.
It was an emotional experience for me when I finally came clean. I've always been accustomed to internalizing my feelings, concealing the genuine extent of my inner struggles. In many aspects, I inherited this trait from my father. So, withholding this secret from him had been a personal struggle I grappled with for years. However, during a conversation with my brother one day, he firmly advised, “You need to share it with him.”
Let me take you guys back for a moment. It was in 2005, when my father and I sat in our home office in Ulsan, South Korea. I was just 17 years old at the time and applying to enter university. We ran through the list of majors on the University of Louisiana Lafayette’s website, searching for what was going to be the best fit for me.
We considered Chemistry, some other science related courses and engineering. “You will study Chemical Engineering,” he said, “this field in engineering is broad, so you can work in various industries.” What did I know? I can’t even remember if prior to that I had heard the phrase “chemical engineering.”
I agreed with him; after all, he was an engineer himself. And with years of experience under his belt, surely he knew what was best for me. Nevertheless, he faced a limitation in foreseeing the extent of my challenges in school. Amongst all the courses that showed me pepper, organic chemistry was the chief of them all.
Drawing upon the movie “Gifted Hands” once again, there's a scene in which Ben Carson (portrayed by Cuba Gooding Jr.) vents to his girlfriend about a challenging chemistry course. That dialogue resurfaced memories I was reluctant to revisit. “Chemistry has always been a problem,” I voiced aloud, reflecting on the distressing encounters I had endured.
The recollection of a poem my cousin crafted during her secondary school days (when she was faced with a challenging chemistry test) also came to mind. This poem ended up leading to her suspension. Instead of providing answers related to the subject on her test paper, she wrote: “Chemistry, oh, Chemistry, Aru eme (abomination has happened)!”
I didn’t blame her though, Chemistry indeed was an abomination. My university years were riddled with tears; even the smartest girl in my class (a girl from Haiti), cried at some point. So, who was I not to cry a river of tears every time chemical engineering presented a challenge? I wished, like David in the Bible, to grow wings and fly away to a place where no one could find me and just start a new life.
My head of department tired of seeing me complain in his office asked one day, “what do you really want to do?”
“Write,” I said to him, “I want to become a writer.”
“Well, I can tell you are good at it, however, when compared to engineers, writers make little to no money.” What? Had he heard of J.K. Rowling? But there is some truth to his statement - in this writing industry, all fingers are not equal (because the struggle is real). Even though sha, I knew that this path for engineering wasn’t for me. I never for once told my parents about my challenges. As it was synonymous with my nature.
Whenever I was asked how school was going, I replied, “it is fine.” I once toyed with the idea of changing my major to something easier, but feared the disappointment they’d harbor. So, I kept struggling to the end. Thank God I graduated oh! But how naïve was I to be ignorant to the new type of challenge I’d face - finding work in a foreign country.
A recruiter from a chemical company contacted me two weeks before graduation after seeing my resume online. She informed me of a job opening at their company and invited me to an interview. I immediately contacted my friends in the same field, who had already begun working to assist me in preparing for the interview. My father, an industry veteran, also prepared me for what was to come. I was happy to make the two-hour drive from Lafayette to an area not far from New Orleans, daydreaming about how my life was going to change.
On arrival, my stomach began to churn. I was a nervous wreck. However, the warmth of the recruiter quelled every anxiety I harbored. She showed me to the waiting room, assuring me all will be well. I waited on the edge of my seat, until my name was called. I then walked into a room with two interviewers, who began grilling me with questions. When I left their custody, I thought, “there is no way I am going to get this job.”
My performance immediately put an end to my dream of living my best life. Then it was time to move on to the next round. I walked into another room with a group of people who asked more questions about behavioral skills, which I was glad to answer. After one more round of interviews, I was escorted back to the waiting room. Time had gone by when the recruiter dashed into the room, ecstatic. “We just need management to approve your work permit, they all loved you!” she said.
Me, little ole’ me? I was out of my mind with joy. I couldn't wait to tell my family the good news. I believe my father must have been the happiest man on earth that day. He dreamed of a life where his baby girl would be able to take care of herself without worries. He’d enjoyed the perks of being an expert in a coveted industry and wanted his daughter to follow in his footsteps, and I was happy to do just that - finally, he’d be proud of me, I thought.
As adults, I've come to realize that the desire for validation from our parents remains ingrained within us. The yearning for their pride persists, and the prospect of letting them down affects us profoundly, often more than it affects them. Thus, we go to great lengths to conceal our imperfections, errors, and transgressions, as if they didn’t first walk in our shoes. Or am I the only one who feels this way?
Anyway, back to the story. The recruiter said it would take two weeks for my permit to be approved, after which I would begin working. At the age of 23, my life was about to get started. This girl who had struggled to get through engineering school was about to be rewarded for all her hardships. In 2011, $60,000 a year was a good starting salary - In fact, if you pay me $60,000 per year today (in Nigeria oh), be rest assured that all my financial woes will be behind me.
Okay, let me refocus and stop daydreaming about dollars. As the second week following my interview approached, I kept a close eye on my calendar. I hadn't heard from my favorite recruiter or my soon-to-be bosses. I started calling her phone frantically, but she never answered me.
Once the two weeks were up, I received an email from her. “Management was unable to approve your work permit. I wish you the best of luck in the future.” Ah! I sank in my chair. To say I was crushed is to put it lightly. This woman destroyed my hopes and dreams. You know what it feels like when a rug is pulled from underneath you? Yes, that feeling.
What a lovely story it would have been if I had gotten a good job only two weeks after graduating! My father would have maintained his status as the happiest man in the world. I would have been financially self-sufficient. But God had other plans.
There would be several close calls, including an interview with PZ Cussons in New York City and numerous phone calls from their UK office stating that they were working on my approval, and so, I should be patient. And whenever my father would call me about the status of my interview, I would pacify him with that update.
I remember having another interview with Honeywell in Baton Rouge, where I was lodged in a five-star hotel by the company, but with no results. Thus, I finally laid to rest this dream of working as an engineer. I had to find another way.
*****
When I returned to Nigeria in 2017 (story coming soon), I was too afraid to tell my father that I was no longer interested in the industry. In fact, no one here would take me because of my age. So, as the years progressed, I remained comfortably in my shell. I knew I didn’t want the traditional 9-5 job, waking up early and entering Lagos traffic. Who wants to deal with that?
Guilt also weighed heavily on my heart. After spending thousands of dollars on my education, it was as if I tossed all my father’s efforts into a trash can. Internal conflicts arose, and my insecurities did not help. When people asked what I was doing, I was hesitant to tell them I was a writer until I found paid work in the field.
Yet, in 2020, I resigned from my job. But before you judge me, know that both the stress of going from the island to the mainland (for a job that could be done from home), and the pay, were insufficient. My father, like any good father, expressed concern and began tossing job applications in the oil industry my way; after my brother blew my cover that I had quit my job (don’t we just love siblings?)
Then one day, he called to tell me about another opportunity. “I sent your resume to them, and this project is scheduled to begin in early 2022. You can do the job, and they pay very well.” My heart was broken. He just wouldn't let this engineering thing slide. So, while he waited anxiously for me to send him additional information to propel the job application further, I mustered up courage to come clean to him, after much prodding from my brother.
So, I crafted an email where I poured my heart out to him, explaining that I did not want to be an engineer. Never wanted to be one. If I had known at 17, while we sat at that office selecting university majors, I would have opted to study communications, or something related to writing. But I didn’t. Not all 17-year-olds know what they want to become.
After I was done writing the email, I prayed to God to help cushion the blow I was about to hit him with. Then I tossed my phone far from me - I didn’t want to know if he received the email or replied me.
I know some of you might be thinking: why didn’t you just call him? Or speak with him face to face? It is the same reason why I am writer today and not creating skits on social media. I’ve been hiding all my life. This is what I know how to do best. His response finally came in and it melted my heart— “What can I say as a father other than wishing God’s guidance and blessing on your chosen career path. Let me know whatever support you need, I love you.”
It was a bittersweet moment for me. Bitter because I still feel that I let him down, sweet because I have finally received the permission I sought all those years to become who I am.
I believe we sometimes don’t give our parents enough credit. This is spurred on by the era we grew up in (I am a millennial). We sometimes believe that if we tell them the truth, they will have our heads. But they love us and do so unconditionally. I think another reason why we may want to keep things to ourselves, is because our parents (most parents of millennials in this part of the world) were not expressive with how much they love their children. And its not their fault. It was how some of them were raised.
I once read a story about a girl who attempted suicide because she failed a test in school and was afraid of how disappointed her father would be. Her father on arriving at the hospital was devastated. He said to her, “just know that your life is worth more to me than anything you can achieve.”
I don't know what the future holds for me in this writing journey - who does anyway? I am however, committed to this gift that God has so generously blessed me with. Who knows, maybe the next time you hear my name it will be in the news (and for good reason).
Okay, this was a long one! Thank you for allowing me the space to share my life experiences with you. I know this experience isn’t unique to me, so I’d like to hear about your experiences. There was a close friend of mine who quit her good engineering job without her father’s knowledge. When her father came to visit, each day, she left the house (as if she was going to work) and spent her time doing other things - it was absolutely hilarious. Especially because she was a married woman with two children. Now, she owns an events rental company. Talk about a stark contrast in careers.
So, how many of you on this newsletter studied one thing and found yourselves on a completely different path? Kindly respond to this email or leave your comments below. If this piece resonated with you, it would also resonate with others. Please do me a favor and share it.
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