The Echoes in the voice

When I was young, my mom recognized the significant influence I had on my younger brother, to the extent that he often followed my lead. As a result, I frequently bore the brunt of the blame for his mistakes, along with the associated punishments. At the time, I struggled to understand her reasoning, though I still hear echoes of her voice: “Do not mislead your brother!”

As I transitioned into adulthood, I realized that many people share my late mother’s perspective. In group settings, affiliations, and workplaces, I often find myself being one of the most sought-after sources for opinions and guidance. Just like back then, I still bear the blame for others’ mistakes. According to them I am popular and therefore indirectly influence People that appreciate my perspectives and admire my opinions. Opinion I still find hard to accept.

Recently, I have delved into content creation focused on parent-child relationships, particularly emphasizing the importance of a father’s presence in their children’s lives. I have been amazed by the tremendous support I receive from the public, especially from our wonderful fans who watch, listen, like, comment, and share our programs. Their love and support reinforce my mother’s insights about my capacity to be an influencer.

While influencing can lead to fame and riches, the key distinction lies in the energy we choose to cultivate rather than merely the number of followers, likes, and wealth we accumulate. Now, as a father of two wonderful young girls, I find myself cautious of my behavior and the impact it has not only on my children but also on those who look up to me. Although I am not perfect, I recognize the importance of cultivating a sense of responsibility in our homes and fostering love and affection in our parent-child relationships. I can still hear the echoes of my mother’s voice: “Do not mislead them.”

No day is the same!

What do you wish you could do more every day?

We will get better

Days are categorized and measured in the same way; each having twenty-four hours. However, despite their similarities in timing, no two days are ever the same. We often fail to realize or appreciate the opportunities each day presents until they have passed. As my late father used to say, “Had I known” is a brother to Mr. Late.

In our subconscious minds, we tend to overlook the little things that make life beautiful and add value to our existence because of anger, overthinking, pride, and greed. How I wish I could live each day the way I truly want! But then again, what do I really want?

At this moment, as I write this, I find myself feeling mad at my spouse due to a minor misunderstanding, Still, I wish I could kiss her every moment and tell her how much I love her, along with expressing my love to everyone around me.

Also, my biggest wish is to make each day count financially—meaning I want to earn money and make gains each day to adequately take care of my needs and that of my family.

The truth is that energies vary, and no day is the same. But understanding and appreciating the little things around us is the key to making each day meaningful. I love reading, listening to country songs, enjoying quiet environments, sharing laughter, and having deep, meaningful conversations. Eating healthy, exercising, and taking a walk However, all of this seems out of reach when I find myself financially unstable which makes my everyday wishes feel unattainable.

We often don’t realize what we have until it’s lost. Despite having a rough time, I sometimes look at my kids with their stress and endless questions and laugh, feeling blessed and lucky. Life could have been worse but it isn’t. I feel fulfilled knowing that we have a roof over our heads and food on our table, Keeping and raising a family is no easy task, but it is something we cherish deeply. Spending time with them every day is something I wished for and currently doing but every decision comes with its challenges and mine is not isolated however I know it could be better and will surely be better.

When labor fruits are rotten!

What is the last thing you learned?

The dignity fades away

It’s been nearly a month since I lost my job, and the emotional weight of it all has been quite heavy. Trying to find some comfort, I sat down with a cabbage salad, but the joyful noise coming from my children’s room seemed to echo the turmoil I feel inside. Normally, I might gently remind them to lower their voices, but today feels different—far from the routine we used to know.

The reality is that life often throws unexpected challenges our way, like job loss, and it can be hard to anticipate how deeply these events will affect us. After returning from our school runs, I wanted to give my kids a chance to reconnect after being apart all day. On a regular day, I would savor my salad, but today it feels bland against the backdrop of my worries.

Salad tastes different in the midst of worries!

As I’ve reflected on my situation, I realize that I’ve been viewing my circumstances through a negative lens. This afternoon, my kids asked for ice cream and a lollipop—a request they’ve made often this week, especially with the warm, sunny days around us. Unfortunately, I had to tell them, “I don’t have any money today, but I promise we can get some tomorrow.” It breaks my heart to let them down again, knowing that my “tomorrow” has stretched into weeks.

“Dad, how long until you have money?” my eldest daughter asked, her innocent curiosity piercing through my own worries.

How do I explain to them that a month without work has left me with no financial means, no savings to draw upon? It feels so disheartening to think that after years of hard work, just a brief period of joblessness can lead to such a struggle to provide for them—whether it’s paying rent, keeping food on the table, or even buying a small treat like ice cream. It brings to light an important question: what is the purpose of working if it doesn’t secure our family’s needs, our bills, or ensure we can prepare for the unexpected?

In the past, jobs were sources of pride and stability, allowing families to thrive—sending children to school, paying off homes, enjoying vacations, planning for retirement, and saving for those rainy days. Work once held a sense of dignity because it meant providing for loved ones. Yet in today’s world, when the fruits of our labor no longer meet our basic needs or shield us from life’s uncertainties, that dignity seems to fade away.last thing I learned.

When You are not you!

Do you believe in fate/destiny?

You are Still You!

After returning from the play park with my young girls on what seemed to be a sunny day—perhaps an early hint of summer—I could hear their complaints about the lack of outdoor experiences during the long winter months. With high spirits and enthusiasm, I noticed their sighs of relief when I mentioned going to the playground. Although it was a lovely day with sunshine and cool weather, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my fate.

Were my current circumstances destined to happen, or were they merely the result of random decisions? Fate can be defined as the development of events outside a person’s control, often seen as predetermined by a supernatural power. It’s challenging to manage the unforeseen circumstances that life throws our way, which seem destined to occur.

This led me to question: What is destiny? Do I believe in it? Destiny refers to events that will inevitably happen to a particular person in the future. As you’re reading this article and trying to grasp the picture I’m painting to illustrate my story, I encourage you to ask yourself if this is fate, destiny, or simply the natural circumstances that bring us together.

Even when you are not you; you are still you!

While I may believe in fate, I must admit that I don’t fully understand how it works. The idea that every challenge I have faced is justified and that my victories were predestined could place me in a difficult position. I also believe that our future is shaped by our actions today. Yet, there are times when circumstances emerge that we, as humans, try to escape but cannot.

Complicated as it may seem, here I am, reflecting on my life—my children, my wife, my jobs, friends, family, admirers, detractors, and my country—wondering if all this is fate, my destiny, or simply a product of random decisions intertwined with the forces of nature. Meanwhile, my spouse has just returned from work, and the atmosphere in our home is alive again; everyone is happy after a day well spent.

It’s much like incarnation; even when you feel disconnected from yourself, you are still you. The same applies to fate and destiny: even if we doubt our circumstances or the journey of life, it remains our story and experience to share.

Life’s Insatiable Desires!

Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.

Lifetime experience

Sitting at the table with my youngest daughter, Akuoma, as I encourage her to eat while reflecting on my journey as a dad of two is a profound experience. Life moves so fast; my teenage years, when I was single and focused solely on myself, seem like a distant memory. Back then, I felt free, rich in possibilities, and unencumbered, always yearning for more with no one to worry about but myself. At a point, I couldn’t let go of my single nature but Life truly unfolds while we are busy pursuing other things, shaped by the phases and circumstances we encounter.

My childhood was filled with love, kindness, and affection—rich in lessons that may not have appeared glamorous at the time. Each life phase comes with its challenges and unforgettable memories that linger. I recognize the instinct to make decisions, a spark I also see in my first daughter, Omalicha. It’s a natural progression, one I too embraced.

Desires may remain insatiable, but with a mindful spirit, we can navigate them in pursuit of improvement. Often, the wisdom we acquire comes later in life. Adulthood brings a blend of responsibilities and the freedom we seek. At times, we find ourselves yearning for advancement or caught up in the euphoria of our pursuits.

In adulthood, I discovered that my happiness deepened with the desire to have children. That’s when my beautiful daughters entered my world. They are loving and joyful and at times challenging, yet every moment is invaluable. Being a dad and a husband is the most rewarding role I could have imagined.

So here I am, doing my utmost to ensure my daughter has her lunch, even if it involves sharing from her plate something I could not imagine as a single adult yet it’s an experience I would love to have a lifetime.

The downpour soaked us!

Do you need a break? From what?

But also had us washed.

If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride. It’s already ten p.m., and I’ve finally convinced my six-year-old daughter to go to bed after enjoying the excellent noodles I served her for dinner. I’ve been busy all day, having had a very stressful week at work, with today being my first rest day of the week, which I must admit is not a rest day at home. I got up early to drive two of my girls to school, not minding the fact that as a night shift worker, I had to be home after three a.m. Please note that I am not writing to beg for sympathy for my current situation because it is my choice and my duty as a parent. A husband and father.

I am surrounded by love, care, and the duties that come with being a parent because I have two girls, ages three and six, respectively. On my way back from dropping them off at school, which was a fifteen-minute walk away, I recalled that I had a driving lesson at 9:15 p.m. As I hurried home, I noticed my instructor parked next to my house. Unprepared to drive right away, I hurried inside my house to get my sheet schedule and, just for convenience, have my shoes changed. My heart is racing; I haven’t gotten enough sleep or rest, and even though it’s not a workday, I have a full itinerary for the day. I prayed that I wouldn’t make any serious driving errors today.

The class lasted for one hour. Although it was not very easy, I succeeded. I knew that under pressure, my driving lessons seldom went well, but I was stuck with my schedule and had little to no alternative. If wishes were horses indeed, I was relieved when the driving lessons were over. I went home and ate breakfast as quickly as possible. I was reminded of my copywriting assignment from the online course I recently registered in when I noticed my laptop on the table. After completing lesson 04 on storytelling two days ago, I found the homework challenging due to the given directions.

After searching the internet for suggestions and ideas, I saw that it was already 11:45; I had to pick up my three-year-old daughter from school. Oh, hmm. I hissed. I got dressed once more, grabbed my scooter, and opened the door to head out, only to discover that it was pouring. Rain and snow are the day’s weather forecast predictions. You have to fulfil your obligations as parents. I want to avoid giving in to the school administration’s request to pick up my children later than expected, so I take my umbrella and head out into the rain.In spite of the wind and rain, we managed to get home. While it was true that the rain got us wet, we were also washed. When we arrived home, my daughter was ecstatic; despite the rain, she was chanting, “Rain, rain, go away, and come again another day,” lilubally. This time, it was past noon, and after we ate, she fell asleep. I carried on with my copywriting task. I dozed off for an hour because I was so exhausted. It’s already 3 p.m., and time to pick up my first kid from school. I jumped on my scooter and rushed to school for the third time. We arrived home within twenty minutes. My leg shook and my eyes were heavy, my project and blog post were unfinished, and I knew rest was far away.

I apologise to my readers, subscribers, and followers for not posting on untoldrealities.com for approximately a week; it was unintentional and due to circumstances beyond my control. I looked at the prompt questions every day, but I was unable to write. But this is my life right now, and if I ever needed a break, it would be from my job because, no matter how difficult the sacrifices I made for my kids were, I would never regret being there for them when they needed me most. If wishes were horses, I would rather take a lasting break from work than not spend time with my children.

We are our tradition!

Write about a few of your favorite family traditions.

Thanks to Dad and Mom.

(It’s not about the tradition but the Aim of the tradition!)

Traditions are defined as a series of recurrent rituals, behaviours, and activities that have been practiced and passed down through generations. Indeed, family customs can vary by town, country, and continent. It can be both ornate and simple, reflecting family ideas and values. For many people, it includes physical or actual activities like family dinners, camping, family vacations, and extended family games, to name a few. Which is determined by the point of origin. Whatever customs your family has, they are honoured.

However, the idea of writing about this topic cast a heavy shade over my spirit in terms of my family’s priceless memories. It reminded me of my late parents and their insistence on our upholding family traditions.Their efforts to ensure that we all adhere to it continue to this day, even after they are gone. We, like every other family, have an annual vacation ritual; regardless of where we live, we return home every Christmas to spend quality time with our parents. Have a discussion together. We eat together, visit our fields, and go to church together. play and dance together . Both single and married. Even married people visit along with their wives and children.

But the most fascinating part of my family’s traditions isn’t what it might seem. Rather than the yearly vocations, dinner dates, farm visits, church, and dance, my parents’ goal is for us all to follow the tradition, which speaks to the love, unity, and affection that exist within the family. The conversations and outward manifestations of everyone utilising our time together to strengthen the family’s bond against those who would have us do otherwise.

Our parents instilled in us the importance of caring, helping, bonding, and looking out for one another. And their presence kept it in check until death arrived. I feel that any current family custom is primarily dependent on the prospective parents. Their intentions, as well as their vision and presence. I was unable to attend my late mother’s burial last Christmas, and I despised myself for it; as a result, I missed the annual custom of having all of my siblings together for the final time.

As much as it terrifies me that with our parents’ deaths, it may be difficult to maintain the physical annual tradition and rituals that accompany them, but the bond, love, devotion, and care they instilled in us, their children, will always be practiced and retained. However, with each of us having our own immediate families, our parents fulfilled their purposes and course of our tradition because, in turn, we are ensuring that our children have the same bond of love, affection, unity, and care for one another that our parents instilled in us through our family tradition. Permits me to say: When tradition fulfilled its course, it becomes human. We are our tradition.

How age affects fun time

List five things you do for fun.

Pleasant moment that I aspire to have for the remainder of my life.”

Having a good time involves a variety of activities. To be honest, I can’t recall the last time I set aside time for fun. The situations that I find fulfilling are different and frequently hard for others to comprehend. Having fun can sometimes help me decompress from stressful situations. I adore reading and writing because they are enjoyable activities that make me feel happy. The most intriguing aspect about writing, though, is that I can write well under pressure, while working, on my breaks, in noisy environments, and in other seemingly challenging situations. I utilise it to separate my soul from situations that deflect me of positive energies.

However, reading in public required a higher level of concentration. I prefer to read in a peaceful and quiet place since it energises my soul. Sometimes with a tuned down country music on the background.I began writing at a young age in the hopes of one day shaping people’s lives via my work and being known for it. It makes me glad today that people all over the world have seen and liked my blog post. Thank you, WordPress and social media networks, for making my goal come reality. Speaking of fun, I enjoy dancing and listening to various types of music.

I rarely have this kind of fun time, and when I do, I enjoy myself completely because I put all of my troubles aside and focus on the here and now. Yes, dancing and listening to music help me feel better. Going out every weekend and playing football were previously part of my fun times, but as I’ve grown older and seen a significant change in my personality, I’ve realised that life is what happens when we are occupied with other things.

Aside from writing and reading, spending time with my family is currently the most pleasurable and entertaining period of my life. One of the blessings I hope to enjoy every day of my life is spending weekends with my wife and children, playing and watching films together, eating, and conversing. Yes, these are my five favourite interesting facts. How about you?

Sacrifices you may never understand as a child

Please hurry up. Have you finished your breakfast, chimara? We’re already running late. Where is your sister now? Eating She responded while dining. OK please button up your jumper. I said again, my heart racing and my eyelids heavy with sleep; it hadn’t been long since they returned from a sleepover with their mother, who had hurriedly readied them for school before departing to her morning shift despite working all night.

After returning from the night shift, I closed my eyes for just an hour before falling asleep. Rolling from side to side of my bed, filled with resentment, anxiety, and great exhaustion, praying that a miracle could occur and someone would transport my kids to school every morning, not just today. How come I’m being tortured to such agony? My mind wandered with closed eyes and an awakened consciousness.Then a voice said, “Stop pitying yourself.” Nobody said it’d be easy. Get up; at the very least, you are doing it for your children. I had newfound vigour in my soul, yet I was still angry at myself.

Poor kids, how I wish they knew what was going through my mind; they would forgive all of my tantrums directed at them. Chizy, where are you? Come here, please. She promptly approached me, seeking for assistance with her shoes, which she had on incorrectly. Bring your leg here. I stated as I switched her trainers and clothed her appropriately for school. Walking to the dining room, which adjoins the entry and exit doors to our house, I notice a dish with leftover cereals on the table. Whose plate is that? I exclaimed. Oh, mine, mine, sorry, they said, aware that after eating, their plates should be taken to the kitchen. “Please let’s go; we’re late.

Chimara, where are your bags and water bottles? She said, “Here, here,” and I replenished them with water before we walked out the door. My formerly cloudy head has progressively cleared of grief and weakness. A few minutes into our walk to school, as we doubled our pace to keep up with the clock, I heard a three-year-old whispering hello and waving at us, while her mother looked on in delight. I was confused at first, but a closer look caught me off guard when I recognised her smile and realised she was Chizy’s classmate and friend.

Boo-boo, isn’t that your friend? And, yes, she grinned in response before calling her out and asking that she accompany us to school. But the kid’s mother and I quickly exchanged pleasantries. Come on, gals, we need to get caught up on time. We fled quickly. We’re almost at the school gate, and it’s time. I directed Chimara and Chizy to sprint towards the school entrance, preventing it from closing, and I followed them.

As a child I never truly understood the sacrifices of my parents until now; I hissed

We finally made it. Chimara was the first to enter her class, followed by Chizy, and I returned home with a different perspective and enthusiasm than woke up. The miracle I longed for occurred indirectly, relieving me of wrath, anguish, and anxiety burnt out of sacrifices made for the love of a child by the parents, especially their father.