SHE CALLED MY NAME - A Story about Mental Health Stigma

A woman was once my neighbor. Loud mouthed one oh.

Her passion it seemed was talking and putting her mouth into other people's business. Ahhhhhh the woman could taaaallllllkkkk. Shushushu, shushushu everywhere and on top everybody matter. To complement her passion, her major hobby was disturbing gentle human beings like me with her pranks. If I hear anyhow laugh there! Who is not gentle? If I say I am gentle, then I am gentle. Datsall.

Everybody has their own oga. My neighbour was one of my own ogas then. Could frustrate my life without much effort. To start with, her pet name for me was Psycho doctor. Anytime she sees me particularly in public or with strangers, she would start shouting:

“Psycho-doctor, Psycho-doctor. How are you and your psycho patients?”

The way she will shout it sef, so loud like King Kong’s booming voice. What exactly was the meaning of Psycho-doctor- Was it that she meant I was psychotic myself or that I work in a Psychiatric facility? I could never fathom. All I know was that I used to feel somewhat ridiculed. It was always a deliberate attempt at negativity and who wants that? Not me.

Whatever my response was to her greeting, madam Mocker, wicked woman of the tribe of Cinderella’s stepmother will now laugh her wicked laughter – The audience of this her greeting will now be looking at me one kind or join in the mockery debacle. A whole me being bullied. I corrected her once or twice but just left her alone when her stubborn head did not allow her to understand that by