For ages, David Githinji, a steady 38-year-old guy from Meru, hid a weight that chipped away at his soul. Folks saw him as the reliable type, cool under pressure, always grinding at work. But at home? His world with Lydia was fading fast, all because intimacy had turned into a ghost. It kicked off with a few off nights, nothing major. Then Bamit stuck around like an unwelcome guest. Every attempt at closeness? Total letdown from his side. “I figured it was just the daily grind wearing me down,” he shares, voice soft. “But weeks blurred into years.
My spark? Gone. I didn’t even recognise myself anymore.” Lydia, bless her, hung in there with grace. She nudged him gently toward fixes, doc visits, pills, those sketchy herbal brews locals swear by, and even dodgy over-the-counter stuff from quiet chats at the market. Zip. Nada. The harder he pushed, the deeper the shame dug in. Their bond? It cooled off quickly. No more sweet touches from her end; he’d crash on the sofa to dodge the awkward vibes.
She’d slip away to her sister’s more often, leaving echoes in the empty house. “Her eyes told the story,” David admits, wincing at the memory. “Love was there, sure, but so was this quiet ache. I was watching her slip through my fingers, bit by bit.” Then came that raw evening, another swing and miss that crushed him. He bolted to the bathroom, door locked, and let the tears flow like he hadn’t since boyhood. “Part of me wanted out,” he confesses. “To set her free from my mess, you know? That half-life? It wasn’t living.” Continue Reading https://drbokko.com/?p=34303