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Ash and Stillness
I arrived with winter in my pockets and summer still pressed between my ribs.
They called it brave. I called it necessary. The cold taught me how to fold myself smaller, then how to unfold, wider than before.
Challenges came without announcement. Rent due. Silence where I expected welcome. Emails that began with “unfortunately.”
I learned perseverance is not a shout.
It is tea at 6am when the house is still dark. It is filling forms with steady hands.
It is saying “I will try again” in a voice that does not tremble, even when it should. There were days I wanted to be ash
To stay there, quiet and done.
But something in me refused the ending.
So I gathered what was left of me, and started again.
Resilience is not the photograph.
It is the thousand mornings before it. The buses missed. The interview lost.
The accent corrected. The name mispronounced. And still, the kettle on.
And still, the CV sent.
And still, the prayer whispered into steam. I am not unbroken.
I am mended, with visible seams. And that, too, is a kind of gold.
From ash, a different kind of fire. Lower. Steadier.
It does not roar. It warms.
It keeps me.
What is Success???
I used to measure myself in pounds and pence. In alerts, in transfers, in “Have you sent it?” Success wore the face of a big balance.
If the account was quiet, I thought I was failing. But money comes and goes like weather.
Some months heavy rain, some months dry. I began to count other things.
The way I answered an email without shaking. The way I said “no” and did not apologise after. The way I stood in a room and knew I belonged.
The real win was calling home and hearing pride in their voice. Not because I sent something, but because I sounded steady. “My daughter is trying,” my mother said, and I believed her.
I had spent years depending, hands open, waiting. Now I pay my bills and still have light left for tea.
Now I budget, plan, and breathe at the end of the month. I manage my own matter now, no be small thing.
Confidence is a quiet thing. It doesn’t announce. It just lets you sleep at night.
It lets you look forward instead of behind.
Success is the family group chat lighting up for me. “Proud of you.” “Well done.” “God is with you.”
It is not needing to borrow to fix what breaks.
It is choosing what to give, instead of giving from fear. It is knowing I can fall and still get up without shame. It is building a life that fits, even if it’s small.
Na progress be this, even if e slow. I am not rich by every definition.
But I am free in ways money cannot buy. And that, I am learning, is wealth too.
Wearing A Mask
I mastered nodding like it was a degree. Smiling like the rent depended on it.
Laughing at jokes my brain did not get. “Are you okay?” “Oh yes, all good!” I lied. I dey pretend well, na my talent.
Even my mirror dey clap for me.
But under the shine, I was running on fumes And coffee was doing most of the work.
In meetings I wore calm like a coat. In traffic I wore patience like a saint.
On calls home I wore “everything is fine” like pride. While my to-do list was plotting against me.
This mask fits me well.
Sometimes I forget where I keep the zip. I tell myself it’s just for now,
But “just for now” has started taking rent.
I could answer emails with one hand,
And hold my sanity together with the other. I could laugh, present, and internally panic All before lunch without spilling my coffee.
My face says “strong”, my body screams “rest” My eye bags have eye bags of their own
I thought if I kept performing,
The tiredness would eventually get bored and leave.
Then I got home and the show was over. No audience. No script. No encore.
I took off the smile like borrowed shoes. And let the silence see everything I hid. Nobody is watching me, so I can breathe. I can be tired without apology.
The room didn’t clap. It didn’t judge. It just let me be human for a while.
I’m learning to take the mask off slowly. Not dramatic.
Just honest in small doses.
To say “I’m tired” without adding “but it’s fine.” To laugh for real, not for survival.
I still use it sometimes, no lie. But now I know when to drop it.
Because the real me is not that bad, And she deserves air too.
