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When Did We Start Needing Permission to Rest?

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  When Did We Start Needing Permission to Rest? I was folding clothe s one Sunday afternoon  not because I had strength, but because I didn’t know how to sit still without guilt. The house was quiet. The fan whirred. A pot was simmering on low. But my mind was loud. Louder than the peace I was supposed to be enjoying. Louder than the Sabbath I’d promised myself. Still, I kept folding. And somewhere between the last shirt and the matching socks, I caught myself asking a question I’d never asked out loud: “Who am I trying to impress with this exhaustion?” That one question unraveled everything. Because the truth is — I had been performing energy I didn’t have, in spaces I no longer belonged to. I had been showing up in rooms that celebrated my productivity more than my presence. Rooms where you earn your worth by how much you can carry. Rooms where rest is treated like laziness, and burnout is a badge of honour. But what if we’ve been honouring the wrong thin...
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There's A Garden Growing Inside Of Me (Even Though I Cannot See It)

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There's A Garden Growing Inside Of Me (Even Though I Cannot See It) I may not see the petals yet. But I know something is taking root. July didn’t come with fireworks or noise  it came with clarity. A quiet, unshakable awareness that just because it isn’t visible yet doesn’t mean it isn’t real. That not every season is meant for harvest. Some are meant for depth. This is mine. There’s a garden growing in me  and this time, I’m not rushing to prove it. I’m not waiting for validation, applause, or signs to confirm what I already know: God is doing a work beneath the surface. And that is more than enough. I’ve grown tired of performing progress. Of attaching my worth to visible results. Of thinking that growth is only valid when others can see it. Sometimes the most sacred transformations happen where no one is looking. And I’ve learned to honour those moments. The quiet decisions. The silent prayers. The deep inner shifts that change everything even if...
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The Place I Go When I Can't Be Strong

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The Place I Go When I Can't Be Strong There’s a place I go, and no, it’s not in this world. It doesn’t exist in the Lagos noise. Not in my living room. Not even in my corner workspace  the one with the blue plastic chair Lanre got me, where I sit and try to build something that matters. This place? It’s invisible. It lives somewhere between breath and memory. Somewhere behind my eyes. It’s not made of walls or furniture or fragrance. It’s made of retreat. I go there when my soul is tired but the world still expects me to show up like I’m fine. It’s not a sad place. And not exactly safe either. But it’s mine . When I’m there, I let go of the pressure. Of strength. Of sense. I curl into that space  not physically, because my body won’t always allow that but emotionally, quietly. I release. “God, I’m tired of holding everything together.” “I’m not lazy… I’m just exhausted in ways I can’t explain.” “I need softness too, not just survival.” “Can You still he...
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Dear Daddy, This One’s for You

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Dear Daddy, This One’s for You   Before I even understood what it meant to carry a family, I watched you do it with strength only heaven could give. You never announced your sacrifices. You simply lived them. From long work days to quiet midnights, you built our lives with your own two hands  and a heart that never turned away from responsibility. I remember the hospital bills when I got so sick... how your account and Mommy’s combined still weren’t enough. Yet somehow, the bills were paid. You didn’t sleep, you didn’t break ,you found a way. Because that’s who you are. You’ve always made sure I was okay. Not just me all of us. My siblings, the people around you, even strangers. You gave. You protected. You covered. Even when it stretched you. Even when no one said thank you. I think about the expensive schools you sent us to. How you never once made us feel like it was a burden. You believed we deserved the best  and you gave it, whether or not it w...
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