The Place I Go When I Can't Be Strong

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 hear me… even when I’m not praying out loud?”

In that place, I don’t have to be the eldest. I don’t have to be understanding. I don’t have to explain why my left side sometimes slows me down. Or why I overthink. Or why I cry in invisible ways.

There, I’m just Temini.
Woman. Wounded, but blooming.
With dreams that ache and faith that still stands.
A writer. A feeler. A fighter who no longer wants to fight every day.

Some days I imagine what it would be like if that place were real soft cushions, brown earth tones, a scent of lavender in the air, maybe silence… maybe a slow piano playing. Nothing to prove. No one to impress. Just a haven where my body and mind are allowed to breathe.

And when life knocks again  the pings, the deadlines, the decisions  I slowly return.

Not because I’m suddenly strong again. But because I’ve remembered I don’t have to be.

And maybe you have a place like that too — one no one knows about. A quiet mental room where you drop your cape, your smile, your explanations. Where do you go when life gets too loud? When was the last time you gave yourself permission to just be without performing?

If any part of this story held your heart for a moment, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. Your words matter here.

And if you love this signature storytelling style  soft, soulful, and honest  and you have a brand, business, or blog that deserves words that truly resonate and meet results, let’s create magic together. I’ll be honored to help you tell your story. Email me at minitemedia@gmail.com  I’m just one message away.

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