So, where do I begin?

Do I say that every prayer I’ve prayed over the last two years has been a mistake? Or that God hasn’t been listening? Do I somehow convince myself that the same God who has pulled me through so many different chapters of my life has suddenly stopped being at the helm?

There’s something interesting about submission when you really examine it. I think it works in two ways.

The first is what I like to call the illusion of control.

God says, “I have authority over this thing, but I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether you want to obey, conform, or align yourself with what I’m doing.”

And that part about leaving it up to you can be a little misleading.

So you go on your way, convinced that you’re making your own choices and charting your own course. But the orchestrator has already written the story. Sometimes, you’re simply a character with a part to play, and your best opportunity is to show up and absolutely crush it when it’s your turn to step up to the plate.

Then there’s the second part of submission.

This is what I like to call the roller-coaster effect.

One of the beautiful things about being led by God is that you get the opportunity to step onto the platform in the first place. You find yourself at an amusement park, a theme park, or wherever you want to call it, and you sit down on the roller coaster.

Maybe you’ve looked up the speed beforehand. Maybe you’re there specifically because you found out it’s one of the fastest roller coasters in the world. Maybe that’s what gets you excited.

I’m not going to judge you weirdos. Enjoy yourselves.

But anyone who has ever been on a roller coaster knows that even when you know how fast it’s supposed to go, you don’t truly know what you’re in for until the ride starts.

That’s how I’ve come to think about this journey with God. You “willingly” choose to sit down and strap yourself in, but you don’t know how high He’s going to take you. You don’t know how fast the ride will go or when it will slow down. You don’t know when the unexpected turns are coming.

And that’s the thing about life.

Someone might say, “Well, if you already know how the roller coaster goes, why not just ride it again?”

But there’s no guarantee you’ll get a second shot at the same ride. You might return to that theme park a few weeks or months later only to discover that the ride is no longer there, or that it’s no longer available.

That’s the beauty, and perhaps the uncertainty, of life itself. You don’t get to know every turn before you take it, and you aren’t guaranteed another opportunity to experience the same things.

For years, I’ve wrestled with the idea that God is in control and I’m just a passenger.

There have been times when I’ve wanted more control over my life and other times when I’ve wished I could have less responsibility for how things turn out. Through it all, I remain thankful for the love of God that continues to guide, correct, and redirect me.

But there have also been moments when I thought, surely, all I need to do is this one thing or make this one decision, and everything will be fine.

Except this ride has gone in so many different directions. Sometimes faster than I imagined. Sometimes slower than I wanted.

And as I sit here writing this, I’m beginning to accept that I have far less control than I’d like to believe.

Honestly, I’m not even necessarily mad about it.

For much of my life, I’ve done things my way, or at least tried to. I’ve tried to protect myself, guide myself, and convince myself that one option was better than another. I’ve tried to anticipate outcomes and make decisions that would spare me the pain of getting things wrong.

And more often than I’d like to admit, those attempts have left me dissatisfied. If anything, they’ve sometimes led to more anguish, pain, and confusion down the road.

So here I am, writing to you from the other side of a dizzying sequence of events, with no grand answers to offer.

As a matter of fact, one of the prayers I prayed this morning was quite simple.

It was tearful. It was honest. It was filled with surrender.

I simply asked the Holy Spirit, “Help me.”

I know how easy it is to appear as though you have everything figured out. I know how easy it is to speak as though you have all the answers to life’s questions.

But I don’t.

And as much as I want to give up sometimes, as tired as I feel, I know I can’t. At the same time, I won’t pretend that it hasn’t been hard.

It has been difficult. There is so much I wish were different about my life, my journey, and my experiences.

But there is something humbling, and perhaps even beautiful, about arriving at a point where you recognize that you’ve tried things your way, in different ways, and they haven’t worked out the way you hoped.

Now, it’s God’s turn.

I know how easy that is to say. And I know that in this marketplace of life, we can sometimes become more concerned with appearing spiritual than with actually making room for our spirituality.

Some people might read this and think, “Here comes another man blaming God or running back to God after making a mess of things.”

And you know what? There’s probably some truth to that. As a matter of fact, there is.

But one of the reasons I share these thoughts here is because of the people who reach out and tell me they’ve taken something away from our conversations. You’d be surprised by how far this little corner of the internet reaches and how many people it touches.

Beyond that, I hope there’s something of a cautionary tale here, particularly for men and the way we navigate life.

Many of us, whether because of our experiences, trauma, fear, or an overwhelming desire for control, move through life as though we know exactly how things are supposed to go. We build plans, establish expectations, and try to protect ourselves from every possible disappointment.

Then, at some point, life reminds us that we were never entirely in control.

We are not in charge of every outcome. We are not the ones commanding every turn. And sometimes, it takes a series of difficult experiences for us to recognize just how much we need God to lead us.

I’ve said many times on this platform and in conversations with people: do I wish my parents had left me more money, a bigger inheritance, a bigger house, more connections, or more opportunities?

Absolutely. Who wouldn’t?

But one thing I will always be grateful that my parents gave my siblings and me is an understanding of the love of God, and the knowledge that His love is greater than anything we might think or feel about ourselves.

It is a love that makes room for us. A love that offers forgiveness, patience, and grace.

So when you feel an overwhelming pressure to have all the answers, to be perfect, or to understand why things are happening the way they are, remember that you can still come to God as you are.

There is safety in that love. There is a place to land. There is an open door.

And while I couldn’t help but surrender to God’s will this morning, I was also reminded that I could simply let myself feel what I was feeling.

God leaves room for us to just be. To speak. To share. To cry. To admit that we’re tired and that we don’t understand.

Now, please don’t confuse what I’m sharing with a lack of accountability.

If you offend someone, you still need to apologize. If you cause harm, you still need to make peace and restitution wherever possible. Faith doesn’t absolve us of responsibility for our actions.

But there is something deeply comforting about knowing that you can cry out to God and be heard. That you can come to Him despite your flaws, your mistakes, your childish behavior, your sins, and everything else in between.

God still listens.

And He still makes room for you to connect with Him.

I don’t want to turn this into a sermon, although I realize it might already feel like one, considering how much I’ve approached this from a spiritual perspective.

But more than anything, I want to leave you with this: it’s going to be okay.

Now, if you ask me how I know, I wish I could point to some magical source of certainty beyond what God has done in my own life.

I can’t.

Even as I write this, there are parts of my life that I genuinely don’t know how they’re going to work out. I don’t have a neat explanation for everything I’m experiencing, and I can’t promise you that every situation will unfold the way I want it to.

But I am thankful that I don’t have to go through any of it pretending to be alone. I can call out to God. I can reach for Him. I can tell Him exactly how I feel, and I can trust that He hears me.

So, this week, I want you to remember the roller coaster.

It might go high. It might turn left when you expect it to turn right. It might move faster than you’re comfortable with, or slow down when you’re desperate to get somewhere.

But stay strapped in.

Think about the way the attendant pulls at your safety belt before the ride begins, making sure it’s secure. I like to imagine God reminding us in those moments, “I’ve got this. I’ve got you. You’re safe with Me.”

The ride might be fast. It might be bumpy. At some point, you might even feel like you’re going to throw up.

But He is with you.

And for me, that has to be enough.

I won’t always understand what’s happening. I won’t always have the answers, and sometimes I won’t even have the clarity to understand what I’m feeling.

But if there’s one thing I’ve come to believe about my life, it’s that God has not made a mistake by being God.

Waiting is uncomfortable. Patience is difficult. His Grace is sufficient for me. HE loves us. And he will always give us another chance at the great life he envisions for us.

Surrender can feel like giving up the very thing you’ve spent years trying to hold together.

But I’m learning that submission is far better than living with the illusion that I’m in control. I am tired, scared, confused, hopeful, sad but above all? Loved.
Even in the midst of my tears and fears, I know he loves me and always make space for me. 

Till we speak again, stay up.

“If you could ask God for two things right now, what would they be?”

Somebody asked me yesterday and I thought about it for a second.

The first two things that came to mind were healing and joy.

And when they asked me why, I had to think about that too.

Because everybody’s needs are different. We understand that.

But I think it’s interesting how, at different phases and stages of our lives, the things we prioritize—and the things we consider most important—can change.

At this particular moment in my life, those were the first two things that came to mind.

Healing.

Joy.

And I think a lot of that has to do with getting older.

Not in some cliché “you’re 30-plus now” kind of way.

I mean that as we get older, the choices we make—and sometimes the choices we didn’t make—start to show up in our bodies.

Things ache a little more.

Pain doesn’t always disappear as quickly as it used to.

You start becoming more aware of the things that have been sitting quietly in the background of your life.

And for me, that has made healing feel much more important.

I’ve been nursing this right knee for almost 10 years.

I’ve dealt with pain in my left side.

I occasionally have back pain.

My wrist has been hurting for the last month.

And yes, money is great to have. Money can help solve a lot of problems.

But even with the fact that these have been some of the most expensive months of my life—buying a house, family commitments, and everything else that comes with life—the first thing that came to mind wasn’t money.

It was healing.

And joy.

Because by the grace of God, there are certain things I already have.

I know I can talk to God and that He hears me.

Even in all of my mess.

All of my sin.

All of my confusion.

All of the ways I don’t always get it right.

I still have confidence that when I speak to God, He hears me.

There is something powerful about that.

And when I thought about what I wanted from God in this season, it wasn’t a new car.

It wasn’t more money.

It wasn’t even necessarily another tangible thing.

It was healing.

It was joy.

It was direction.

It was favor.

Those intangible, somewhat unspoken things that you can’t necessarily touch or put in a bank account.

And I think that’s worth paying attention to.

Because if I asked you this same question right now, your answer might be completely different.

Maybe you’re asking God for a job.

Maybe you’re praying for your visa to get picked.

Maybe you’re praying for a baby for yourself, your friend, your sister, or your brother.

Maybe you’re asking God to fix your finances.

Maybe you’re asking for a relationship.

Maybe you’re asking for peace.

There are so many things that we can seek from God.

And none of those things are wrong.

But I think it’s important to understand where you are standing in this particular season of your life.

What are you actually seeking?

What has become primary to you?

For me, right now, the things I’m craving from God are mostly intangible.

Healing.

Joy.

Direction.

Favor.

And I think recognizing that has actually helped me understand myself a little better.

Maybe that’s what it can do for you too.

Maybe it means tweaking your outlook on the world.

Maybe it means changing your prayer points so they more accurately reflect what you actually need from God right now.

You know that better than anybody else.

I can’t decide that for you.

But I do think it’s worth exploring.

So I’ll leave you with the question:

If you could ask God for two things right now, what would they be?

And then take it one step further.

If you could ask God for two things for someone in your life—not for yourself—what would they be?

Compare those two answers.

Maybe they’ll tell you something about where you are right now.

Maybe they’ll tell you something about the season you’re in.

Or maybe they’ll simply give you something worth thinking about as you move forward.

Either way, I think it’s worth asking.

---

There’s been a lot of love around my writing lately, and I feel like I thank you all every week, which sometimes feels a little weird because I don’t want to sound like I’m begging for attention.

But genuinely, I’m grateful that all of you reading this right now have chosen to be here.

So thank you. All three of you. jk jk

I really appreciate it.

The last week has been a little weird with work and some of the changes happening around me, but I’m trying to keep my head up and stay as grounded as possible.

And while I was out walking today, something came to me.

I noticed a tree in someone’s backyard that had grown over their porch, providing what looked like incredible shade. It reminded me of something my manager told me a few months ago. During a really bad storm, a tree fell into their home. They ended up spending thousands of dollars not only getting the tree removed, but also repairing the damage to the house.

And it got me thinking:

Is it possible that something God planted for good can be mismanaged—or simply allowed to grow unchecked—to the point where it eventually becomes a problem?

Think about that tree.

It probably started as something beautiful. It grew and provided shade. Maybe at some point it was a place for kids to play, somewhere to sit, somewhere to hang clothes, or simply something nice to look at.

And then, over time, it grew beyond its boundaries.

Now it’s across your window or porch, and suddenly you’re spending $15,000 trying to fix a problem that started as a blessing.

That thought stuck with me.

I started thinking about the things in my own life that may have started as blessings but, somewhere along the way, may have become hindrances.

The things that can slowly become a god in your life because you become so concerned with maintaining them, protecting them, or looking a certain way that you allow them to creep in and steal your joy.

I don’t know what that is for you.

Maybe it’s your career. Maybe it’s money. Maybe it’s a relationship. Maybe it’s your image, your home, your accomplishments, or even the way you want other people to perceive you.

Whatever it is, I hope you take some time to interrogate it.

Ask yourself whether something that was once a blessing has grown beyond its intended place in your life.

Because sometimes the problem isn’t that God gave us too much.

Sometimes the problem is that we didn’t know when to prune it.

---

Since I moved in, I’ve been setting up the house very slowly and taking care of things. There are so many cool things I can’t wait to show you guys when I get back from my trip.

But something funny has happened along the way.

I’ve realized that my taste is no longer aligned with my bank account.

Maybe there was a time when it was.

Maybe there wasn’t.

But as of today, I can confidently report that my taste and my bank account are no longer in alignment.

Because tell me why I was sitting in bed, scrolling through my feed, and naturally my algorithm is now completely filled with home-related content.

Which is fine. I love the inspiration.

But why am I watching a video, see a lamp, and immediately think, Oh, that’s a really cool lamp. I should screenshot this and see if I can find it.

So I screenshot it.

I search for it.

And I find out the lamp is $3,000.

Three thousand American dollars.

For a lamp.

Why is a lamp $3,000? What exactly is this lamp doing? Is it paying the light bill too?

So I thought, Okay. Let me find a dupe.

I go to Dupe.com, type it in, and the “dupe” is $1,790.

At that point, I just had to laugh.

why are random home things so expensive???

Honestly, it might be cheaper to just get punched in the face and go see the light that way.

I was humbled.

I remain humbled.

So yeah, I’m going to need to figure this out.

And if there are any brands out there that want to work together, you know where to find me. Please, please, please send those brand deals my way.

Because clearly, we have a problem.

---

But anyway, I hope you’re having a fantastic week.

And I hope you spend some time this week thinking about whatever it is in your life that may have grown beyond being a source of joy.

What started as a blessing?

What have you allowed to become too big?

What needs to be pruned?

Think about it.

And as we head into fall and flu season, take care of yourself, too. Think about your health, your flu shot, and what you need to do to prepare for the season ahead.

I pray that we all remain safe, healthy, and grounded.

As always, my love, my love, my love to all of you.

I hope you have a fantastic rest of the week.

Until next time, stay up.

What an incredibly ridiculous thing to hear coming from me of all people!
What in the blasphemy?!
Oya cam dan, calm downnnnnn!
It’s a realization I started to see more clearly over the last few months, particularly as I’ve been forced to stay still.

Maybe I’ll reference this every single time for the next five years. Maybe not five years, but certainly the next few weeks, because I just bought a house.

I’m incredibly proud of this house. I’m humbled by what it represents and everything it took to get here. But one of the interesting things about buying a home is that, during the process of waiting to close, there are typically expectations from your lender and the people you’re buying from that you remain local as much as possible. No random or drastic purchases. No unnecessary financial changes. Just… stay put.

So for more than three months, I stayed my behind at home.

I didn’t travel anywhere. I didn’t book any flights.

Matter of fact, the last trip I took was almost last-minute. It cost me more money than I would have liked and ate into my travel budget for the year, especially after I had promised myself I would plan trips well in advance to avoid spending unnecessarily.

But here’s the thing: that trip did exactly what I needed it to do.

I enjoyed my time away. I relaxed. I disconnected from everything.

And then, this morning, I found myself driving to the gym and feeling absolutely no sense of happiness.

Maybe it was just the two-to-three-minute stretch of driving before 8 a.m. that makes you question the entire world. But even with everything I have to be grateful for—my health, my coverage, my sanity, my family, my home, and God’s grace—I just felt… nothing.

And that nothingness felt much closer to sadness than emptiness.

My first thought was, “Ah. I need to travel.”

And then, almost immediately, I stopped myself.

Because what is that actually going to do?

Sure, I’ll feel better temporarily. I’ll book a flight, get excited about the destination, wear some great outfits, eat incredible food, see something beautiful, and probably feel like myself again.

For a couple of weeks.

Until the flight home.

And then I’ll still be sitting with the same unresolved issues. The same things that need attention. The same conversations I haven’t had. The same realities I’ve been trying to outrun.

Traveling won’t fix those things.

The Work Is at Home

I’ve spent the last few years running toward the next destination.

And I don’t say that as someone who doesn’t genuinely love travel. There is almost nothing more beautiful to my soul than standing on a balcony overlooking a new city, sitting on a beach, or taking in an incredible view and being reminded of how good God is.

I’ve raced toward 40 countries because there is still so much of the world I want to see.

But sometimes, being away from home is what makes you realize how much work needs to happen at home.

Not necessarily in the physical house, but in the foundation of the life where your feet are actually planted.

I remember being in my last relationship and arguing with my partner about how much happier we seemed whenever we traveled together.

And maybe we were.

There’s something about checking into a beautiful hotel, an all-inclusive resort, or a nice Airbnb. Having outfits planned for the day. Going to dinner. Exploring somewhere new. Everything feels intentional.

But what happens when you realize you forgot to be intentional at home?

When you stopped planning dates.

When quality time became whatever was left over after work, errands, and everything else.

When the late-night conversations that could have strengthened your bond kept getting postponed.

The truth is, it’s much easier for me to think, pause, meditate, and connect with God when I’m away from home.

But why?

Why is it so difficult to do those same things when I’m sitting in my living room?

Because the noise becomes too much.

We allow so many influences into our lives that we become overstimulated to the point where we’re unable to appreciate the very place we’re standing.

My Escape Was Disguised as a Passion

The last two, maybe three years, I’ve been running away from a lot.

But what makes me happy today is realizing that I’ve also done a lot of the difficult work. The conversations. The uncomfortable decisions. The delays. The pushback. The moments where I’ve had to sit with consequences instead of immediately trying to escape them.

And somewhere along the way, I realized something:

I’ve always loved traveling.

But sometimes, it was also an escape from reality.

And I think that’s an important distinction.

Because even if I become the biggest travel blogger in the world—which, by the way, I do intend to start taking much more seriously this year—I still want to remember that home is where the work happens.

I know I’ve been saying that for a while.

But I truly mean it this time.

Even if I become the most prominent travel influencer you come across, I want the reality of my everyday life to be truer to who I am than the version of me you see on vacation.

Because it is incredibly easy to get lost in the planning.

The next trip.

The next hotel.

The perfect flight.

The right outfits.

For the ladies reading this, I know packing can be stressful. But personally, I’ve got traveling down to a science.

I have a toiletry bag for short trips.

A toiletry bag for long trips.

A pre-packed bag that works for either.

And by the grace of God, I have a passport that gets me into a decent number of countries without much trouble. Sometimes it’s just a quick Google search to figure out whether I need a visa.

There is something so compelling about being away.

And that’s where the challenge lies.

Because sometimes, traveling is a metaphor.

It’s procrastination.

It’s avoidance.

It’s kicking the can down the road and convincing yourself that the next destination will somehow solve what you’re unwilling to confront where you are.

Learning to Love Where You Are

I’ve met people who genuinely enjoy their evenings at home.

With their partners.

Their friends.

Their families.

They go to local restaurants. They take evening walks. They sit quietly in the homes they’ve built.

And I used to wonder how people could be so content with what seemed like such an ordinary life.

I used to question how people ended up in happy relationships, gained weight, got comfortable, and stopped chasing the next thing.

But honestly?

When you’re happy and grateful to simply exist in the orbit of the people and things you’ve built, you don’t always feel the need to go somewhere else.

Now, don’t get me wrong.

I am incredibly grateful to be saddled with the tremendous burden of wanting to see the world.

And I will see the world.

We’re hopefully on our way to 45 countries before the end of this year. I still need to figure out how I’m going to make all of that work.

And if you see me in a country near you, please say hello.

Maybe we’ll even hit 50 before the end of next year.

But that’s not the point.

The point is that a random Monday, sitting in my home, looking at my computer and preparing to share this blog post with you, is where I want joy to reign.

Not just when I’m in 7A on a British Airways flight to somewhere new.

Not just when I’m checking into a hotel.

Not just when I’m standing in front of a beautiful landscape.

But here.

In my home.

In my ordinary days.

In the parts of life that don’t make it onto Instagram.

What Is Traveling for You?

And I’m not saying there is no joy in my heart right now.

There is.

But I want you to think about what “traveling” represents for you.

For some people, it’s the weekend.

You can’t wait for Friday because you need to be outside, at a boozy brunch or on your phone at the club, with someone else running away from the person you cannot stop thinking about, anywhere but where you currently are.

For others, it’s constantly being busy.

Church activities. Helping people. Starting another project. Taking on another responsibility.

Not because those things are inherently bad, but because sitting still with the reality of who you are and what you’re going through feels too uncomfortable.

So traveling won’t fix you.

It will open your eyes to the incredible beauty of the world. Absolutely.

But until you can see that same beauty in the reflection of sunlight through your window, in a dimly lit room at home, or even when you wake up at 3 a.m. and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the way to the bathroom, you’ll keep chasing the next high.

The next flight.

The next relationship.

The next achievement.

The next distraction.

Until eventually, you find your route back home.

So take this as your confirmation code.

You’ve been cleared to board this next phase of your life.

A phase where you somehow stay grounded but lifted at the same time.

Where you look up and appreciate how high you can go, while still paying attention to the foundation beneath your feet.

There is no need to squeeze yourself into the middle seat of life, constantly trying not to inconvenience anyone.

Let yourself take up space.

Chase the kind of high where, when you turn left or right and look out your window every morning, you feel the same gratitude, awe, and peace that you feel when you’re flying toward your next destination.

A Little More Vulnerability Than I Planned

I know this is coming to you on a Monday and not Wednesday, but there has been a lot going on in my heart lately. It has been an especially hard couple of weeks. Months really.

Hi,
I stumbled upon your blog and I’m genuinely glad I did. I would’ve left this as a comment, but it got a little too long, and I didn’t want to shrink it down just to fit the comment box. 

I think it’s amazing that you’ve been doing this for so many years, continuing to return to the blog, think, reflect, and put your thoughts into words. I started reading with your posts from 2021, and I haven’t made it through everything yet, but even from what I’ve read, I can appreciate the body of work you’ve built over time.

What I enjoy most is that you don’t just write about things; you sit with them. Your stories, experiences, and musings have made me look at certain things from a slightly different angle, and I’ve picked up little ideas I can apply to my own life. To me, that’s one of the most meaningful things writing can do.

I also appreciate the honesty in your writing. There’s a quiet strength in being willing to share not only the good moments, but also the difficult things, uncertainties, disappointments, and thoughts you’re still trying to make sense of. That honesty is part of what makes the writing feel real.

Seeing posts going back to 2013 also reminded me of something in my own life. I’ve been thinking about “my one thing,” which I abandoned for a while because life got busy. Your archive reminded me that perhaps I don’t have to wait until everything is perfect to return to it. Sometimes, I just have to keep doing the thing that matters to me.

I know you’ve probably been told before that you’re a good writer, but I wanted to appreciate more than that. I appreciate the thought behind your writing, the honesty, and the years of showing up to do the work.

I’m glad I stumbled across your blog, and I’ll be making my way through more of the archive.

I received the message above today from someone who has been reading this blog. It brought tears to my eyes because, honestly, I’ve been struggling with a lot. Omo I have cried a lot these last few years o.

I don’t necessarily want to talk about all of it right now.

I’ve mostly been trying to talk to God and my family because sometimes I feel like nobody really gets it. And the truth is, not everybody can help. Not everybody will understand. I am carrying the weight of ambition, sadness, regret, pain, longing and so much more while waiting for a sign or a chance.

But this community has always been a space where we’ve shared truth, love, and honesty.

And I hope that those of you who have followed me through all of this—through the flaws, the evolution, the successes, and the difficult seasons—feel proud of me.

Not because I live for anyone else’s approval.

I live for myself and for God.

But I hope you feel a sense of pride watching me continue to grow.

The last few years have been hard.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Financially.

And God has seen me through so much of it.

But if I’m being honest, this season has sometimes felt more difficult than anything I’ve experienced before.

Maybe because I’m doing more of it on my own.

Maybe because I’m tired of feeling like every day without the things I want, or the things that fill me up, is somehow another day I’m missing out on the rest of my life.

There is so much happening that I want to thank God for.

And yet, I still find myself asking for more.

Not necessarily more things.

More peace.

More clarity.

More restoration.

More alignment.

The Long Layover

A lot of my life feels like sitting in an airport during a long layover.

You know the destination will eventually be beautiful.

You’re optimistic about where you’re going.

But the waiting is uncomfortable.

Maybe you missed a connection.

Maybe there was an unexpected delay.

Maybe the route changed completely.

And you’re still sitting there, wondering how much longer you have to wait before life finally begins to feel like the thing you prayed for.

That’s how life feels for me sometimes.

I’m carrying the burden of being a firstborn.

I’m carrying the responsibility of praying and holding space for my friends and family.

There’s so much happening.

My health is top of mind.

My parents are aging. I’m actually thinking of intimacy, marriage, building a family more clearly.

I’m grateful for this new home and this new phase of life, but I’m also thinking more deeply about what settling down actually looks like.

What does that map look like?

What does it feel like?

I don’t have all the answers.

Not even close.

But in this exact moment, I know that even in my pain, my chaos, and my difficulty, there is still a calling on my life to share, inspire, and create.

So, as one of my favorite voices, Ryan Clark, often says on The Pivot—accept, adjust, and move forward.

That’s what I’m trying to do.

Accept what is.

Adjust where I need to.

And move forward in whatever capacity that means.

I’m patiently and eagerly seeking God’s face for new beginnings, new opportunities, second chances, healing, restoration, blessings, shorter bus routes, easier transitions—whatever the case may be.

And as you’re reading this tonight, tomorrow morning, or whenever you come across these words, I send you my love.

I know many of us are seeking God’s face right now.

And I’ll leave you with something I heard in a sermon today:

God will not explain Himself, but He will reveal Himself.

And I hope that whatever destination you’re headed toward, whatever journey you’re currently navigating, and whatever season you’re traveling through, peace be unto you.

Thank you for holding space.

Thank you for replying.

Thank you for not letting me feel alone, even when I feel the most alone.

Until we talk again,

Stay up.

Feel free to leave me a comment or share your thoughts if you feel led to. Would love to hear from you.

The Uncomfortable Work of Knowing Yourself

The simply complex thing about self-reflection is that it can be calm and quiet, but it can also be invasive and sometimes difficult. You don’t get to decide which version you get. Many times, it decides for you.

Amongst all the things that go into being a fully functioning adult is knowing yourself. And knowing yourself can mean many things. Oftentimes, it takes a life event or a punctuated incident to make you pause, reassess, and then decide who you are. Who you really are.

For many people, you can coast through much of life with the same knowledge of the last-reviewed version of yourself.

What do I mean by that?

You can end up in a situation where you believe you know who you are, but you’re functioning off an outdated version. A version from years prior that you’ve simply carried forward, even as the parts of your life around you change and evolve.

Why do I say this?

Because I was in that scenario.

I felt like I knew who I was based on the context of who I needed to be at a particular time in my life. Maybe it came from the world I was in, the challenges I was facing, or the season I was navigating.

But this year, and honestly probably the last two years, have started to invite me into a conversation about the new me.

And it’s not pretty.

It’s not pretty because I am challenging the notions of who I said I was to myself. There are parts of me that I believed were a particular way, and upon review, I’m realizing maybe I’m not so sure. Maybe I’m not so certain that certain areas of my life are as locked in as I once thought.

In this particular discussion, I’m talking about everything from my discipline to narcissism, anxiety, trauma, and things of that nature.

It’s interesting because this post is actually coming to you a little bit after my mid-year review. And the mid-year review is interesting because it forced me to have some conversations around certain areas of my life.

Some of them were pillars I never thought would be questioned.

For example, I—and most people around me—would say I’m a very disciplined person. Sometimes they’ll say that because of the amount of discipline I’ve applied to my work or my fitness. I show up every day.

But I can see behind the scenes. I can see the things you guys don’t see.

And this is an honest place for us to share various things, so I’ll share this with you.

I love a sweet treat after dinner.

I love it.

Since I moved to Texas, my biggest one has been my cookie-stuffed cookies from the farmer’s market. They usually come with a scoop or two of ice cream, and they are so delicious. They feel good. They taste good.

And in those 15 or 20 minutes, nothing matters.

But I also know that I’ve just consumed arguably 300% of the amount of sugar I’m supposed to consume in one day in one sitting.

Now, I don’t have it every day. In fact, I’ve had to replace it with other things. But if someone asked me what I would finish dinner with, the options would probably be:

Number one: a warm cookie with ice cream on top.

Number two: a Magnum white chocolate ice cream bar.

Number three: gari, sugar, and milk with groundnuts.

Number four: a bowl of cereal.

I usually just want something sweet and milky to finish the evening.

It doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t need to happen every day. And I’m okay with the fact that those are the choices I’ve made.

But I also know I’d probably be much closer to my fitness and body goals if I didn’t assume that those choices had no impact.

Another reason I know I’m not at my fitness goals is stress.

I know I’m stressed.

There’s a stress that comes from work, from being overworked. There’s stress that comes from things in my personal life. There’s stress that comes from family. There’s stress that comes from interpersonal relationships.

I have less of some of those now, probably because I’ve gotten better at isolating myself and removing myself from scenarios or situations that I believe bring me unhappiness or discomfort.

One of the beautiful things about maturity is being able to see a problem from a distance and make a conscious decision not to allow it to influence you, affect you, or lay claim to your happiness.

So, with that being said, my discipline in those first two areas, in terms of consistency, is accurate.

But I also know I don’t have the consistency I want with praying or reading my Bible, or in some of the other areas that matter to me, including taking care of my mental health.

There have been conversations I’ve had over the last few months and weeks around positioning myself for a better future.

I’ve made many mistakes in my young life, thankfully none too critical. I’ve hurt people that I love. I’ve hurt myself by attempting—or believing—that I was protecting people that I love.

I’ve hurt people by not being as transparent or honest about things going on. I’ve used white lies, no lies, silence, or some combination of all of the above.

I know the impact I’ve had in the spaces I occupy.

Now, the chapter I’m in is intensely focused on not repeating some of those mistakes.

I’m careful about not reintegrating into things that have either broken me or caused friction in my life previously.

And it’s hard.

Oh, it is hard.

Which brings me back to the conversation I started around re-evaluating yourself.

There was a time when I was serially dating.

I was talking to multiple women at the same time, trying to figure out in my mind who I thought was the right person for me. I would do pros and cons. I would evaluate how I felt with this person. I would evaluate the possibility of a future with this person or that person.

It got to a point in my life where I realized none of that works.

There was also a season in my life where I was the king of long-distance relationships.

People don’t realize this whenever I say it, but since around 2014, I have almost exclusively been in long-distance relationships.

Not always by choice.

But then I realized it was by choice to a certain degree.

I was so protective of my personal space that I wanted a way to be in a relationship where there was always some distance. Three or four days here, a week here at most, and at the end of the day, you go to your house and I go to mine.

That doesn’t serve me anymore.

That version of a relationship doesn’t serve me anymore.

And it brings me angst every day.

I wake up wanting to do things. I want to explore the world with my person in tow.

That’s not to say I’m not happy with my current life setup.

I am.

But you can be happy and still crave or want more than what you currently have.

Not in a completely invasive way.

Going back to the serial dating thing, I feel like I can share this from a place of growth and honesty, but also from a place of transparency.

Some of that was rooted in narcissism.

I knew who I was. I knew what I held. I knew who I was as a man in today’s society. I knew the values that I brought. I knew the value I brought into the life of someone I was dating or interested in.

But at some point, I still needed external validation.

For a long time, words of affirmation was my number one love language.

And the reason it was is because I needed to be told that I was valued and important.

That was primarily because I grew up in a household where that proclamation of greatness or value wasn’t something that was outwardly spoken about.

You weren’t told that you were great.

You weren’t told that you were smart.

You weren’t told that you were talented.

I don’t remember hearing those things from my parents or from those around me.

I don’t ever remember a teacher looking at me and going, “Wow.”

The first time I ever felt valued—and anybody who went to secondary school with me and was in my class that’s reading this would remember this incident—was when I left my small school in Mayflower, Ikenne, and transferred to Redeemer’s High School.

I was in Yoruba class.

I had grown up with my grandparents, so I had learned Yoruba and was pretty good at it. I ended up being one of the top students in Yoruba.

I remember the first day we had Yoruba lesson. Our teacher asked us some questions in Yoruba, and we had an exercise. I was answering everything so easily, and she was so impressed.

The whole class was like, “Oh, wow. This new kid is a Yoruba guru.”

People started coming to me for help with Yoruba lessons and things of that nature.

And honestly, it felt fantastic.

It felt so nice to be valued for just being.

The challenge that also came with that was realizing that if your validation comes from external influences or external pillars, you will always go back to seek it.

The conversation around love and importance for a lot of men, especially a lot of Nigerian or Black men, is that you connect your value to what you bring to the people around you. What you bring to your family. What you bring to your friends. How you help them. How they feel like you’re showing up for them.

Most of who you are becomes connected simply to that.

But at the same time, you are more than that.

So, if you haven’t done the exercise of learning yourself internally, you seek that validation elsewhere.

And if you happen to be half-decently attractive or have a little bit of money, a little bit of swag, a little class, or whatever the case may be, it can come from women. It can come from external sources.

For a long time, the validation wasn’t necessarily from women.

I wanted it from my job.

I wanted my manager to tell me I did a good job.

If I got critical feedback, it would bother me because, in my mind, who were they to think I was less than because of the work I was doing?

I had to be excellent.

I had to be this or that to feel that value.

And you carry that into some of the other pockets of your life—your relationships, your friendships, your romantic relationships.

You’re looking for that thing.

It’s the reason why you have some people who go into certain relationships, or you watch Pop the Balloon, for example, and someone says, “I didn’t feel the spark immediately. It just wasn’t there.”

And you ask yourself: What is that spark?

What does that mean?

For some people, it’s the thing that allows that pocket within them that needs to be filled to feel filled.

If it isn’t filled in that moment, they feel like something is missing.

So you find yourself trying to satisfy that forever.

And it becomes an incredible drug.

You are constantly looking for something outside of yourself to make you feel valued.

And that’s where the therapy comes in.

That’s where the conversation around learning yourself and loving yourself comes in.

I remember when I started working with my therapist a couple of years ago.

Oh my God, it was humbling.

There was an exercise she had us do one time where she said, “I want you to wake up every day and say something nice that you like about yourself.”

Every single day.

Oh God, I hated that exercise.

I absolutely hated it.

I would say things like, “I love my nose. I love my head.”

It felt so juvenile.

It just didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel exciting either because I was never raised like that.

I was never raised to appreciate those things about myself.

If anything, I wasn’t raised to appreciate them for myself, within myself. I wanted them to be appreciated by the person I liked, the person who liked me, or the people around me.

Sometimes today, when somebody hits on me and I’m not moved by it, a lot of times it’s because I feel like I’ve gotten to the point where I actually do know who I am a little bit more.

But I still ask myself: To what end?

What is the reason for this feeling?

What is the reason for soliciting this thing?

And sometimes you don’t even have to ask for it.

Sometimes it’s just given to you.

There was a time in my life when everybody knew that I loved smelling good.

I would put on a nice outfit, put on a nice cologne combination, go outside, and then come back in thinking, “Wow, I went outside and nobody said I smelled good.”

Nobody said this or that.

And it was like, why do you need that?

Why isn’t it enough that you feel that for yourself and already appreciate that within yourself?

That has taken some work.

It has taken some self-reflection.

It has taken some self-understanding.

But I know what it means now.

I know what it means when my body is asking for certain things.

I know what it means when I’m distancing myself because I’m seeking something.

That’s where that comes from.

I’m also able to recognize that I’m in a season of my life where I need less to be more.

Maybe I can hear myself getting ready for long-term commitment in terms of marriage or something like that.

I just want to be able to cook dinner with the woman I love and watch a movie. Listen to our playlist. See the world.

The next 40 countries I want to see, I definitely don’t want to see them alone.

I’d love to do that with the person I’m building that forever future with.

But at the same time, I need to understand that it starts inside, with me being content.

Shout out to one of my best friends who, a few years ago, told me I needed to be comfortable being alone.

And for a few months, I was strictly in that space.

Matter of fact, I was so intentional about it.

I didn’t want anything serious. I didn’t want to be with anyone.

I just wanted the opportunity to fall deeper in love with me.

To understand what I like.

To understand who I am outside of the noise. Outside of my career. Outside of this blog. Outside of editing videos for you guys online. Outside of all those things.

The wordsmith.

Someone who can sing.

Someone who can cook.

Yeah, those are all great.

Those are all things you guys see.

But when the lights are dim and you’re alone, who are you?

What brings you joy?

What fills you up?

What does all of that for you?

That’s a question I’ve had to ask over the last two and a half, going on three years.

The answers aren’t always pretty.

There was a time in my life when my stress levels were so high that I was self-medicating.

I’m not going to go into the specifics, but I think all of you here are smart enough to read between the lines.

Almost every night, I would indulge in something that made me calmer, made me less anxious, and made it a little easier to engage with the world because I wasn’t facing my sorrows.

I wasn’t facing the challenges I had.

I wasn’t facing where I was lacking.

And that brings me to something else: the super intense value that needs to come from who you are partnering with.

I think I grew up in a household where I didn’t have a voice to speak up.

It wasn’t just the household. I think it was also much of our culture, where you were meant to just be a good kid.

Good kid.

Do well in school.

Do all the things you need to do.

Don’t rock the boat.

Don’t be disrespectful.

In many cases, expressing your feelings, displeasure, or discontent about certain things was seen as disrespect.

So you end up largely quiet, largely silent, largely accepting of everything that’s happening.

Because who are you to speak against your family?

I have been through certain things in my life—in romantic relationships, personal friendships, and things of that nature—that I have never spoken about to anyone.

Because in my mind, I believed that transferring or opening that box would make the person I love, or the person who loves me, sad.

So it was my responsibility to hold all of that within.

And I know some of this is deeply connected to being a firstborn child.

It was my responsibility to hold it all.

Do not put that on the people you love and care about.

And you can do that for a while.

But then what ends up happening is that silence and resentment go together.

I want you to understand this today:

Silence is the healthy soil that resentment grows in.

I’ll say that again in case you missed it.

Silence is the healthy soil that resentment grows and thrives in.

It will germinate. It will grow. It will thrive in that space of silence where you don’t speak and don’t talk about what your needs are, what the gaps are, or what the opportunities are, for whatever reason.

Some people don’t speak on anything because they want to weaponize it and use it against people they love or people who love them.

I don’t believe that was the cornerstone for me.

Mine was more so this:

Have you ever been in a scenario where somebody hurts your feelings by doing something that hits an area that’s important to you?

Dependability is a big one for me.

Let’s say I ask you to help me with something.

You say, “Sure, I’ll help you.”

Cool.

I say, “Hey, at eight o’clock, can you please do X?”

You say, “Yes, I will do X at eight o’clock.”

Eight o’clock comes.

You don’t do it.

And then, in many cases, you have a story as to why you didn’t do it.

Now, most people know what I’m about to say.

Imagine the person then asks you:

“Hey, are you upset?”

No shit, Sherlock.

Of course I’m upset.

But what’s the missing part of all of that?

The missing part is when the person then asks you to explain what it is that made you upset.

I don’t know if anybody else feels the same way, but I hate that.

I absolutely hate it.

Because I’m thinking, you already knew that this upset me.

Rehashing it is even more upsetting because you could have just avoided it.

It could have been avoided.

You know it could have been avoided.

And now you’re making me relive that experience.

I don’t enjoy that.

So for me, a lot of times, what that ends up looking like is silence.

And remember what I said earlier about silence and resentment?

Hand in hand.

I’m like, “No, it’s okay. Whatever. Just let it go. Calm. It’s fine.”

But it’s not fine.

Because then the next thing happens.

And the next thing after that happens.

And the next thing after that happens.

And all of a sudden, you can’t stand the presence of this person.

You don’t want to speak with this person.

You don’t want to spend time with this person.

All of those things start to grow.

And you start to find yourself.

For me, a lot of times, what that ends up looking like is silence.

And remember what I said earlier about silence and resentment? They go hand in hand.

So I’m like, “Nah, it’s okay. Whatever. Just let it go.”

Calm. It’s fine.

But it’s not fine.

Because then the next thing happens, and the next thing after that, and the next thing after that. And all of a sudden, you can’t stand the presence of this person. You don’t want to speak with them. You don’t want to spend time with them.

And all of those things start to grow.

You start to find yourself more and more displeased, more and more unhappy in that scenario.

So one thing I’ve learned about myself today is that I have to speak up.

Now, there is also a fine balance. I don’t ever want to sound like a nag. I don’t want to feel like I have to repeat the same thing over and over again.

So, for me, a lot of times it’s simply:

“Hey, this upset me.”

Or:

“This didn’t make me happy.”

I also feel like I require the people in my life, my friendships, and the people who occupy space in my life to understand that this is the level of commitment I’m comfortable with when it comes to my feelings.

I’m happy to tell you that whatever you did hurt my feelings and this is how I feel.

But I don’t necessarily want to do more than that.

I don’t want to have to talk about it three, four, or five times because you don’t seem to understand that something is truly hurtful, or that something doesn’t make me feel loved or seen.

So before, I would be quiet.

Now, I will speak on it.

But I also speak on it strategically.

“Hey, this is how I feel about this thing. I want you to know.”

And then I leave them with the responsibility to do with that information what they will.

That’s part of the work.

That’s part of the growth.

That’s part of the journey we’re talking about.

Now, I don’t think I’ve slept well in many months. Most nights, I wake up multiple times a night.

There’s a lot on my mind.

My future is on my mind. My immediate future is on my mind.

For many months, I was worried about everything from buying my house, my car, saving enough money, being ready for emergencies, retirement, family—all of it.

And ladies and gentlemen, somebody’s tired.

I have probably cried more than I ever have in my life over the last two years.

I have so much within my heart that I’m asking God for.

I have so much that I’m praying for.

And many times, it feels like waiting is just so hard.

Waiting feels so challenging because you pray these prayers and you don’t know if they’re going to translate into what you’re necessarily seeking from God.

I’m not confused about whether God is listening. I know God is listening.

I just don’t know if that translates into the thing I’m asking for.

I’m asking, “Hey, I’m asking for this thing. Will I or shall I be getting this thing?”

I don’t know.

And sometimes I ask myself whether happiness is going to come from this particular pocket of my life.

Whether it’s clarity around my transition here, clarity around my house, the big life events, clarity around my life partner, or my overall future.

Future safety and coverage for my parents. Happiness for my siblings and my friends.

You carry all of these burdens and all of these feelings in your heart.

And it is exhausting.

It is exhausting.

I wish there was a world where everything was so simple.

And I know people will say faith is one way to sort through a lot of these feelings.

And it helps.

I can tell you for a fact that, outside of any other human being, the conversations I have with God are probably the ones that give me the most calm.

Sometimes it’s praying about it.

Sometimes it’s crying about it.

Sometimes it’s simply being able to process all of it.

And I know for a fact that the place where I’ve felt the most comfort overall has been with God.

And I know that’s part of why I started this piece with a conversation around faith.

I know that I need to lean more into that because it’s not going to be on my own understanding.

Oh boy, have I tried.

Boy, have I tried to balance everything in my own head.

How many times have I said, “Oh, I’m going to do this. I’m going to do that thing.”

And then it would lead to this.

And it hasn’t.

“I’m going to make this choice and that choice, and then it’s going to translate to this.”

And it has not worked out.

But one thing I’ve learned overall is that God has always worked it out.

Now, I can honestly tell you that there is a lot of my life that I understand today.

And there is a lot that I’m still seeking answers for.

Sometimes it is wanting to build the future.

Sometimes it’s wanting to correct mistakes of the past.

I know what I believe my future looks like.

And I know that it requires work.

I think that’s another thing I wanted to leave you all with today.

People say that the good things in life are free.

But the part they don’t tell you is that while they may be free, they’re hard to come by and even harder to maintain.

They require work.

Your joy might come freely, but you have to work to guard it.

Your salvation is given to you freely because it was paid for, but you have to work to protect it.

Your relationships are the same.

You might stumble upon a friend. Maybe you just happened to sit next to each other in chemistry class 15 years ago.

But it requires work to continue pouring into and maintaining that relationship.

All I’m trying to say is, yes, the good things in life are free.

Yes, they will come to you as blessings.

Yes, in many cases, they will feel easy to come by.

But like I said earlier, they require work to keep.

I mentioned earlier that I am very tired.

I’m very tired of a lot of things outside of my life.

I’m very tired of a lot of things in other areas of my life.

But I am willing to do the work for the future that I want and for the people that I want in my life going forward.

I know it might not be pretty work.

I know it might not be easy work.

I know it’s definitely not the easiest.

But it is the area I want to pour into in this season of my life.

And it’ll be done by the grace of God.

By the grace of God, and with the help of love and the people around me who continue to make me feel seen and heard, it will be done.

So here’s your mid-year review.

In summary, I’m probably the most stressed I’ve ever been while also feeling the most content with what God has done in my life.

There is one big gap in my life.

And I have brought it up directly.

I have started the conversations.

I have challenged myself.

And I am going to continue to challenge myself in that space to get the things that I want.

At the same time, don’t be surprised.

Not because I just spent a lot of money to buy my home.

But don’t be surprised if I start to pull back a little bit more on social media and these platforms.

I’m realizing that I really, really want a quiet life.

A quiet life filled with joy.

A quiet life filled with intention.

A quiet life that is mine.

Not the variation I’ve seen others have.

Not the one I’ve heard others prescribe to me.

Simply the one that I build for myself.

So I’m working on it.

It’s not perfect.

But if you realize that I’m not engaging in certain conversations with you or with someone else, understand that it is because I want this next decade, or even the next half-decade of my life, to truly, truly be centered around joy that passes understanding.

I am passionately trying to get closer to God.

I’m passionately trying to get closer to the man that I want my kids—my sons and my daughters—to be proud of.

So the work continues.

Some of it isn’t perfect.

Some of it may have hurt you in passing, whether through intention, a lack of listening, a lack of understanding, or anything of that nature.

I apologize.

This work in progress is trucking along.

And I also want to thank all of you for being here.

I hope that this piece today—I know it’s long—forces you to sit down and think through your own life.

Think through what makes you happy.

Think through what drives you.

Why do you do what you do?

Why do you feel like you must be the helper of everyone?

Why are you the people pleaser?

What is that rooted in?

What kind of trauma is that rooted in?

What kind of gap is that filling for you?

Ask yourself those questions.

Interrogate yourself to get those answers.

Because that will help you determine and shape who you are and who you’re going to be going forward.

None of this, when it comes to adulting, is easy.

Oh, it is not easy.

But it will be worth it.

So thank you all for reading.

Thank you for being here.

And if I was going to say that if nobody read this, I would be okay.

But I see the numbers.

I know y’all be here.

So shout out to you.

Those of you who don’t comment, I’m looking at you.

I will post this on my blog. I’ll also make a flyer and post this on my story.

So if you’ve read to the end of this and you don’t comment on my blog, please send me a comment on Instagram.

I would love to hear your thoughts.

And please know that this is the type of validation I’m okay with.

This is the type of validation I’m okay taking going forward.

I don’t want the other things that are rooted in vanity—my body, my outlook, my confidence, and things of that nature.

Yes, I’m grateful for them.

But more than anything, I appreciate the visibility that comes from truly being honest with myself.

Honest about the person I am.

Honest about the person I want to be.

And honest about the man I want to become going forward.

So I will leave this here.

Thank you again.

And I’ve said thank you 700 times.

But truly, truly, truly, thank you.

I do hope that you all have a fantastic rest of the weekend.

Whatever time you’re reading this, thank you.

Just go forth and truly be the version of yourself you want to be.

In all happiness and in all joy.

You deserve that.

Until next time, stay up.

It’s been such a chaotic week in terms of everything I’ve had to work through and sort out. Actually, chaotic is probably not the best word to describe it. It’s just been busy.

It’s been full of emotions—different emotions, for different reasons. But as I continue navigating this whole adulting thing, I’m realizing that there are seasons of life that simply require more from you than others. More energy. More intentionality. More thrust.

I actually just got back from the gym before I started writing this, and my lower back doesn’t hurt as much right now.

Caveat: right now.

I spent some time stretching before I left the gym, which I’m also realizing is probably just as important as the workout itself. I’m glad I pushed through it and was able to get back into the rhythm of my day.

Recently, someone asked me what intimacy means to me.

At the time, I answered pretty quickly. But afterward, I found myself sitting with the question a little longer.

For me, intimacy—both physical and non-physical—is deeply connected to trust. It’s rooted in the ability to be your most authentic self without fear of shame, disappointment, embarrassment, or rejection.

Ultimately, what we all begin to crave is connection.

Connection that’s rooted in safety and intentionality.

The problem is, it doesn’t always come easily. It doesn’t always come quickly. And sometimes, it doesn’t come at all.

Even in the places where you desire the deepest connection, it’s simply absent.

Lately, I’ve realized that whenever my heart aches, it’s usually because I feel like I’m standing on an island, surrounded by people who can see me, but with no one actually standing on the island with me.

Some of that, I’m mature enough to admit, is by design.

There was a time when my life was incredibly busy—not necessarily because I was people-pleasing, but because I was constantly surrounded by people. Casual dating. Exploring different interests. Growing my circle of friends. Building relationships everywhere I went.

But the deeper I’ve gotten to know myself, the more I’ve realized that eventually, all of that can become incredibly lonely.

I still imagine what a future wedding might look like. I think about a milestone birthday filled with people I’ve loved through every chapter of life—friends from old jobs, different cities, church communities, and every pocket of my journey.

But I’ve also come to realize that it’s possible to be surrounded by people and still feel like you’re standing alone.

Sometimes, all you really want is to be standing with someone.

I say someone intentionally because there are moments in life when community is exactly what you need. Friends matter. Family matters. But I also believe there are seasons where the beginning and the end of what your heart longs for is being deeply connected to the person who’s meant to walk through life with you.

One of the things that disappoints me most about growing up is this constant feeling that I have to do everything by myself.

Not because the people in my life have failed me.

Not because they’ve done anything wrong.

I just think there are parts of adulthood that are inherently lonely.

I worry. I work hard. Sometimes harder than I probably need to. Not because I enjoy it, but because I’m constantly thinking about what happens if I don’t.

What happens if I take my eyes off the ball?

What happens if I stop carrying everything?

I worry about ending up as one of those people standing alone on their own island.

I love my family.

I love my friends.

They each have their own places where they show up for me, and I’m grateful for that.

But I genuinely think one of the most painful feelings you can experience as an adult is loneliness.

And I know there will be people who read this and make it about themselves. Others will read it and simply feel sorry for me.

But after sitting with this for a while, I think what hurts the most isn’t either of those things.

It’s realizing that you can attract people who admire your grit, your ambition, and your determination, yet still not find the companionship you’re actually longing for.

That’s the painful part.

Looking around and realizing that there are people who genuinely enjoy spending time with you, people who care about you, people who want to be around you—but the most they can offer in that season is community.

And sometimes, community isn’t the same thing as companionship.

Sometimes they simply don’t have the capacity to give you what you need.

Safety.

Depth.

A place where you can lay everything down.

One of the things I’ve always struggled with is talking about my problems.

Not because I don’t want to.

But because I’m such an action-oriented person that I don’t enjoy talking about a problem just for the sake of talking about it.

If you’ve ever had one of those conversations with me, it usually goes something like this:

You ask me how I’m doing.

I tell you I’m stressed.

I start rambling through everything that’s on my mind.

Then somewhere in the middle of talking, I either solve the problem, stumble onto the solution, or come to the realization that it’s simply not something I can solve right now.

Oddly enough, I’m okay with all three outcomes.

Because I’ve learned that growth isn’t always about fixing everything immediately.

I’m not a magician.

I’m good at a lot of things, but I’ve also learned that I have to become comfortable with the reality that I can’t fix everything at every moment.

That doesn’t make me weak.

It just makes me human.

But that realization doesn’t erase the loneliness.

Wouldn’t it be nice to go through something difficult and feel like the people around you had the capacity, the wisdom, or even the willingness to help carry some of it with you?

One of the things I struggle with most as I get older is sharing something that’s weighing on me, only to hear, “Man… that really sucks.”

And don’t get me wrong.

Sometimes, that’s exactly what I need.

Sometimes the validation alone is enough.

Sometimes I don’t need advice.

Sometimes I don’t need solutions.

Sometimes I just need someone to acknowledge that what I’m carrying is heavy.

But there are other days when hearing, “That really sucks,” feels painfully insufficient.

Not because the person doesn’t care.

But because, in that moment, you wish someone had the ability to meet you where you actually are.

And sometimes… that’s simply not available.

Like I said at the beginning of this piece, that’s heartbreaking.

But we keep going.

We keep striving.

Because giving up has never really been an option.

That much I know.

At the same time, I think it’s okay to admit that carrying so much by yourself can be incredibly heavy.

And maybe admitting that is the first step toward letting someone help carry it one day.

Till next time.

Stay up.

Please leave me a comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2026 #WhatTheHeckMan

My people! Awww I missed y’all!!!!
Welcome back to another edition of Words of Wednesday. I am your capable host – the one and onlyyyyyy, lol abeg let me chill.

It has been a minute.

Which is actually hilarious to me because I started this year incredibly busy. I was traveling constantly — on a plane every other week, sometimes it felt like every other day — and somehow I was more consistent with writing Words of Wednesday during that season than I was during the three months where I was sitting at home going through one of the biggest life transitions I’ve ever experienced.

For those of you who are new here, welcome. If you are coming from Instagram, this is my blog. This little corner of the internet has been around since 2013. I started writing because I always felt like words were one of the gifts God gave me. It has had seasons where it was quiet, but this year I felt a strong pull to return to it.

And I think that pull has been for a reason.

There are probably a few reasons you are here.

Maybe you found me because of one of my recent viral videos from Instagram. Apparently, people enjoy watching me sit in my car. I still haven’t figured out if it is the outfit changes, the transitions, the car, or just the fact that I somehow always have something to say. Whatever it is, I appreciate you.

Maybe you found me because I started sharing my journey of buying my first home.

And honestly, all glory to God.

But today’s post comes at a very interesting time because this week marks five years at my company.

Five years.

That number means a lot to me.

Not because everything has been perfect. Not because there haven’t been challenges. Not because I believe I have somehow reached some level where life is figured out.

But because I know where I came from.

Between 2018 and 2020, I experienced two layoffs. The uncertainty, the anxiety, the feeling of wondering what was next — those moments stay with you.

So being somewhere for five years, somewhere where I have grown, been challenged, been promoted, and been trusted, is something I don’t take lightly.

It reminds me of God’s faithfulness.

One thing I have learned as I get older is that it becomes very obvious that the things we accomplish are not just because of us. And at the same time, it becomes very easy to start believing that they are.

It is easy to look around and say:

“I worked hard.”
“I made the right decisions. I was disciplined”
“I pushed myself.”

And yes, those things matter.

But there are also doors that opened that you didn’t control.

There are opportunities that appeared that you didn’t create.

There are moments where timing, preparation, favor, and grace all came together.

I believe God is present in those moments.

So if you are reading this and you are experiencing any kind of blessing — whether it is a new job, a new opportunity, growth, healing, or simply a season where things are finally starting to make sense — don’t forget where it came from.

Give yourself credit for the work you have done.

But remember the One who gave you the ability to do it.

Because the truth is, I don’t believe I am where I am because I am special.

I believe I am where I am because God has been faithful.

And that is worth celebrating.

Stay tuned because over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing more about this season — the home journey, the transition, the lessons, and everything God has been teaching me along the way.

Until next time, stay up.

Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to this week’s episode of Words of Wednesday.
Your one and only Wordsmith reporting for duty.

Earlier today, I went on my walk before the evening settled in. I was trying to catch the sunset and I kind of did, but I also kind of missed it from the angle I wanted. Which made me realize that if I want to keep doing these longer walks and still catch the views properly, I need to start earlier. The walks have gotten longer because I’ve been trying to consistently get over 10,000 steps, but now I’m realizing timing matters too.
More daylight. Better views.
Better pictures. Better moments.

And honestly, today’s walk gave me a lot to think about. A lot of curiosity-awakening thoughts. A lot of reflection. So let’s get into it.

First things first. Lloyiso’s album Never Thought I Could is Grammy-worthy. I said what I said.

It feels short enough to be an EP, but I guess that’s just the direction music is moving in these days. Either way, it is such a good body of work. It’s introspective, vulnerable, emotional.
It really explores love from a male perspective in a way that feels honest and layered.

Now, I definitely have thoughts about Loe Shimmy’s love life based on the album, but I’ll keep those to myself for now. Maybe one day I’ll get the opportunity to interview him and ask him directly. Until then, we move.

Still spinning Asake’s new album Money as well. I mentioned it last week and I stand by what I said. A few songs on there are absolutely going to become major records. Right now there’s obviously marketing push behind the album, but the real test is whether the songs continue to grow organically over the next few weeks. So far though, very strong project.

Another album I revisited today was Basketmouth’s Yabasi. What an incredible project. I randomly saw a clip of Oxlade performing one of the songs he featured on and it immediately sent me back to the album during my walk. So good. Truly one of those projects that deserved more love than it got.

Anyways.

When was the last time you truly dreamt?

And I don’t mean dreaming out of desperation. I mean dreaming out of excitement. Out of wonder. Out of possibility.

I’m currently navigating one of the biggest decisions I’ve ever made as an adult and it’s been interesting watching myself process it all in real time. Hopefully by the grace of God, everything works out the way it’s supposed to. I’ve prayed about it, but honestly, I probably need to pray even more.

While I was walking today, I caught a few glimpses of downtown Austin. I’ll probably share some pictures below. And as I stood there taking it all in, I caught myself thinking, “I really want to live downtown one day.” Not just visit. Live there. Wake up and do these walks every morning or every evening with the skyline right there in front of me.

But then another thought hit me. I could probably force that life right now if I really wanted to, but it would compromise other aspects of my quality of life that I currently enjoy. And that made me realize maybe I just don’t have that particular version of life yet. Not because it isn’t possible, but because maybe it’s just not time yet.

And somehow that led me into another thought entirely.

When was the last time I allowed myself to dream bigger?

Because I’ve dreamt before. I dreamt about moving here. I dreamt about career growth. Promotions. Stability. Leadership opportunities. And by God’s grace, so much of that has happened.

But beyond survival and adulthood and career progression, how much have I allowed myself to dream creatively? About poetry. About spoken word. About content creation. About storytelling. About building something bigger than what I originally imagined for myself?

I don’t know if I’ve fully done that.

I think adulthood has a way of making practicality consume you. Your bills. Your job. Your responsibilities. Your routines. Your quality of life becomes tied to consistency and structure, and somewhere in there, you slowly stop engaging with wonder. With magic. With possibility.

And I want that back.

I need to dream louder. Bigger. More intentionally.

Because if I’m being honest, every major thing I wrote down and prayed about over the last few years, God has brought to pass in one way or another. Sometimes even beyond what I imagined.

So maybe the issue now is that I need to start writing again. Dreaming again. Speaking life over things again.

People often tell me that I’m naturally suited for influencing or storytelling or content creation. And maybe they’re right. A lot of it has felt surprisingly natural to me. I’ve never really felt like I had to force a personality online. You guys genuinely get very raw versions of me.

I know how to dress. I know my angles. I know how to capture moments that feel like me. Sometimes I’ll literally just walk outside my apartment, take a few pictures, and post them. I still do a terrible job posting consistently or posting on time, but still, it’s become a real extension of who I am.

And hopefully it grows into more.

More partnerships. More storytelling. More opportunities. Maybe even a full career lane one day. Who knows.

But all of that starts with dreaming.

Maybe you need to do that too.

Maybe somewhere along the line you got so focused on surviving life that you stopped imagining what life could become. So let this be your reminder to dream again. Write things down again. Pray over them again. Believe in them again.

During the walk tonight, I also noticed a few fireflies.

At first I wasn’t even sure I saw them because they appear so briefly. One second they’re there, the next second they disappear. Blink too quickly and you miss them entirely.

And somehow that reminded me of opportunities. Relationships. Timing. Life itself.

Sometimes the biggest moments in your life arrive quietly. Briefly. Almost magically. And if you hesitate too long or second guess yourself too much, you miss them.

It reminded me of something that happened years ago in Arizona. I was on the phone with my best friend Atafi because we were both heading to the Grand Canyon. I got there earlier than him and while walking through the airport I thought I saw 50 Cent.

I called him immediately and he was like, “There’s no way 50 Cent is in Arizona.”

And for a second, I believed him.

Then something told me to check. So I Googled it and sure enough, 50 Cent had a show in Scottsdale the next day.

I was so upset because Get Rich or Die Tryin’ was one of the first albums I ever owned as a kid. Meeting him would have been crazy to me at the time.

And it made me think about how often we blink because someone else cannot see what we see.

Not because they mean harm, but because they’re not experiencing the moment from our perspective. And if you’re not careful, other people’s limitations, doubts, or inability to recognize something can make you miss what was right in front of you.

You blink and a career opportunity passes.
You blink and love passes.
You blink and purpose passes.

So stay present. Trust your instincts sometimes. See things for yourself.

Last but not least, your boy is finally recovering from being sick and thank God for that because the last week and a half has been absolutely miserable.

I’m finally feeling like myself again and I’m really excited about the response to some of the content I’ve been posting lately. Especially the cooking videos.

Ironically, I think I’ve realized I need to completely change how I edit them. The longer form style isn’t holding attention the way I want it to. I think shorter cuts and quicker pacing might work better for the audience I currently have. So we’ll experiment with that.

And maybe a YouTube channel soon too. Who knows.

Anyways, till next time, stay up.

Hi guys!
it’s been a minute.

Okay, maybe not a minute, but it’s been a little bit. I’m currently nursing the most ridiculous cold that crept up on me out of nowhere.

Literally last week, I was bragging about how this is the longest I’ve gone into a new year without getting sick… and then boom…stuffy nose, headache, congestion. Just all-around annoyance.

And honestly, I think it’s a combination of things. Austin has some ridiculous weather.

I remember when I first moved here—now almost two and a half years ago (can you believe that?)—and one thing I’ve learned is: you’ve got to stay ready so you don’t have to get ready.

Because the way Austin is set up, you can wake up freezing, deal with rain by noon, catch sunshine in the afternoon, and then somehow get hail or humidity by night. It makes no sense.

Late last week, we had rain, then it got hot on Saturday and Sunday, and I was outside. I genuinely think my body just wasn’t prepared for the constant switch-up—and now here we are.

Two days out of the gym. If you know me, you know how much I hate my routine being disrupted.

But at the same time, I was just telling a friend recently that I’ve been going so hard with fitness that I might actually need to slow down a bit and let the progress settle in. So maybe this forced pause isn’t the worst thing.

I do plan on getting back in today—arm day. Light work. We’ll see how I feel.

---

This post might feel a little all over the place. Maybe it’s the Theraflu. Maybe it’s the NyQuil. Who knows.

But something really hit me over the past couple of days.

It’s important to pray about the little things.

I’ve written before about asking the Holy Spirit to help me find things…keys, random stuff around the house—and somehow they show up. But being sick made me realize something…

I was doing everything—ginger, tea, medicine, zinc—but I didn’t pray. Not once.

And that bothered me.
Because I sat there thinking, “Why didn’t I just pause and ask God to heal me?” By His stripes, we are healed. But sometimes I go through the motions and forget the foundation.
So if you’re reading this—say a quick prayer for me and for yourself about that thing that’s on your heart. I’m trying to get back to full strength and back to my routines.

Speaking of routines…
On Friday night, I wanted a burger. Bad.
Burger, chicken sandwich, milkshake—the whole thing. I fought it. I really did. I didn’t get the milkshake on Friday… ended up getting it on Saturday.

But then I realized something.
From the start of April till the end, I hadn’t had fast food. No burger. No milkshake. Nothing.
And that meant something to me.
Not because I eat it all the time—but because I wanted it, and I didn’t give in. And by the time I did, it was already May.

That felt like growth.
I got my fix, and honestly, I’m good for another month.

---

Now… let’s talk about something that annoyed me.
Taliat’s Kitchen — count your days.
I’m saying this here because this is my safe space. I won’t take this to social media where things can go viral, but I need to say it.

They have some of the best Nigerian food in Austin. No debate.
But I’ve noticed a pattern—not just here, but in Sacramento, Oakland, now Austin—where Nigerian businesses grow, build a loyal base, and then start slipping.

Prices go up. Portions go down. Quality becomes inconsistent.

The first meal I had in Austin was ayamase, rice, and plantain from there in January 2024.
Yesterday? Same meal was pushing $22.
And the bowl was mostly kidney meat.

I hate kidney meat.
The stew was barely there, and they added an egg—which, once removed, made it even more obvious how little stew was actually in there.
I just don’t like dishonesty in business or products I am paying for.

As I get older, I’ve realized I don’t like people playing with my time, my money, or my loyalty. Because I would have checked them. And maybe I should have.

And before anyone jumps in with “Nigerian food is hard to make”….I hear it. I do. But when you’re cooking in bulk, your cost per plate goes down.

Meanwhile, other cuisines—Chinese, Indian—use similar proteins and still manage pricing better.
Something isn’t adding up.
If I’m wrong, let’s talk about it. But right now, it doesn’t make sense to me.

---

Being sick has also taken away my walks.
You guys know I love my walks. Sometimes I even drive just to find a good place to walk. But this congestion? Yeah… not fun.
Also—who is the grumpiest person you know when they’re sick?

It’s me.
100% me.

I hate it. It disrupts everything. It makes me irritable. So if I’ve been quiet, it’s not personal—I just don’t want to transfer that energy to anyone else.
And can we talk about something real quick?

If I’m sick… why are you trying to kiss me?
Are you okay?
This is Idris Elba’s fault. That whole COVID era “I’m sticking beside him” nonsense—no. Absolutely not.
If you live in a four-bedroom house, USE THE ROOMS.
Isolate. Rest. Recover.
Love me from a distance for 48 hours. You’ll be fine.

You need to rest and get ready for the summer.
Summer’s coming!!! Or here sef.
What are your plans?
I feel like I just be traveling and telling you guys after the fact, but I actually want to hear from you. Drop your plans in the comments—trips, picnics, road trips, whatever.
I’m thinking about doing a road trip myself. From Austin—where should I go? A quiet cabin trip? Or a state close to Texas? Somewhere random? Put me on.

---

Also—thank you.
Seriously.
To everyone who reads, comments, replies—I appreciate you. This blog is probably the most honest space I have. It’s where you get my real thoughts, unfiltered.
April was one of my biggest months in a long time—even without posting consistently. So thank you for rocking with me.
I’m realizing I might need to start writing these ahead of time, because life gets busy. But I also like giving you my thoughts in real time.
We’ll find a balance.

I also want to build my own website.

A proper one.

Landing page, blog, music reviews, content, everything in one place.

If you’ve got the skills—or know someone who does—reach out. I’m serious.

(And yes, if you’re the one person reading this thinking I’m talking to you… I am. And no, you’re not building it. You’ve got enough on your plate 😂)

Let me leave you with this: Everything in your life doesn’t have to look perfect to be perfect.
I’ve been chasing this idea of the “perfect life,” but I’m starting to realize—this is it.
This season. This version of me. This body, this job, these friendships, this impact.
You can want more and still appreciate where you are.

Both can exist.

I’ll see you all next week—by God’s grace, healthy, no congestion, back to normal.

And funnily enough, writing this is the best I’ve felt all week.
So thank you for that.

Before I go—go listen to Asake’s new album Money.
🎧 https://open.spotify.com/search/asake%20money
My favorites right now:

• Money Can’t Buy Happiness
• Gratitude
• Forgiveness

I’ll do a full review soon, but yeah…he did his thing.

Till next time. Stay up 🤞🏾

I heard the dial buzz like a nursery rhyme
I tried to prepare myself
clears throat
My tone, my pitch
I can’t remember why I called
For many months
I had picked my phone and tried to type
But I could never find the words
Or there were too many words
There was a lot to say
But not this way
I wanted it face to face
So i could look into your beautiful eyes
And peer into your damaged soul again

For many months I wanted you to say more
But you always found a way to say none at all
You would look into my wanting heart
And say just enough
But it was really much of nothing
Those lips would part
And that gorgeous smile revealed
They would go round and round like a ferris wheel
Soft like a spoon full of brûlée
Your lips would lock into mine
Both sets of them
Finding them time after time
But never finding truth

You used to make me sing
Low octave stepping to your beats
You played my heart like a drum
And I shifted my hips to the baseline
As you shifted my guts
You knew your way around
But I didn’t know how to keep you around
The dial tone stopped
You picked up and I heard you say
“I love you and I’ve been meaning to call”
Well that is what I thought I heard you say
So I asked you to repeat yourself
You said “never mind”
And right then
I remembered why I called
To tell you, that you’re a fuxking asshole
My Uber is on its way
I’ll be there in 20mins

2018, Adewus.
Picked up a call from someone I shouldn’t have and it inspired this poem.

Sometimes I’m amazed at the strength I have… to pick the cowardly option.

Not because I don’t know better. Not because I don’t see it.
But because I can feel myself choosing it anyway.

The option so many of us default to – the one that requires less vulnerability, less discomfort, less truth. The one where we don’t have to do the work.

I’m always a little shocked by how much effort I can put into convincing myself that:

• I wasn’t wrong
• I shouldn’t be the one to call
• I don’t need to reach out

As if silence is somehow a form of dignity.

And the dangerous part is how quickly time starts working in your favor. One day turns into one week. That week turns into distance. And suddenly, both people settle into the quiet comfort of:

“I must have been right.”

No resolution. No growth. Just distance dressed up as peace.

---

What amazes me even more is how we operate in extremes.

In the highs, we speak so boldly. We promise love, loyalty, and longevity. We say things that feel permanent. We build something that feels real.

But when things get hard—when it requires humility, accountability, or discomfort—we start looking for exits. We protect our ego instead of the bond.

We don’t always lose people because we don’t care.
Sometimes we lose them because we weren’t brave enough to fight for the connection the same way we were brave enough to start it.

We become afraid to hold cherishable things because we got dropped as fragile things… now we are fragile beings.
That line sits with me. More than when I first came up with it but everytime I think of the much I’ve lost because I was fragile or worried about breaking fragile things.

A lot of our hesitation isn’t random; it’s learned. Just ask Janine and Gregory.
It’s protective. It’s rooted in past experiences where showing up didn’t end well.

But still… that doesn’t make avoidance the answer.

Adulting requires a different kind of bravery.

Not the loud, visible kind.
The quiet kind.

The kind that:

• picks up the phone first
• admits fault without being forced
• chooses understanding over being right
• stays when it would be easier to withdraw

Bravery in the face of pain, hurt, and disappointment.

So the real question becomes:

How do you find your voice… when your instinct is to protect it?
How do you push through… when everything in you says to stay quiet?

I don’t have a perfect answer yet.

But I’m starting to believe it begins with choosing discomfort on purpose.
Choosing honesty before distance.
Choosing connection before ego.

Even when it feels like the harder option.
Especially then.

Till next time.

Stay up.

Please leave me a comment, repost, and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

© 2026 #WhatTheHeckMan

I’m currently on a walk as the idea for this post comes to me. It’s funny how, at different phases of your life, you become familiar with certain things.

I remember when I was working at Mentor House almost 10 years ago—I centered a lot of my conversations through a mental health lens. Then you move into tech, and your vocabulary changes. Your interests shift too. But most importantly for me recently has been understanding my body.

I’ve never really wanted to admit this, but this feels like a vulnerable space—and I’m grateful for the opportunity to share real experiences and hopefully inspire others to live in their truth.

For many years, I had this fear that my demise would come from a brain aneurysm. I know some people would say, “Don’t speak that over yourself,” and fair—but that was my fear. The same way some people fear they won’t get married, won’t have kids, won’t be good parents, or might fall back into poverty… that was mine.

That was until 2020, when I started feeling pain in my left side. I went to the doctor, ran tests, and was told I had diverticulitis. Essentially, it’s when small pockets form in the lining of your digestive system. If you don’t eat enough fiber, food can get trapped there, causing irritation, bloating, and pain that can travel from your lower left abdomen to your back and even downward.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve also become more aware—maybe even more anxious—about how often I see men dealing with serious health issues like prostate cancer and other illnesses. Have I been great about going to the doctor consistently? No. But I intend to do better.

Today, though, I want to talk about something else: cortisol.

It’s taken me a few weeks to be honest with myself about how I feel. And the simplest way to describe it is this—I’m stressed.

Whether it’s family issues, personal decisions, ambitions, or just feeling like my body isn’t responding the way I want it to… I feel it. A lot of that stress shows up when I wake up and look at myself. Some days, I don’t appreciate where I am physically.

What’s funny is, I went to an event last week wearing traditional Nigerian attire. When I watched the videos back, I thought, “I actually look really good.” I looked sharp. Confident. Put together.

But in the moment? I didn’t feel that way at all. I had just eaten a huge Chipotle burrito, felt bloated, and convinced myself I didn’t look great overall.

There’s a real disconnect sometimes between how I see myself and how others see me. People will describe me in ways that genuinely surprise me.

So I started paying attention to patterns.

My diet hasn’t been great the past few weeks. I never thought of myself as a stress eater, but I’ve realized I’m more of an emotional eater. Not fast food—but comfort food. Familiar meals.

I always have staples in my fridge or freezer—fada sauce, aramashi stew, spaghetti sauce. Every couple of weeks, I make big batches, store some, freeze the rest.

I can go weeks eating clean, disciplined. But let me have a rough stretch, and suddenly I’ve rearranged my diet around comfort.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with those meals—but if I’m trying to stay strict, that’s not the time for them. And because I live alone, I’m accountable only to myself. That can be a gift and a weakness.

To be fair, since the beginning of the year, I’ve been more disciplined overall. Smaller portions, more awareness around sugar—although I still enjoy a sweet treat almost every night. That’s an area I can improve.

But the real issue isn’t just food.

It’s cortisol.

I’m stressed. I have too much on my mind. I’m not sleeping well. And I’m starting to feel like it’s costing me my ability to be consistently happy.

So what’s the solution?

By the grace of God, I’ve inherited my dad’s ability to connect with people easily. I make friends all over the world without trying too hard, and it’s always genuine.

But I’m realizing that I also absorb a lot—from relationships, from interactions, from people who may not even realize what they’re carrying.

And I need to do a better job protecting myself from that.

This has become an ongoing internal conversation. Do I distance myself from certain people? Do I go home? Do I have the hard conversations I’ve been avoiding?

One thing I know for sure is this: waiting for people to reach certain levels of self-awareness on their own timeline has cost me peace. It’s left gaps in my heart and, at times, sleepless nights.

If I’m being honest, since my birthday trip in January, I don’t think I’ve woken up and felt genuinely happy. Within minutes of being awake, something creeps in—tension in my body, restlessness in my mind, or a weight on my spirit tied to something unresolved.

So how do I fix that?

I have to be honest about what I can control—and what I can’t.

I can’t save everyone. I can’t fix everything. And I definitely can’t do that while trying to keep myself afloat.

There’s a part of me that wishes I could just sit and cry sometimes. People love to say, “If you were married, things would be easier,” but that’s not real. Being married doesn’t eliminate challenges, especially when you care deeply about people across different spaces and places.

So, cortisol—we need to break up. And we need to do it fast.

Because this way of living isn’t sustainable.

I can’t only feel real joy when I’m in a different country or when my phone is on Do Not Disturb for days at a time. Sometimes people reach out asking why I’ve gone quiet. And while occasionally they’re part of the stress, most times they’re not.

I just need space to reset. To recharge. To breathe.

I’m working on getting better—not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. Yes, some of it is eating better and taking care of my body. But a lot of it is identifying what’s causing stress and learning how to remove or limit those things.

So as you think about your own life, take a moment.

What’s weighing on your heart right now?

Maybe it’s those extra 10 pounds that won’t drop. Maybe it’s your sleep. Maybe it’s the fact that joy hasn’t felt consistent in a while.

Pause. Take stock.

Ask yourself what’s heavy—and what you can do about it.

Sometimes it’s going home. Sometimes it’s telling yourself the truth. Sometimes it’s cutting people off. Sometimes it’s learning to be okay alone.

Sometimes it’s spending less. Sometimes it’s spending more. Sometimes it’s eating the meal that brings you comfort. And sometimes it’s embracing delayed gratification.

At the end of the day, I hope you’re listening to your body, your heart, and your soul.

I’m about to finish this walk. I’m trying to get back into consistency – an hour walk at least three times a week, and 30 minutes on the other days. That’s my starting point.

But more importantly, I’m learning to walk away from the things that invite cortisol into my life.

I hope you do the same.

Until next time—stay up.

What is the most stressful area of your life right now and how can you fix it?

Till next time.

Stay up.

Please leave me a comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.

#WordsOfWednesday

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