Dear Aloaye,
There is so much I want to say to you, so much, too much. Each version of this letter has begun with this phrase. Each time I have written that string of words down, I have written with the belief that I was addressing this letter to a significantly younger version of myself. This year, I am writing to all the versions of myself out there. I am writing to the current version of myself too. At some point in the future, I would like to connect the dots backwards and take a few lessons from this moment. This year has been crucial in several ways. Learning never stops.
Since the turn of the year, there have been a lot of changes in my life. I am in an infinitely better space mentally now than I was when I wrote last year’s letter. I have changed jobs and apartments. This letter is a good luck charm, something good always trails its publication. Hopefully, this never changes. However, some of the changes came at great cost. Growth is painful. There were so many fires to put out. At some point in the first quarter, I was house hunting and job hunting and I cannot for the life of me wrap words around that intensely difficult experience especially when I consider the fact that I had to combine these two tasks with the chore that is living in Lagos.
As I write these words, I realize my letters to you do not have a fixed publication date. They are the writer’s version of a Nollywood movie which tells you to “…watch out for part two”. There’s a promise of a sequel but you never quite know when it will arrive. This year’s edition is partly sponsored by the malaria parasite. As I write these words, my bloodstream has more medication than blood cells. It’s funny how a sickness which has left me barely able to move has also given me the clarity to write.
Here we go…
Post tenebras lux. After darkness comes the light.
If I told you the truth and held nothing back, I would tell you that this year is easily the most difficult I have experienced. In the first quarter, I was in the dark, starved of light. For the greater chunk of the first half of the year, I was scared. Scared of failing, scared that a risk I had taken wouldn’t pay off, scared ’cause I had loved ones in the hospital and I was scared they wouldn’t walk out of the hospital door on their own feet.
If you hold any fear, I think that holds you a prisoner on a step. And I am not a prisoner. I’m free to come and move as I wish mentally.
This Lewis Hamilton quote has been my greatest anchor this year. It’s funny how much clarity you can get from a guy who drives cars at blinding speed for a living. But I digress.
I have learned to do things regardless of the fear tied to the apron strings of my life. The fear will probably never go away but it’s not going to prevent me from doing the things I have to do. I have a lot of anxiety with the expectations and assumptions I have to live with and I can’t count the number of times I have had to mutter this quote before making difficult decisions. It’s funny how the feeling of being scared is something we associate with children. I think fear is a common thread that runs through life.
Aloaye, it is okay to be scared but that fear shouldn’t stop you. In the first quarter of the year, I realized I derive a lot of value and worth from the work I do. I had run into a brick wall and the quality of my life and mental health had taken a hit because of this. Now, that I think about it, I had arrived at this brick wall at least a year before I reached the decision to quit. Quitting my job without a backup option was a risk and the daredevil leap of faith I needed to take. I am grateful that I can take a look back at that phase of my life with relief but it was one hell of a scary moment. Ground zero gives you clarity and the freedom to breathe easy.
The older I get, the more I admire the concept of democracy not just as a system of governance but as a lifestyle pattern. I love having choices, options, multiple alternatives. But these things are rarely spontaneously occurring. Except you have infinite amounts of privilege.
Privilege is a curious creature. Often times, we see privilege as a huge advantage birthed by wealth and power. Sometimes, privilege is the little things which have compounded over time to give you an edge, one which we view as normal because these advantages have evolved into the natural hues in the tapestry of your life. I cannot deny the fact that I am able to take certain risks because I have certain advantages. Friends, family, an education…We often fail to catch the privileged degrees of separation between our lives and the realities of others. In March, I went kayaking. I struggled with paddling and finding a proper rhythm. At no point during this two-hour segue from my daily routine was the trajectory of my life hinged on my ability to navigate from the jetty to the Ikoyi Link Bridge and back. For thousands of Lagosians who rely on the ocean for sustenance, their reality is different. The other day as I made my way between the two ends of the Third Mainland Bridge, I saw a child paddling a canoe alongside an adult. His life and education largely depend on fishes of marketable size being caught by his family’s net. Life is just weird.
If you are anything like me, which I like to think you are, you probably spend a quarter of an hour everyday flipping burger-shaped existential questions on the grill of your mind. When does it end? What’s the point? The truth is I do not know if there is a point. Maybe the point is that there is no point. I also have no idea when or if it ends. At this point, my life is an endless string of dominoes with a different task written on each one. There’s always something to chase down, achieve, tick off. These days, my mind is an infinite maze with to-do-lists scribbled on its walls. And let’s not get started on the expectations.
Nothing prepared me for the expectations that come with adulting, the pressure, the constant placement on pedestals. I will probably never be used to the assumptions and the expectations that often follow. People reach these assumptions and expect you to show up and fulfil them without fuss. They often do not realise that everything comes at a cost; time, money, energy. Sometimes, I catch myself in the middle of some task and go “Omo, I’m just out here working and paying bills. I’m a lastborn for goodness’ sake.” Then the moment passes and I keep it moving.
These days, I am quite averse to the fatigue that comes with showing up but there is little that can be done about that. In a way, my fatigue is partly self-inflicted. Half the time, I can’t bring myself to say no. I can say it but I don’t. If you ask me for a favour, the chances that I will oblige are pretty high cause I often consider the complicated mechanics of asking people for favours. You have to admit your incapacity to yourself first and then communicate to the person you believe is better positioned to help you.
As I write these words, I realise I am now closer to thirty than I am to twenty-five and I have to say a lot more “Nos” than I do currently. Not out of regret or some age-enforced malice. No, I’m not becoming a selfish person. Why do we call people who choose themselves selfish? As much as I derive a lot of satisfaction from being there for people, I am willing to live with the guilt that comes with saying “No” because I realise that it is for the greater good and I cannot operate from a position of weakness. I have to show up for myself first in order to show up for others and I realise I have often done the latter more than the former.
Aloaye, contrary to your best intentions, you are not going to be able to show up for everyone. You are going to fall short, disappoint some, be accused of forgetting others. You are going to have to deal with the debris of guilt. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You did your absolute best. If you could do better, you would have but you didn’t. Forgiving yourself is often as difficult as living with the guilt of whatever you have to pardon yourself for.
One of my favourite movie quotes is from the Great Gatsby. “My life has got to be like this. It’s got to keep going up.” My life has to keep going up. It has to be optimized for more not less. I have to have a smorgasbord of options. There are difficult decisions to make in the short to medium term. But we are in the endgame and I cannot afford to not do difficult things and take myself seriously. I hope to put in the work and make the words of 18th century philosopher Zinoleesky “Extraordinary things I’m doing” the byline for my life.
I don’t know if it gets easier but I know that it is worth it. There will be moments of darkness but there will also be moments of blinding brightness. This year, as always, I have learned to live in the moment. I still struggle with seamlessly transitioning between phases and resisting the urge to look over my shoulder but bruh, this life thing isn’t half bad and I’m grateful for a lot of things. I am grateful for my growing trust in God. Learning the ropes of trusting God and believing in his constant and presence in my corner is easily the most difficult thing I have done this year.
I am also grateful for the gift of family and friends. I have no doubt that I am loved by more people than I have fingers. I am not alone. I haven’t totally sucked at this life thing and I owe several people a debt of gratitude for being in my corner.
If there’s one thing I could travel back in time to tell you, it would be these four words: Don’t forget to live. You are not a prisoner on a step. Your life is not a box-ticking event for routine events. Love God, love family, love people but also do things for yourself without feeling guilty. Watch the Formula 1 live. Wear a kilt in Scotland. Visit the Taj Mahal. Walk on the Great Wall of China. See the Mona Lisa. Visit the Sagrada Familia. Just live man, this life thing passes quickly.
This is the first bit of proper writing I have done in over a year and I’m struggling with the best way to end it so I’ll close with my favourite quote from the Shawshank Redemption. Get busy living or get busy dying.
Be safe out there.
You.
