The last time i had the courage to write, i said, “I thought I was home.” I remember feeling so much before writing that letter that i hoped unburdening myself in the way that i did was going to bring me the much needed break i needed at the time, but apparently, i only fell deeper into the abyss of my chaos, and that resulted in me not writing you at all since then. I had come here however, staring at my screen, and blinking with the cursor as well, almost like the cursor was mimicking the way my thoughts came to me at the time — here, then not here, so each time i tried to write, i ended up with sentences that felt like they had a dagger to my heart, and paragraphs i wasn’t sure held truth. I promise, i tried to write you, but i had to think of me first.
I want to elaborately narrate the situations as they have unfolded in the last parts of the first quarter of 2026, but i fear that i may never fully explain what they were. However, i will do a run down. Where this letter would end, i don’t know, if it would come with some form of closure like my other letters do, i doubt it. However, i can say, without an iota of doubt, that my heart is full, full with stories i wish to share — and this is me not seeking some form of answer to present you with, and just telling you, vulnerably, that this is the problem. Because maybe sometimes, it is okay to not have answers. In these last three months of the first half of the year, i have lost and won, maybe not in equal measure, but they are on both sides of the scale regardless. In work, with God, in love, and with friendships. Some of what i will say in this letter will come as a shock to many; however, writing this demands that i be brutally honest, so judge me or not, it’s my experience, and i will tell it how i deem fit.
What i would say caused this downward spiral was losing my job — i had worked as the programmes lead at Nahous, Lagos, between November 2025 and March 2026. This singular incident sent me tumbling into what became the darkest three months of my life yet. From March to June, 2026, my mind became a constant battlefield each day. I wasn’t getting booked as a photographer, and even though i had the biggest deal of my budding film career yet, getting commissioned to make a film documentary on street culture for Coca-Cola’s 75th Anniversary in Nigeria, it did not feel like much. To add to it, i would now lose the one person i hoped would be with me through it all. So, my dear friends, for the first time in a long time, i made it a daily duty to ask myself what exactly was my offense, to be dealt the cards i was dealt. And for a brief, scary second, i might have considered ending things. I remember the evening in June, the thought crept on me, it was not funny at all, nothing i did could shake the thought, and after dropping my shame, i texted two of my friends and said: “please pray for me, i don’t know what is going on in my mind, but please pray for me.”
These and a lot more happened between March and June. I couldn’t afford to feed myself, but i thank God for provision, in the people He placed around me, and my mom, who constantly would call and remind me that thinking would not solve anything, and that it was just a season i would come out of soon. One thing i kept returning to was a message that was preached on the first day of a conference held at my local assembly, CCI Ikeja — i could never forget the fire charge by Pastor Poju. I should probably leave a link to it in this letter. He taught on faith, and exemplified what it meant to find success in this world. I paraphrase, but he said there would always be night and day seasons in a person’s life, and neither are an indicator that God is absent in one and present in the other. He said, just like everything else, there would be quiet and rocky seasons, and also seasons of blessing and abundance, knowing what is required of you per time is what sets you apart. What you do in the down time is what shows the true content of your spirit. That really stayed with me, and i kept listening to that message to edify myself on days where i couldn’t find the strength. Here is the link to the message and I really hope it helps someone out there.
I could go on and on about how everything felt like my world was caving in, but through friends, i am reminded of God’s love. In all this, i was dealing with debts, my rent was almost due, i was owing on some financial commitments, and it really hurt that i couldn’t show up for my family in how i usually would. My camera had packed up, and i even had to spend all the money i had saved for rent to fix someone’s camera that had gotten faulty after i rented it for a gig. I think what really crashed it all was leaving a budding relationship, i guess everything had become rather overwhelming, and i would not blame her in hindsight. I mean, things were crazy as it was. Will i ever speak about it on here? Maybe, maybe not, lmao, because a part of me will not be able to bring myself to write about me and this particular love. But i will soon. Maybe when the story is “I found someone who stayed,” i’m sure that will be quite the read, lol.
Something that was particularly amusing was, each time i would show up, i would do so glowing, skin clear, smile wide, outfit sharp, so it was hard to reconcile that i was having a hard time. I think back on it now, and i agree with Pastor Poju when he said we often miss God's preservation because we are only focused on His provision
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Anyways, at the time of writing this letter, i want to say, out of all of this, God showed up. My rent is paid, i am currently looking forward to turning 26 in a few days, i have a better job with almost double my last pay, i even got a new camera, something that really felt like a far fetched dream and i now have more creative work than i was prepared for, and brand collabs and commissions lined up in my mail, such that i don’t have the energy to even attend to all of them. This is a soft entry back into my literary self, and i hope the words flow easily now, and i write you all more. I hope you have been doing okay, and if you aren’t, i hope you find your people, and i hope you have small miracles that remind you of whose you are. What i will say is: the miracle of preservation is still a miracle. So yes, you want to be provided for, but maybe, just maybe, the fact that you can find a meal, a day, or still have something to look forward to, is a miracle. I will leave a tweet i made from my first days in Lagos here.
I really appreciate the depth of vulnerability that every piece you write carries. It really is a great strength to write about the night seasons of one’s life without editing certain parts so you are more digestible or seen as ‘put together’.
I’m glad you are better and things are going even way better for you now. I pray that the Lord strengthens you continually and may He perfect all that concerns you. I pray for might to show up, and be and do all that is required of you. I pray that for all you have lost, the Lord restores in multiple folds. And may things that cause you to smile never elude you.
This is such a vulnerable expression and it meant so much to me. Authors like Dostoevsky are praised because of their ability to empathetically capture emotions and preserve them in the black and white.
What I see is that same truth, care, and empathy made manifest in your work. God bless you.
I see that you have also been blessed by God in the areas of creative opportunities. I am a writer and filmmaker. If you are open to bringing or putting me on, I’d sincerely appreciate any opportunity offered.
Again, thank you for this.