My favourite time of the year on my blog has come to be the end of the year, where in keeping up with an annual tradition I started sometime back, I review global events that happened over the year.

This year has been... sort of different. And not (entirely) in the feel good kind of way.

I dreaded making this post, as writing this would mean I would have to re-hash the global horrors of this year, most of which I forced myself to develop selective amnesia over, in order to keep my sanity.

The first rude shocker some of us received had to be the Nigerian Presidential elections... or rather, the absence of one.

Sigh.

You see, the land of my birth has been through a lot of wahala. Sometimes (like the gestapo-style of the military 90s), it would seem things were sinking irredeemably low, and then, by some miracle, it would get lifted out into what would appear a hopeful future.

More recently however, it had seemed the country was finally getting it right. In the wake of her newfound return to democracy, Nigeria of the 2000s seemed unstoppable, being courted by investors from all over the globe.

Alas, who knew that those were the last glory days for a loooooong time to come. Because the downward spiral has gone so deep, that a lot of us had to do what we never thought doable, which is seeking hope elsewhere, for the sake of our descendants, born and unborn.

Which is why the last elections signaled a last beacon of hope of some sorts. Nigeria for the first time in a longtime had a candidate of impeccable origins, background and antecedents, with wide appeal across the country, especially from diasporeans.

Even as the frenzy to the elections built up, diasporeans made plans to return home in droves, to help rebuild their land of birth which they always loved, even though far.

Alas, it was not to be, as the world watched the Electoral Commission murder democracy in broad daylight, while clearly ensuring that the electronic transmission of Presidential Election votes were foiled.

The results? A mangled outcome of contrived numbers, leading to a very unpopular candidate, whose emergence has cast Nigeria’s public image in the worst type of limelight, due to a past hitherto best read in Mario Puzo-esque novels.

All due to the selfish ambitions of a few.

While many others held their breath, and hoped for the judiciary to do the right thing, I switched off emotionally from all things Nigerian at the time immediately, for the sake of my mental health and well-being.

I muted a lot of words on Twitter (my primary source of social media information), and fed my eyes instead with happy, utopian pictures and travel reels littered all over Instagram. The times I stepped back mainstream, I focused on happenings elsewhere.

But 2023 was pretty dark everywhere else. At home in Canada, we battled inflation all year, amidst climbing interest rates. Canadians were posting videos and tik-toks, bemoaning the HARD standard of living, and most people’s once idyllic reality had suddenly metamorphosed into this drudgery.

In the midst of all that, the Ukraine-Russian war was not letting up, and we were constantly riddled with images and updates on this never-ending war, which threatened sometimes to morph into a 3rd World War, which we would all then get sucked into.

Arrrrrrggggghhhhhh.

That was the point I really began stepping back from all things external news and information, and re-creating that bubble that carried me through the craze of the pandemic in 2020.

(I mean.. delulu is the ultimate solulu, right??)

If I ever found myself on Twitter, the only trending topic I clicked on was all things Meghan Markle, the Duchess of Sussex. For my good sis was sure to be serving fashion style with looks, along with her fine husband, and we could even get sneak peaks of their adorable youngsters.

Meghan was truly my happy place in 2023, when it came to global happenings. Her ignoring yet persevering game is something to be studied. And while she may not have gotten all steps right in the past, she definitely has a good (beautiful) head on her warm shoulders. And hearing her speak is as soothing as soothing can be.

To see her and her hubs support the Nigerian team at the last Invictus games was wildddddd! And I finally got to watch the full episodes of Suits (legal dramas irk me!), affirming in my mind the fact that Meghan had ALWAYS been a whole babe on her own, regardless of who she chose to marry.

Outside of Meghan, I continued to step back some more from global things, and lean into my own life more.

I think the last straw really was October 7, when Hamas executed terrorist acts on helpless women and children, kidnapping a huge number, and subsequently violating them.

It took me down a trauma lane I did not even know I had, or repressed. The trauma of Boko Haram, the abduction of the Chibok girls and the subsequent unhindered abductions of women and school children all over the North of Nigeria as acts of terrorism, leading to kidnapping now being considered a ‘norm’ in the area. Till this day. In the name of agitating for a Jihadist State.

My first reaction to October 7 was: Why? Why women and children??

I mean, no one deserves to be assaulted or kidnapped, not even men. But why are the most vulnerable targeted?? Why not the soldiers... or Parliament? Why innocent babies and their mothers? Why do women and children always have to be the ultimate pawn in power tussles??

Because the aim as always is to strike terror. Not at agitating for a “free state”, but with the ultimate goal of domination through terror.

South Africa successfully agitated for freedom from apartheid, without kidnapping and murdering innocent white children and women in the country. Ireland did the same, without targeting the most vulnerable; women and children.

What Hamas is doing is highly reminiscent of what Boko-Haram, ISWAP and other (religious) extremist groups do, to flex power and strike terror, by kidnapping and targeting the most vulnerable, while hopping on the confusion from political-correctness to provide their much needed shield. The guise is to “agitate” for whatever cause is fingered at the time. The ultimate aim is to strike terror.

But the “whataboutism”, it exhausted me.

To see us “intellectuals” put on our Sandra Bullock-esque blindfold from Birdbox, jump right through this, and go into all sorts of pontification, without stopping to say “hey... there is no place for kidnapping and violating babies, children, women, old people, or using hospitals and schools as human shields, regardless of the cause” with one voice, I think this is what broke me finally.

So I stepped back from social media almost completely, and have instead leaned in fully. I leaned into my volunteering, I leaned into my job.

But most important of all, in 2023, I leaned into Motherhood with every fibre of my soul.

Ahhhh.

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In many ways, 2023 has been one of my best years, so far. This was quite surprising, seeing that the year started on a pretty distressing note, and I resolved to just take one day at a time.

The one thing that kept me going for the longest time, till the year straightened out, was my little one.

I remember speaking with a friend and saying that if one was not sure they wanted kids, then there was no need having kids, as you would resent it, and could even feel like your life had been snatched from you.

But if having children was something on your front-burner, then by all means, have kids, sleepless nights and all.

The latter is the case for me. I was sooooooo ready to be a Mom, that I honestly cannot remember the stress that came with the past couple of years of my life changing. I count it all joy, and revel everyday in capturing EVERY moment.

I acknowledge it is no walk in the park. I think for me, I embraced it wholly, because I was emotionally (and financially?) prepared to delve into the beautiful beautiful rabbit-hole that motherhood is.

Being a full-time career Mom has its specific challenges, but loving my career the way I do, I’ve seen the added responsibility of motherhood as a blessing, rather than a burden.

To be able to love another unconditionally, unrestrained, irrevocably... never wondering “is it too much”, “will they love me back”, “will they ghost me”?

I mean, our kids will all grow up to make their choices (and we pray it is the right one they make). But in this early moments, knowing that another human depends on you wholly for survival, and that you have to pour all of you into them to enable them thrive not just for today, but for the future is a responsibility that only unconditional love can enable one bear it with joy.

There is a lot in motherhood (and even pregnancy!) that is neverrrrrr talked about, and oh boy! I had to learn many things on the go, still learning a lot on the go.

But the biggest takeaway is how motherhood has helped me to learn how not to hold on to things (or even people) beyond what I absolutely must.

Because I have to be at my best mental and other capacity, in order to nourish my youngling. This in turn would entail that anything that messed with my ability to bring my A+ game for my child had to be let go, with a kiss or a kick.

But the hardest thing I’ve had to decide to let go of this year had to be writing on my blog; this blog.

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This year made it ten years since I created my blog, and reading through my posts over the years helps me see the growth I’ve experienced in my personal, social and even professional life.

This blog helped me in fashioning my personal brand, and taught me the true meaning of consistency. Having to show up even when I did not feel like, and keep putting post after post up. Writing on the blog made me far more knowledgeable on things, as I’d often have to do research on a number of topics, before writing.

I remember specifically, when I struggled with the aftermath of feeling ghosted, even when I did not know the term, ‘ghosting’. It was this blog that helped me deal with it, using humour, as always.

Sadly, things change. In order to be able to grow more into motherhood and other things, I had to come to terms with the fact that some things had to give. And as you grow in life, the things you say matter the more.

Ten years ago, I could get away with being flippant and naughty in my humour-filled writing. But this is not ten years ago, and I always have to ask myself more and more before putting anything out: is it worth it??

So I declared my retirement from blogging earlier this year, and slowly began withdrawing from writing. At the time, it seemed exciting, that I was moving on from the life of constant blogging I had known over the past ten years. But as the year drew to a close, the goodbye has seemed much harder

In my true addicted-to-writing fashion, I know that I will peep out from ‘retirement’ every once in a while, to quip about one thing or the other.

I hope to use this “retirement” to continue writing on other platforms, including (finally) publishing the books that have swirled in my head for the longest time, the first of which I’ve not been able to get beyond page 52, for the longest time.

So this is not exactly goodbye, as you are bound to see me around, from time to time. This I am sure of.

If you ever miss me, or get bored, go through the huge array of past posts on the blog, and you will find something to keep you engaged.

For those who have stuck with my writing these past ten years, and those who joined sometime along the way, this is to say a huge THANK YOU. For showing up always, for crying with me when I cried, and laughing with me when I laughed. Thank you for all the comments, and the feedback, which have all been very supportive.

Again, this is not really goodbye. Rather, in Arnold Schwarzenegger's voice: Hasta la vista, baby.

Love and Peace always,

Meg. 

Unlike last year, I started this year with some personal goals. Call them “New Year Resolutions”, if you like.

Top of my goals (or resolutions) was to work on my weight, and shed off quite some pounds. The weight had ballooned somewhat, by the combination of the staying indoors throughout the pandemic, pushing out a human from my body, keeping that tiny human alive, yet (attempting) to balance it all with a thriving career, and continue my volunteering activities.

Fadalawd!

So I started out this year, deciding to slow-down in some things, but increase in some other things, such as fitness, so as to attain my goal weight.

I mean, this is not the first time I resolved to lose weight, and actually succeeded. So I knew it was not impossible. I know what’s worked for my body (and my poor knees) in the past, and all I had to do was to stick with it to lose weight again.

Right??

(Stay with me… I’m going somewhere with this)

I’m not sure if it’s the deluge of FitFam influencers I see on social media, but I was convinced to try something else. So instead of my usual combo of fast walking +aerobics + swimming + abs workouts, I decided to focus more on using weights, and doing thousands of squats. All those influencers showed before and after pictures with just a month (or even less) in between of body changes, resulting from similar weight-loss regimen.

And true to their promise, by March of this year, I actually began seeing changes. Except… the changes I began seeing was not what I wanted to see.

I began bulking out! My African woman “assets” increased quite exponentially (too much of everything is not good, you know), and when I climbed the scale, I had easily added 20 pounds to what I weighed as at January.

*screams in horror! 🙀

As if that was not enough, my knees had gone worse from all that squatting. And apparently, the banana shakes that helped the influencers increase their metabolism seemed like they slowed mine down instead, as my weight ballooned!

*wails in e shock me*

So I stopped everything; the crazy workouts, the supersonic meal requirements. I stopped going to the gym altogether, and just took time to wallow in my unwitting self-sabotage.

By June, I decided to restart my fitness wagon, and clamber into it. This time, I went back to the simple, yet effective things I’d always known that worked for me.

Walking.

Ellipticals.

Swimming.

Abs exercises that were gentle on my knees.

Drinking lots of water.

Minding my business.

I stayed low impact, so as not to hurt my knees more, and what I could not make up for in speed, I paid for it in time/length.

And gradually, I began to see results. This time, the results I hoped for. My consistency has been paying off, and I was able to rock my beautiful summer dresses, as against the fear that I’d be a full-fledged card-carrying member of the akpa-akpu fraternity by summer. 😃

I’m back to my consistent fitness lifestyle, and it’s giving me everything I wanted: optimal mental health, improved knees, the curves are curving, and the pounds are melting.

So… what does this have to do with you?? (Calm down!)

My Pastor shared a sermon last week Sunday that made me reflect on my fitness waka this year, and made me smile.

[He is this warm, grandfatherly figure, who in the course of his sermons inundates us with these unending grand-pa corny jokes that are a perfect combination of cringe and adorable, but altogether wholesome] 😊

He shared on how at the start of his career, he had attempted to preach like others he saw, and failed wholly as a preacher. Until he decided to be himself, and that is what has worked for him.

“You are like Nobody else”, he said. And this has stayed swimming in my subconscious since then, the timely reminder I did not realise I needed.

You see, we all are uniquely created, every fibre in our being uniquely crafted. As he explained, what may work for you, may not suit someone else, and vice-versa.

Case in point is my fitness struggles earlier this year, because rather than do what I’ve always known that works for me, I decided to attempt what worked for others, who had totally different fitness goals (and body make-up) than I did.

And this explains why we struggle a lot in life. We see others doing something, being a particular way, and we try to imitate it, or hold ourselves to their standard. Social Media too has not made it easier, with the voices being so loud, drowning out our own inner voice.

But each of us is like nobody else. We make look alike. We may have similar experiences. But individually, we are wholly unique. Thus what works for A, may not work for B, and vice-versa.

So the next time you feel pressed to adjust your life choices because of what is working for someone else – or like me, jump into weightlifting, instead of sticking to your faithful cardio regimen – pause that thought, and consider seriously if it works for you.

If you go ahead and jump in, only to realize this does not work for you, do not hesitate to jump out immediately and walk your own path, which works best for you.

Never forget: you are like Nobody else. 💓

Paz,

My Sunday started out quite upside down. In fact, my Saturday simply rolled into the Sunday, as I barely got any sleep at all into the morning. Tossing and turning all night.

It was probably triggered by the recent interest rate hike (again) by the BoC. Yes, along with some million of other Canadians, I am feeling the pinch of the variable rate dream morph into a nightmare.

By daybreak, my head and heart was heavy. I was as cranky as I was downcast.

My mind kept running kiti-kiti kata-kata, thinking of ALL the things that were wrong in my life.

It was at the pinnacle of hopelessness, that I had to stop myself in my tracks, and remind myself of my 3ts.

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As someone who had witnessed the dark side of depression, I made an oath to myself to live in self-awareness, and not let my mind run away with me.

So that when vicissitudes of life swell, and it is as though everything is crashing in on my head, I have to pull myself to a stop and remember the three Ts:

1. Talk it out

2. This too shall pass

3. (and most important of all) There is Always Hope.

Especially the third one.

I have learnt to catch myself on those horrible, horrible days, and firmly reassure myself that these feelings of uncertainty, disappointment, confusion or whatever shall pass. This hour, this day shall pass. And the next hour or day will be full of promise and laughter.

And so, armed with my reminder of the 3Ts, I launched into Sunday.

Despite everything in my body yelling to hide under my covers and fall into a deep hole, I put on my Sunday best, dressed to smithereens in the exact antonym of how I was feeling, and went to talk it out, in faith, in church and to the God I believe in.

I talked it out with my significant other also, who helped me see things for how they really were.

And as I talked it out, I eased into the 2nd T: the overwhelmingness of it all slowly passing.

Not that all the cares in the world have been sorted, but that that burden that makes it all look insurmountable is lifted, so that I can breathe and rationally make plans on how to practically deal with issues before me.

It helped me to put things in perspective, that in many way, I was living the life I always dreamt of, and whatever hiccups there were along the way were only temporary.

Which led me to the 3rd T. Despite how I had felt that morning, by midday, I was reminded that there IS always hope. By the end of the day, that Sunday ended up being one of my BEST days in long while; filled with a lot of laughter, and promise of better times to come.

As I lay down in bed and reflected on the very interesting day I had, how low it had started, and how beautiful it ended, my mind went to Chelsie Krat, and Robin Williams.

I wondered if they had felt so overwhelmed with the stress of life, perhaps not having the one person to be vulnerable with, feeling that the overwhelming nature or force of the negative emotions would last forever, and and caving in to the lie that hopelessness presents.

My heart ached as I thought of these, and I wished I could have hugged them in that moment, to let them know that too will pass.

So this is me, sharing the message, that whatever mountains seems insurmountable at this time, shall pass.

And THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE. It is that hope we cling to, that should be our why for sleeping and waking up.

You will smile again. And again. And again.

The heaviness will lift, and you'll see, that life is beautiful.

Things will work out, and you'll be glad you didn't cave in.

There is Always Hope. 💓

Paz,

Meg.

P.s: Happy Father’s Day B... and to all the amazing Dads, who show up, stay put, and keep us going. ❤️.