You meet him at a time when you are not really looking for anything serious.

You just want something easy. Something light. Something that does not demand too much from you. And he comes into your life quietly, like someone who is not trying to impress you, not trying to overwhelm you. He just stays.

He listens to you in a way you are not used to. He pays attention to the things you say, even the small, careless things you don’t think matter. He remembers them. He brings them up later. He makes you feel seen in a way that is almost uncomfortable.

You don’t know what to do with that kind of attention, so you take it lightly.

You talk to him when it is convenient. You ignore him when it is not. Sometimes you reply late. Sometimes you don’t reply at all. Sometimes you disappear and come back like nothing happened.

He never complains.

He just welcomes you back like you never left.

There are days you forget him completely. Days where your life is full, where everything is working, where you don’t feel like you need him. And then there are days when everything is falling apart, and suddenly, he is the only person you want to talk to.

And he is always there.

He never says, “You only come to me when you need something.”

He never says, “You forgot about me.”

He never says, “I deserve better.” He just listens, he just stays, he just loves you.

Sometimes you choose other people over him.

Sometimes you choose distractions over him.

Sometimes you choose everything else before you choose him, and still, he stays.

He forgives things you don’t even apologize for. He shows up in ways you don’t even notice. He protects you from things you never see. He gives you chances you didn’t earn.

And the truth is, if you are being honest with yourself, you don’t treat him the way he deserves.

You don’t love him the way he loves you, you don’t show up the way he shows up for you.

But he never matches your inconsistency.

He never withdraws his love because you withdrew yours, he never becomes distant because you did, he just keeps loving you.

He knows you don’t deserve it, he knows you will fail him, he knows you will forget him, he knows you will not love him the way he loves you.

He knows and he still chooses you.

He loved you so much that one day, he died for you.

And the painful part is, he did it knowing that some days, you would still wake up and not choose him.

His name is Jesus.

And that is the kind of love you don’t deserve.

Sometimes, beautiful things come to an end…

I think one of the hardest things I have had to learn is that sometimes, even beautiful things come to an end.

And I don’t mean the obvious endings. I don’t mean the ones filled with fights, betrayal, anger, or clear reasons to walk away. Those ones hurt, but at least they make sense. At least you can point at something and say, “This is why it ended.

I am talking about the endings that don’t come with a clear reason. The endings that happen quietly. The endings where nothing terrible happened, but something still changed. The endings where you are not walking away because you stopped caring, but because you realize that caring is no longer enough.

I used to think that for something to end, something bad had to happen. Someone had to mess up. Someone had to be the villain. Someone had to be blamed. But I am starting to learn that life is not always that simple. Sometimes things end not because they were bad, but because they are no longer right for you. And that is a very difficult thing to accept.

Because when something was beautiful, you don’t want to let it go. You hold on to the memories. You hold on to the way it used to feel. You hold on to the version of yourself that existed in that space. And you start to ask yourself so many questions. Maybe if I tried harder. Maybe if I was more patient. Maybe if I ignored certain things. Maybe if I stayed a little longer. Maybe it could still be what it used to be.

But the truth I am slowly learning is that not everything is meant to stay forever. Some people come into your life and change you, teach you, love you, help you grow, and then their chapter ends. Some jobs, some friendships, some relationships, some versions of yourself, they are beautiful, but they are not permanent.

And I think what hurts the most is not just losing the thing itself, but losing the future you imagined with it. The plans. The expectations. The comfort of thinking it would always be there. You are not just mourning what you had, you are mourning what you thought you would have.

I am still learning how to let go of things without turning them into bad things in my head. I am still learning that something can be good and still end. I am still learning that endings are not always failures. Sometimes they are just life moving you from one chapter to another.

And maybe that is what growing up really is. Learning that you can be grateful for something and still let it go. Learning that you can love something and still walk away from it. Learning that you can accept an ending without turning it into a war.

Sometimes, even beautiful things come to an end.

And maybe the beauty was never in how long it lasted, but in the fact that it happened at all.

What are some of the beautiful things you had to let go?

A month ago, Raye, my one-time virtual assistant coach and a current corp member, took to social media to pour out her frustration with the Nigerian government regarding the current state of the economy- basically how hard it is to survive in Nigeria with how prices of things go up without warning. She was tired, broken, and just needed to vent. But instead of support, she was dragged and bashed by the NYSC committee and even some government officials. All for saying the plain truth.

If our nation can’t accept the truth, I doubt they’ll be room for growth. Growth begins with realization and accountability.

Yesterday, I had my own fair share.

I jejely walked into the mall to get the same things I got just few weeks back, same items, same brands. I wasn’t expecting magic, but I definitely wasn’t expecting what I saw, the prices had tripled.

My legs were moving, but my heart sank. I stood there, staring at the price tag. I thought about how hard it is to earn, how fast money disappears, and how exhausting it is to constantly adjust to a system that keeps shifting without warning. It’s crazy!

I had no choice than to get those things, I needed them, I walked out of that store, and wept internally, Yes, Internally, inside my heart.

Not because I couldn’t afford the items, but because why should surviving be this hard?

So it got to my turn to go through adulthood and everything just switched up on me (us?)

There’s this silent pain young Nigerians carry. We’re navigating adulthood with little or no support, building careers in broken systems, choosing between feeding and saving, and pretending we’re okay on social media so no one sees us cracking.

On April 16th, I cracked. It wasn’t my first time experiencing inflation but that particular incident cut me off guard. What do you mean? The things I got like three weeks back had tripled in price?

And while I don’t have a deep motivational quote for this, I’ll say this, if you’re trying to hold it all together, I see you. If you’re tired, I feel you. And if you ever cried in the middle of doing something ordinary, like buying groceries, just know, you’re not alone. We’re in a messed up system and we just hope that things get better.

Let’s go back to Raye. I, Judith, personally know how exhausting it is, fighting for people who do not deserve it, I’ve had my fair share before. While Raye was venting, she was also speaking on behalf of Nigerians, let’s not even lie, it’s affecting us all.

Raye is a young woman who has been building herself. I met her on TikTok when I had just graduated from university and wanted to venture into virtual assistance. I had recently completed my ALX Virtual Assistant course and was ready to kick-start my journey. While scrolling through TikTok looking for more tips, I bumped into Raye. She talked about her upcoming virtual assistant course cohort.

I messaged her about it because she’s a young lady who had fully ventured into the field, working for both national and international clients, and I admired her a lot. That was how I ended up joining her last cohort for the year, in 2024.

Seeing her trending on social media for a national matter made me realize just how easily we, as young people striving to build honest lives, can be attacked for simply speaking the truth. My greatest disappointment came when I saw fellow Nigerians under her comment section bashing her, saying that she has a good life and still had the audacity to complain about the government. I was pissed and at the same time I knew it was just plain ignorance. How can basic things that we’re supposed to be exposed to be seen as luxury ? They said she had a lovely apartment, they said she wore nice clothes , they said she didn’t look like someone that was suffering… Those statements really caught me off guard, literally. Are people suffering supposed to be seen in rags, looking skinny, retarded, badly dressed before we know that they’re affected ? In conclusion, Nigerians are the cause of their problems 90% of the time! yes I did the stats. The remaining 10% is the government.

Let’s stop acting like survival is normal and suffering is strength.
Let’s start demanding more, from our leaders, from each other, and from ourselves.

Because if we don’t, this cycle continues. And I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of surviving when we were meant to thrive.

As a Nigerian writer on Medium, I’ve found so much value in sharing my stories, insights, and experiences with readers from around the world. But recently, I’ve realized that something is missing: a connection with other Nigerian writers who share similar backgrounds, perspectives, and ambitions.

In Nigeria, storytelling is woven into the fabric of our culture. From childhood, we’re exposed to oral traditions, folktales, and proverbs passed down through generations. For many of us, writing feels like a natural extension of that heritage. But while there’s a strong community of Nigerian writers outside of Medium, I’ve noticed that finding each other on this platform isn’t always easy, but I'm determined to find.

By connecting with other Nigerian writers here, I hope we can create a support network where we share our journeys, challenges, and inspirations. Whether it’s discussing our unique perspectives or sharing stories on how our cultural experiences shape our work, Our Nigerian politics and many more. I believe that connecting with each other can make us stronger as writers and creatives.

If You’re a Nigerian Writer on Medium…

I’d love to connect. Let’s share our stories, provide feedback, and grow together. Please, leave a comment or follow me so we can start building a network of Nigerian writers here on Medium. Together, we can create a vibrant space that highlights the richness of Nigerian voices and narratives.

I’m seeking to connect with more Nigerian Writers here on medium was originally published in Mr. Plan ₿ Publication on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Welcome to My Life Series, where I share moments and experiences that are helping me grow and reconnect with myself. Today’s episode is on my journey as a volunteer art assistant.

About a week ago, I woke up thinking about how badly introverted I’ve gotten. I work remotely sometimes, when the jobs come in, and other days, I take courses at home. At the end of the day, I’d find myself thinking if I had breakfast, lunch or dinner to eat that day. My major problem is that when I get buried into work, I find it so hard to stop or even think about any other thing. Yes! I think the word Workaholic was specially coined for me. I could count how many times I stepped out of my room and sometimes, I never do. It was that bad. With this being my reality, I was so unsatisfied, and I decided to make a change. So, I decided to volunteer as as an art assistant at an international primary school. It’s such a joy seeing kids express themselves in an artistic way, building confidence through— The power of Art. I’ve been loving the experience, and it has helped me to reconnect with my past self, my past love for Arts.

Working with kids is really amazing, and it’s healing my inner child in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I see kids being confident in ways I was never, full of so much self-esteem and just letting creativity lead. I let them make mistakes as well and let them see that there’s beauty in imperfection. I also let them know that art is more than drawing and painting; art is discovery, it’s self-discovery, it’s going into deeper beauty; it’s creating just like God. It’s also a beautiful reminder that imagination can be brought to life.

This experience has helped me break the chains of introvertedness a bit (if there’s a word like this). I talk more now, and I laugh carefreely. I yapp a lot, and most importantly, I’m now out of the house and doing creative things that my hands onceitched for.

One moment that stood out for me was working with the art teacher to create a collage. At first, the process didn’t make sense. It was a lot of cutting and gluing, until it finally made sense. Such is life. Most times we have to keep moving and keep consistently doing that one thing and watch it blossom into something amazing. It’ll definitely make sense at the end. Indeed, there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

By the end of this volunteering journey, I hope to rekindle my love for art, embrace it with fresh passion, become more open and social, and welcome life’s beautiful adventures with excitement and anticipation.

My Life Series: I’m Volunteering as an Art Assistant was originally published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Graduating from university was supposed to feel like reaching the top of a mountain, but in reality, it felt more like getting lost in a dense forest. As a recent graduate, I found myself staring at my degree, asking, “Now what?” I was completely clueless, to an extent, I still am. It’s even harder if you’re a multi-talented person and you studied a versatile course. The difference is that I may be navigating it well now. Before now, I was unsure of my next steps, overwhelmed by advice from all directions, and quietly anxious about where I was headed.

If you’re in the same boat , navigating this “clueless graduate” phase , I get it. I’m in that exact stage right now, figuring things out one step at a time. Here’s what I’ve learned so far, and maybe it’ll help you feel a little less alone.

If you’re not a medium member, click on this link to read full article for free

Embrace the Uncertainty

At first, I thought there was something wrong with me for not having a concrete plan. Seeing friends land jobs or start businesses( This business part was really crazy, almost everyone I graduated University with started one business or the other) I’ve realized that it’s okay not to have it all figured out. Sometimes, the best paths aren’t the ones we planned, and embracing that uncertainty can actually lead us to search for new, unexpected opportunities.

I vividly remembered the night I cried out to God, I felt peace afterwards, I told him I was giving it all to him. Most times, we make the mistake of carrying it all alone or trusting in friends and families to help us navigate.

Meanwhile, the one who sees and understands, knows better, but he just wants you to come to him first. The amount of peace I felt that night cannot be quantified.

Instead of pressuring myself to find the “perfect” career right away, I’m finding my interest and experimenting my interests and seeing where they lead. I’ve taken up small projects, volunteering, and freelance gigs. This way, I’m learning more about what I enjoy — and what I don’t — without feeling boxed in.

This post is not to encourage idleness or laziness. This is coming from someone who has tried almost everything there is to try regarding career and businesses.

Take Small Steps Toward Something (Anything)

When you don’t know exactly where you’re going, any step forward can feel intimidating. But I’ve found that progress isn’t necessarily about big leaps; it’s about taking small steps that help you grow, even if you’re unsure of the destination.

I’m focusing on building skills that interest me, like writing, digital marketing, public relations and many more. I’m also networking, both online and offline, to learn from others and explore different fields. Each small step is an experiment, and even if it’s not “the one,” it’s still helping me build confidence and experience, key emphasis on “EXPERIENCE”.

Surround Yourself with Supportive People

It’s easy to feel lost when everyone around you seems to know exactly what they’re doing. For a while, I isolated myself because I felt embarrassed about my lack of direction. But then I started connecting with other recent graduates and even older friends who once felt the same way. Knowing I wasn’t alone made a huge difference and most times, those people who seem to have it all figured, actually doesnt have it figured out. All you need to do is just have a one on one conversation with them and you get to hear their triumphs and sorrows as well.

I’ve joined online communities and LinkedIn groups, where I can share my experiences and learn from others. Finding supportive people who understand this phase helps me stay motivated and open to new ideas. You network as well and as we all know, networking comes with opportunities.

Remember That Your Worth Isn’t Tied to a Job Title

I felt an unspoken pressure to immediately have a “good” job or impressive title. But the reality is, our worth is so much more than the positions we hold. Success looks different for everyone, and it doesn’t always happen on a strict timeline.

I’m focusing on personal growth rather than job titles. I’m exploring things that make me happy, like writing and creative projects, while keeping an open mind about potential career paths. Every experience I have right now adds to my story, even if it’s not conventional.

Give Yourself Grace (It’s a Process)

Navigating life after university is a process, not a race. Some people find their path immediately, while others take longer, and that’s perfectly okay. I’ve learned to give myself grace, to celebrate small victories, and to trust that I’ll find my way in time.

I’m taking time to reflect and journal about my experiences and what I’m learning. This helps me stay grounded and reminds me that progress doesn’t always have to be visible to be valuable. I’, also taking courses to equip myself for that dream job. I’m networking as well, there’s power in networking.

A Clueless University Graduate was originally published in Write A Catalyst on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Okay, I need to get this off my chest: why is nobody reading my post on Medium? Seriously, what’s going on? I spent hours writing, editing, and pouring my heart into this piece. I finally hit publish, full of hope, thinking, “This is it! People are going to love this”. And then… nothing. Not a single clap. Just the silence of an empty notification bell mocking me.

I thought Medium was supposed to be the place where writers could be seen? Isn’t that why we’re all here? It’s one thing to share my work on some random blog where no one will see it, but on Medium, I was convinced things would be different. Apparently, I was wrong.

If you’re reading this, you probably know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been there, refreshing the page every few minutes, wondering why the world isn’t showing up for your story. It’s a real struggle, and if I sound frustrated, it’s because I am! But here’s the thing: maybe we’re all just… missing each other. Maybe it’s not just us; maybe people just don’t know we’re here.

Where Is Everyone?

It’s hard enough to get up the courage to share your writing. But then, when no one even bothers to read it? That’s brutal. And honestly, it makes me question why I’m doing this. Am I writing for myself or for some mythical audience who may never come?

Here’s the truth I’ve come to realize, though: it’s not just about getting claps or comments (even though, let’s be real, that’d be nice!). It’s about making connections. And it seems like a lot of people on Medium don’t realize how much those tiny interactions can mean to us small writers just trying to be heard.

To the Readers Scrolling By…

If you’re here right now, I have a little plea: give us small writers a shot. Scroll through the feeds, check out the posts that aren’t coming from big publications or famous authors. Click on a title that’s intriguing, even if it’s from someone with zero followers. Because I promise you, there are hidden gems on here, posts that might actually speak to you in ways you didn’t expect.

It’s easy to get stuck reading the same writers over and over (I know I do it, too). But how are we ever supposed to discover new voices if we’re not willing to take a chance on the unknown ones?

And to My Fellow Small Writers…

I know it’s rough out here. I know how disheartening it can be to put yourself out there only to feel ignored. But please, don’t stop. Keep hitting publish, even if it feels pointless sometimes. Keep telling your stories, keep pouring your heart into your words, because somewhere out there is a reader who needs to hear exactly what you have to say.

Writing isn’t easy. We all know that. But we write because we have something inside of us that needs to be expressed, whether or not anyone is paying attention. Don’t let the empty notifications stop you from sharing that part of yourself. Someone will see it, someday.

So here’s my (not-so-subtle) call to action: if you’re here, read a post from someone new today. Share a clap. Leave a comment. It might mean more to that writer than you know. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find a story that surprises you.

Why is no one reading my post on medium? was originally published in Mr. Plan ₿ Publication on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I've been a reader since I was little. As a child, even when I hadn't learned to read, I was always with books, flipping through the pages, admiring and loving the smell of them. Books have always had a way of making me extremely happy, and I've always wondered how they came to be such an integral part of my life.

On my very low days, I drag my feet to the library just to look at books. I find comfort in being surrounded by them. I could go on and on about how books have transformed me and given me a canvas of unending possibilities. Books have a way of making you better, more inquisitive, and yearning for knowledge.

One day, you're writing and you suddenly use a word that sounds familiar. It's the kind of word you might have come across in a book, but even if it's new to you, you feel compelled to check it out. You discover that the meaning and context in which you used it was surprisingly accurate.

As a book reader, you effortlessly incorporate new words into your language, and they fit into what You’ve imagained. that’s the power of reading. In social gatherings, you join conversations and are surprised by your impressive vocabulary.

I often get asked for tips on how to become a better writer, and my response is almost always the same: “Just read a lot.” Reading and consistency in writing are the two main ways that I have developed my writing skill over the years. Reading opens up my mind to a new word and helps expand my horizons. I think of innovative things that I’m not sure anyone has ever thought of. Reading opens you up to different writing voices so that you’re able to find yours.

I live in a whole new world of possibilities whenever I read. Reading helps me live vicariously through different characters, this is one of the things that fueled my passion for writing. I remember vividly, while growing up, I was always curled up under my blankets, on a rainy day, lost in the pages of a good book , those were the golden days. Those were the days my passion for books was birthed.

I’m a Booklover, I can barely express how therapeutic reading is, You just know better when you immerse yourself in books.

Life as a Booklover was originally published in Write A Catalyst on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The phrase “if he wanted to, he would” is becoming real to you as you’re so mad you let a man treat you the way he did. Just a few days ago, you were very excited about your first date with James. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully applying your makeup and putting in so much efforts to look good. Tonight was the third date with James, a man who had seemed charming and sincere on your first encounter. But this was the third time you felt that flutter of hope, only to be stood up, yet again.

The first time, you had waited in the cozy little coffee shop in Gwarimpa for almost an hour. James had called, apologizing profusely, saying something came up at work. You, the optimistic one, believed him. You had gone home, a little disappointed but hopeful for your next meeting.

The second date was set for a Saturday afternoon at the park. You had dressed casually; you wore a yellow sun dress excited for a relaxing day outdoors. You had even packed a small picnic. Yet, once again, you found yourself sitting alone on a park bench, the food untouched beside you. James had sent a text an hour later, another excuse about a family emergency. This time, you felt a deeper sting of rejection, but you shrugged it off, giving him the benefit of the doubt, the problem with you is that you never see the bad in people which is why you’ve constantly been taken for granted.

Now, on the third date, you had mixed feelings. Part of you knew what was coming, but another part of you clung to the hope that James would show up and everything would make sense because nobody is daft enough to stand someone up twice and not redeem themselves the third time. You arrived at the trendy new restaurant and sat calmly praying to God to let this effort be worth it, this time around. You sat at the table, your eyes darting to the door each time it opened. Minutes turned to hours, and the familiar wave of disappointment washed over you.

As you sat there, alone again, you tried as much as you could to control your tears as you start to think of how not so worth it you are, because people create time for those they care about and deem important and just maybe you’re not that important. The problem wasn’t James; it was your willingness to tolerate being treated as an afterthought. you had been so focused on finding love and validation from someone else that you had neglected to give yourself the love and respect you deserved.

You decided that night to embark on a new journey, one of self-love and self-discovery. You started small, treating yourself to your favourite activities: reading, painting, and long walks in nature and most importantly, blocking James for your sanity. You also surrounded yourself with supportive friends who uplifted you rather than bring you down. You remembered how angry your best friend, Angie was when you narrated everything to her and how she made you promise her to never let a man treat you that way, ever again.

Part of your journey involved setting boundaries, you learned to say no to people who didn’t respect your time and energy. You became more selective about who you let into your life, ensuring they were people who valued you as much as you valued yourself.

Self-love wasn’t just about emotional and mental well-being; it was also about taking care of your physical self. You developed a skincare routine, started eating healthier, and made sure to get enough sleep. You pampered yourself with little treats, bubble baths, a new book, and a day at the spa.

Over time, you noticed a change, you felt more confident, happier, and at peace with yourself. you no longer sought validation from others because you found it within yourself. You realized that self-love wasn’t a destination but an ongoing journey, one that you embraced wholeheartedly.

Months later, at an art gallery opening, you bumped into James. He looked surprised to see you, and after an awkward exchange, he apologized for his past behavior, explaining the personal struggles he had been facing. You listened, forgave him, and wished him well, you walked away, feeling a sense of closure, but more importantly, a sense of pride in how far you had come.

Your story is a testament to the power of self-love. You learned that loving yourself is the foundation for every other relationship, just as Myles Munroe explained.

Being an overly social girl in high school to becoming a super socially awkward and anxious person feels surreal even now. I miss the carefree days filled with laughter, social networking, and the exhilarating rush of connecting with friends. Back then, my brain wasn’t wired to care about what others thought; I was self-confident and vibrant. But that confidence slowly faded, replaced by an overwhelming sense of self-awareness and anxiety.

The great shift began in my first year of university. I noticed a great change in how I interacted with others. I became acutely aware of myself, my mannerisms, my words, even my laughter. I started to obsess over how I presented myself in social situations, constantly worrying about whether I was saying the right things or if people were judging me. This newfound self-consciousness dragged me down, inhibiting my ability to enjoy social gatherings and connect with others.

The impact of this anxiety was profound. I found myself unable to answer questions in class, even when I knew the answers, unable to contribute to social discourse even when I was very much interested. My heart raced, and my palms would sweat as I sat silently, afraid to speak up. I remember feeling so frustrated with myself, knowing that my voice was trapped within me. I withdrew from social interactions, missing out on events and gatherings, which only made my anxiety worse.

Over the years, I gradually worked on overcoming these challenges. I sought support from friends and family who understood my struggles, every night, I’d cry out to God to release and save me from the shackles of social anxiety. I watched videos, I read articles I practiced self-compassion and reminded myself that it was okay to feel anxious and that I was not alone in this fight, there was a great relief realising that I wasn’t just the only one that felt that way.

I began greatly improving myself and challenging myself to do things I was socially afraid to do. Gradually, each small victory felt monumental, answering a question in class, initiating a conversation, or attending a social event. With time and practice, I reclaimed bits of my former self.

The improvement feels incredible. I still experience anxiety, but I’ve learned to manage it better. I remind myself that my worth isn’t defined by the opinions of others.

I’m learning to embrace who I am, imperfections and all. The journey is ongoing, but I’m committed to breaking free from the shackles of social anxiety, step by step. It’s a liberating feeling to know that I’m slowly returning to the vibrant, social person I used to be.

Release Me From the Shackles of Social Anxiety was originally published in Know Thyself, Heal Thyself on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.