Letter 7: Just take a shower

A couple of years ago, all I wrote were sad stories. It was a reflection of the immense pain that engulfed my soul.

Things are different now. I’m happy.

Leaving Nigeria largely contributed to this switch, I must confess. However, on my 21st birthday, I made the conscious decision to stop being a back seat passenger and take charge of the steering wheel of my life.

I acknowledge that many of the things that caused me pain were beyond my control, like my dismissal from the University of Lagos, my ovarian cyst surgery, and the collapse of my business. Nevertheless, I have grown to understand that life is in our hands, and if we cannot change a situation, we have the power to remove ourselves from it.

In a few months, I will turn 22. I’m nothing but grateful for how transformative this past year has been. This is an open diary, a letter to you with a simple message:

“It gets better if you wake up everyday wishing for it to.”

Life will throw curveballs at you, but all you need is to drink from the water of resilience and pick yourself up when you fall. The difficult days are temporary, and there’s happiness out there with your name on it.

I appreciate my mom for teaching me two simple things that have helped me maintain my sanity during those times when life conspired to drive me insane.

1. Take a shower.

2. Write it down.

I would come home from school, slam my bagpack on the floor, and go on a full rant to my mom, about how my math teacher flogged me more than the others. Years later, I would call my mom by 11pm and break down in tears, overwhelmed by the unmanageable workload imposed by my boss.

And on every occasion, my mom would gently say:

“Adorable, go and take a shower.”

Initially, I would get upset, taking a shower seemed unrelated to solving my problems. Regardless, in obedience, I would drag my legs to the bathroom and turn on the faucet. As soon as the water hits, I realise how right she was. Till today, taking a shower is my automatic reset button. It calms me, grounds me, and makes me realize that life can be enjoyable if I let go of my worries instead of holding onto them.

After the shower, there’s usually a lingering pain, so I do the next best thing: I reach for my journal and my trusty black ballpoint pen and write down all the things weighing on my mind. Releasing your thoughts and emotions into paper is a cathartic process, a way to externalize the chaos roaring within.

You can choose to burn the pages afterwards, symbolically releasing the weight they carry, or preserve them as a testament to your growth and resilience.

You don’t need to be a writer like me to cultivate this habit. The benefits of writing when troubled are understated. Putting everything into words gives you a sense of control, allowing you find solace and empowerment.

Sometimes, the answers you seek are already within you. They simply need to stare you right in the face.

What I’ve been listening to:

The euphoric feeling that this song inspires never gets old.

Listen to it: