Often times, when I hear compliments like “you’re beautiful,” I will smile and say “thank you,” but no one will understand that behind the beauty are tears, waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling or  looking forward to the day my prayers will be answered amidst the confused state I’m in and being lost in prayer most times.

I don’t want to talk about the disappointments and betrayals of people who claim to love me too. Friends snitching on me or trying to sell me out.

How about the storms of life I’ve been dazed by? It’s one aspect of my life I don’t really like talking about.

This is not about glorifying suffering, but the fact that despite everything that has happened and is still happening, I come out stronger and “beautiful,” even though I love my space and wouldn’t want anyone to disturb me. No one has any idea how much energy I have put in to make me look the way I do.

I’ve been asked several questions, like, “How do you do it?”
You don’t like what you’ve been through; what’s the secret?
What therapist did you meet? Excuse me, but in a country like Nigeria, people don’t really care about going for therapy sessions. Most people only care about physiotherapy, chemotherapy, and the like.

About seeing a therapist, I just tell them that I can’t get my mind back and show some gratitude. At least, I’m not dead, so there’s hope.

What’s alarming is that I always come out looking beautiful, or should we say radiant, when I’m coming out of any mess.

I’m not saying the aftermath is not there; it will always be there. But the fact that I have made up my mind to heal is key for me.

It’s true when they say the battle field of life is the mind. Once you can conquer that, you’re 50% into your victory.

You won’t be wrong if you say that’s my secret ingredient. But then, it has always worked for me.

My scars have made me beautiful in the sense that they give me strength to prepare for the next “task” ahead. Life is always full of surprises. Just like they’d always say, the street is full of surprises. For me, I see life that way.

Imagine being used to pain. Like it has become part of me. (I don’t wish anyone to get used to pain.) My scars have really shaped me in all aspects of life. even though it’s unbearable most times.

The street is not for the weak, hence we keep pushing, and I believe the “scars that make me beautiful will soon emerge to making the person I’ve always wanted to be.”


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  1. Congratulations darling you will always emerge victorious. Keep doing what you, God would crown your effort with good success.


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