Hi my name is Femi and I’m a mess — Part 1

Before I start let me tell you something. It’s 12:52 am here. My brain is fried, my body is weak and so, if this turns out a bit messy, blame it on my job, the one that made me work for 11 hours non stop.

Since almost a year now, my life has been put upside down. My priorities have changed, my beliefs and values have been questioned, my focus has shifted and now I’m in the middle of a mess.

So, about a month ago, I published my first book. Yeah, it is pretty exciting and to be honest, I’ve never realized what I’ve accomplished. I was too busy trying to make it work to notice it. Even when I hold it in my hands, it still doesn’t seem real or doesn’t seem like a big deal.

Thing is, during the past year, I did not only grow as a person, but I met new people. The kind that make you say “Damn, what the h*** have I been doing with my life”, yep those kind of people. I met writers, singers and dancers, entrepreneurs, activists, and many more. And I had a big slap in my face. It was indeed time to wake up.

With all of these amazing people surrounding me, doing their best to make a change, or just fully living their passion, I eventually felt the thing; The one commonly called pressure I mean. And I was far from being ready to deal with it. But since life doesn’t really care about my feelings, well, it made me go through hell.

Although all of these new people inspired me in their own way, there were a few of them who actually hit me bad. In other words, they got to me. They made me say “wow”. They activated something I had no idea existed, a stalker. I became a reporter, an investigator, a detective. It’s creepy I know, but it was the first time I was feeling such a thing. I’ve never met anybody who actually intrigued, surprised and amazed me like that and so my brain didn’t know what else to do. I was like a kid who have found a new candy store, one that had all of the sweets she adores. I was like a young girl, slowly falling in love with this black handsome guy with chocolate eyes and a gorgeous afro… *Focus, Femi*.

Anyhow, it was all new for me and I was excited. For months and months, following them became a routine. I’d often check their posts and think about it. Or actually just agree with it. And the few moments they would notice me, I’d be on a trip to heaven. My heart would beat faster, my hands would shake, my eyes would be teary. I was bad in love.

But like every love story, there are peaks and troughs. And as the peaks would please me, the troughs would more intensively pain me. Truth is, I lost myself in the middle of this adventure.

I’ve actually let go of myself. I forgot what I had in me. Day after day, step by step, I forgot that I too, am something.

1. I started comparing myself to them

Yep, I did it. A lot. Too much. For too long. At first I didn’t realize, I didn’t think about it. I guess it’s part of the first symptoms, the ones we barely notice. It went from me admiring their work, to me questioning my work. Wait, what work, Femi ?

As I’d be fighting my own battles, or what I believed were mine, I’d noticed they’ve done it already. They’ve done it way before me and in many cases, better than me. What I thought was new, and different, just became trivial and common. So what, this is pointless?

My research, my questioning, my “Oh my goodness, I didn’t know that”, were all just common stuff?

2. Their approval became king

What will they think if I say this ? Will they agree if I use that ? Will they like this article ? Will they still like me, after this one ? The people pleaser in me was awake. That girl, just lost herself while trying to please others. The time it really became obvious, was when I wrote this article on homosexuality. God, I almost died out of stress and fear. Actually I think I did die, and came back to life few months later. Funny thing is this fear did not just limit itself to those few people, it expanded way beyond. The public was my new demon. I was scared of their words. I used not to care, because I believed in what I did. But then I’ve learnt new ways of thinking, I’ve learnt to see both sides of the story and to consider people’s standpoints. In the process, I’ve stopped considering my own beliefs and background. In those situations, when I’d eventually push the “publish” button, I’d be hoping for them to give me a sign, to show me that I did the right thing. I became addicted to their thumbs up.

3. I lost my interests

If it isn’t new, if others are fighting it, then why border ? I mean, we are never too many fighting for a better something, but what’s the point of just doing the same as everyone ? Don’t we want/need innovations? It’s not about creating the wheel but reinventing it, they say. But at that moment, my reinvention was not that new anymore. My battle was common, my weapon was common, everything became the exact representation of another person’s previous or current battle. So I lost my uniqueness, my identity, as I thought I owned it. Silly me, I was just another baby who had learnt how to walk.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all happy to have met those people. They inspire me, and give me strength in ways, they probably aren’t aware of. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I ended up searching for their approval, instead of just appreciating their guidance. I started putting too much pressure on myself and loosing myself. And me being an overthinker did not make things easier. I’d beat myself up for days and weeks, just for a single mistake. I’d question my reasoning, my arguments and my evidence, just because they were too different. But maybe it’s all just part of living life, just one of life’s numerous trials, the ones that help you discover yourself.

So right now I’m still messy. Part because of all of this, and also because she left me. But like they say, the first step toward healing oneself is to acknowledge that one has a problem. Here I am then, all pretty and messy. I’ll try to post about this new challenge as often as possible, just to keep track of it and see if I’m actually making the effort to overcome it. Let’s just hope that my brain cooperates.