We Are All Broken

Dear Reader, writing this article meant a lot to me, and your support would mean even more. Medium allows you to give up to 50 claps for an article, so if this resonated with you, please don’t hesitate to give it all 50. Thank you so much for being here and for cheering me on!

In this country where everybody is chasing "soft life" and shouting "God when," the idea that "we are all broken" can feel like a harsh slap of reality, like when you find out NEPA has taken light in the middle of your favorite show.

But let’s not lie to ourselves; life no balance for anyone, and that’s okay. You see, this thing we call brokenness is not a death sentence or a reason to feel like damaged goods; it’s actually what makes us human and even more interesting (like burnt jollof rice, weirdly tasty but unforgettable).

Life in Nigeria already comes with its own drama, traffic that makes you question your life choices, a tailor that gives you a jumpsuit when you asked for a gown, and of course, people asking for wedding aso ebi when you’re still struggling to buy garri.

These challenges, small or big, leave their mark on us, and while we like to pretend we’ve got it all together on Instagram, the truth is we’re all managing something behind the scenes.

Think of yourself like that broken calabash those our grandmas loved then, yes, it cracked, but if you patch it with gold like the Japanese do with kintsugi, it becomes even more beautiful and valuable ✨.

That heartbreak that had you crying into your pillow during harmattan taught you red flags to avoid.

That business idea that flopped like a failed amala flip taught you resilience and hustle spirit.

Every crack is part of your story, and like smoked egusi soup, your imperfections make you unique.

In fact, one thing about Nigerians is that we know how to find joy in wahala.

Mama Nkechi’s burnt egusi soup? She rebranded it as "smoky egusi" and now her shop is the talk of the town.

Or Tunde, whose fiancée left him and said, "It’s not you, it’s me." Instead of crying forever, he started a shawarma business, and now he’s making so much money he doesn’t even have time for "love is wicked" playlists anymore.

The truth is, your brokenness connects you to others. Nigerians love to gist, whether it’s about the price of fuel, village people’s alleged interference in your plans , or Lagos traffic.

The more we share our stories, the more we laugh, cry, and heal together.

Vulnerability is like a pack of chin chin at a party; it opens the door for people to connect with you.

To embrace your brokenness, first learn to laugh at yourself.

So, you mistakenly wore mismatched shoes to church? Laugh before the ushers do 🤣.

Find your tribe, those people that will reply to your rants with "eya, sorry o" or "pele, you go dey alright."

Turn your pain into gain; start that side hustle, hit the gym, or learn a new skill.

Most importantly, don’t be afraid to ask for help; even if the advice comes with unsolicited comments like "When will you marry?" from your aunties, take what works and leave the rest.

At the end of the day, remember that being broken doesn’t mean you’re finished. It just means you’re human.

Your scars, your struggles, and even that burnt pot of rice are all part of your story.

Life no dey perfect for anybody, but we go dey alright las las 🥂.

So embrace your imperfections and remember, "Na cracked walls dey still hold house together."