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Failing well Reflections Slow down vulnerability Work

The Fear We Carry: A Guide to Reclaiming Confidence Through Vulnerability and Action

I’m taking a mini detour from my series on Understanding Responsibility and the Impact of Actions to write on confidence.

It starts with fear. ‘I can’t do it,’ the voice in our head whispers. The mind hesitates and almost stutters out a ‘but…,’ but the voice continues with a more trivial reason ‘I am not tall enough, they need six feet, I’m only 5.6.’ ‘I’m shy.’ ‘I’m socially awkward.’ ‘They’ll come to see me as who I am — the impostor.’

And what’s more, the more we present this person to the world, the more we become it, the ‘socially awkward’ boy, the ‘not tall enough’ girl, ‘the impostor,’ and the list goes on. We are who we say we are.

If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people’s fantasies for me and eaten alive.

Audre Lorde.

I have often dined with fear. It was my default reaction when I faced uncertainties; I know how crippling fear can be when we aren’t sure about anything; I can even describe the taste — salty, metallic, bitter — when fear becomes anxiety. I’ve found that this state of mind often leads to unhealthy reactions to situations.

Fear does not appreciate the light of awareness. When we call fear by its name, we acknowledge its presence, enabling us to approach the situation with vulnerability and proactivity in seeking solutions. Calling the problem its name allows one to start from a place of vulnerability and gratitude and arrive at forgiveness and clarity with trust in oneself.

Fear dampens confidence. When we let fear in, we become our fears, often hindering our ability to function in the presence of struggle. I’ve felt fear varying from ‘what if nobody wants to listen to me?‘ ‘what if I’m unable to provide for my family?’ I’ve found that in most situations, this fear has always been less about myself and more about others and what people will think.

I am careful not to personalise fear, for when I say ‘my fear,’ it becomes true — my fear. Instead, I express it as ‘I feel fear.’ ‘I have a fear.’ ‘The fear I’ve felt.’ This way, I’m acknowledging a state of emotion that isn’t identical with my identity. This approach helps me see this state as a visitor just here to visit, and should be on its way soon.

I have a fear, and I find that when this fear comes up in my head, I become less confident and start to stutter. The people closest to me could write a series about it. Others, however, remain oblivious unless I open up. Then, they struggle to fathom how someone perceived as ‘bold‘ as I could ever be shy.

People see me as extroverted and wonder what I mean when I mention that I struggle with talking. Just being able to articulate my thoughts and express them to others in a large social setting drains my body of energy. A colleague said it was difficult to believe I had such struggles because I didn’t show it, and I responded that I hid it well.

Each time I unmute my microphone, I battle between making my voice ‘heard’ enough and the voices in my head asking – ‘Is my voice strong enough?‘ ‘Am I making sense?‘ ‘Do these people want to listen to me?’ ‘Am I losing them?‘ ‘Uh oh, are they about to interrupt me? Have I stopped making sense?

So, when I started the new year, it wasn’t surprising that my journal entry was ‘I will use my voice more.’

I realise it is not easy to tell someone to be brave and confront their fears without telling them how to. The concept of bravery, as explored in my previous work, extends far beyond merely overcoming fear. At that moment, fear is all they can see; it is all that exists. I have been on both sides of the tunnel: the fearful person and the person dishing the advice. We must also remember to listen to ourselves when we dish out these bits of advice.

Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t — you’re right.

Henry Ford

If we surrender to fear, we remain where we are, stranded, stagnant. Someone who is afraid of taking the plunge to study for a new course that would take four years to complete because they think there’s no time is correct.

There’s no time if we say there’s no time. However, four years is always in the future and will eventually come. Start today, and in four years, this person will be on the verge of completion, but start later, and it will still take four years.

The next time the thought of fear comes, slow down to reflect on where you were several years ago. If you could have taken a step toward your goal back then, imagine where you could be now. Now, project yourself into the future and consider if you would regret not starting today. What’s the worst that can happen? Let these reflections spur you to action.

Fear blames because it needs an outlet to move responsibility away from the self. It finds another, who is responsible, constantly referring to the past or someone whose fault it is they can’t take responsibility in the moment.

Fear prolongs suffering.

Fear hinders our progression to the next stage. It presents a situation as ‘the obstacle,’ rather than puzzle pieces. It complicates matters, not just for us but for everyone in our lives.

Fear makes it difficult to stay grounded in the present, as it continually catapults us into a non-existing future, thus disabling our ability to see and appreciate what is happening in the present.

Many of us face fear; not even the CEO of the biggest company in the world is immune. We all have demons that keep us awake deep in the night and leave us restless long after sleep has fled. Those tiring days filled with wishes, prayers, hopes for things to be different, and anxiety about the future.

Yet, we are here, still grappling with fears, albeit new ones. If only we could look back in gratitude and see how far we’ve come.

‘beloved’ is both verb and noun, both identity and instruction. Fear is an affront to your spirit, so don’t be scared, be loved.

Moyosola Olowokure

The above quote illuminates love as the antidote to fear. When love takes over, everything feels alright — even though everything has always been okay — we just had not realised it.

Suddenly, everything becomes light and free. Freedom comes with love and clarity, bringing a new wave of confidence. We transform, becoming captivating with a new sense of allure, and in the process, we discover a new version of ourselves.

Fear is the greatest deterrent to confidence. Confidence is on the other side of fear; I searched for the synonyms and found the following:

assurance, self-assurance, self-confidence, self-reliance, self-esteem, boldness, certainty, conviction, trust, faith, positivity, poise, assertiveness, sureness, fearlessness, courage, self-trust, belief, security, composure.

The term ‘confidence‘ comes from the Latin word ‘confidentia,’ which means ‘trusting in oneself.’

Many people have reached where we aspire to be primarily because of how confident they are in themselves. They might not be more qualified than us, yet, like a butterfly with its vibrant and bold display, their confidence is immediately captivating.

Charmed by the butterfly’s radiance, it’s easy to overlook the reticent worker bee diligently making honey or the unassuming wallflower producing nectar. Yet, it’s important to remember the butterfly itself isn’t the source of the nectar enhancing its allure.

We must remember that hard work, resilience, and talent form the basis for long-lasting confidence.

By recognising our fears and calling them by their name, we bring them into the light and take responsibility for them.

We take responsibility by first slowing down to give gratitude for where we are coming from and the clarity of knowing that something is wrong and then committing towards bringing ourselves to the spotlight through curiosity and an action plan.

In my case, I began to assert myself more within my circles. In my community, I started leading some of the weekly meditation and Sunday gratitude sessions on ClubHouse. I also started participating more in the conversations. I’m not there yet, but I’m using my voice more.

Growth is uncomfortable; it’s like working a tight muscle until it stretches. I remember feeling uncomfortable the first time I turned on my camera during a video call. Now, it feels awkward to have a call with the camera off.

When we can address fear by its name, we’ve taken the first step towards light, and thereon, we can find ways to work out a solution. In time, we realise that it isn’t even all that bad.

In the words of Moyosola Olowokure, ‘Fear is an affront to your spirit. be loved.’

Fear is passive, stagnating our spirit, while love and confidence—emotions synonymous with action—propel us forward. Fear avoids action, whereas our spirit inherently thrives on doing. As we immerse ourselves in action and curiosity, we push back against fear until it becomes a mere shadow and a distant memory.

As Sang Zhi aptly puts it in my recent favourite series, ‘Hidden Love,’ ‘after all the bad things are over, all that is left are the good things. So, from now on, you must be even more certain that you are the best.’

You must be kinder to yourself. Affirm this to yourself that you are the best in the world, and no one can tell you otherwise.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this piece. What fears do you carry with you? More importantly, what strategies have you found effective in combating these fears? Please, share your experiences and insights in the comment section. Your story might be the encouragement someone else needs.

Categories
Gratitude Corner Mindfulness Slow down

Remembering to Stay Present in Moments of Awareness and Gratitude

Last December was a myriad of events, as we were all exhausted from the spike in ridesharing fees, congested traffic, and fuel shortage. On this day, we walked a long distance from our house to catch a bus at the junction and then walked even further from the bus stop to the hospital because it was during this time that my brother was ill. After seeing the good doctor, we walked a good kilometre to reach the next bus stop, and it was here that we encountered what was going to be our fate for the next few minutes.

A keke driver appeared, as if by magic, with one passenger on board.

“Ojota!” we screamed in excitement, as it was almost too good to be true. Other buses that had gone by either needed only one passenger or none at all and many people were waiting at the bus stop. We were already on our way from the bus stop as we’d resolved to continue the journey on foot or if we were lucky, we’d find a suitable vehicle to take the four of us. We quickly got in as the vehicle slowed down. “Wole, (Enter)” the driver screamed in pidgin. “Enter sharp sharp, dem dey arrest keke for here! (Enter quickly, they’re arresting keke drivers here)

We jumped in. My brother Newman and I got into the keke, followed by Bobo, who took the front seat. However, another passenger was already in the vehicle, and the seats were not going to be enough for all of us. The driver, acting as if he was in a hurry, instructed my younger brother Neche to sit on Newman’s lap. The driver had previously apologised for the inconvenience caused by the extra passenger, saying that the man would come down ‘up there.’

In horror, I blurted to the driver. “He’s sick, he can’t carry him.” I didn’t realise what I had said until the driver retorted in pidgin: “how I wan take know? My own na mek him enter, mek we dey go. (How could I have known? I’m only interested in moving this vehicle).

Of course, how could the driver have known that we were just coming from the hospital?

Newman lapped Neche, and laughter bubbled up from within me, as I shook my head at my own silliness.

Na true, you for no know. (That’s true. You couldn’t have known)” I responded in a voice that sounded almost like a whisper, in pidgin.

This was me in my element, surrounded by family, full of excitement, and almost forgetting to breathe.

After about two minutes, which felt like ten minutes, I heard the driver ask Newman for a rag behind him. I turned to look at the rag and noticed how dirty it was and wondered if I had my hand sanitiser in my tote bag.

But that was not what Newman was thinking. In fact, I was not privy to Newman’s thoughts until we got off the keke. The events that followed seemed like something that happened in movies. Because I later found out that Newman reached into his right pocket, pulled out his phone, and held it in his other hand before grabbing the rag for the driver from the booth.

Just before reaching the Coca-Cola roundabout at Alausa, the driver suddenly became manic. “Na for that hill I go drop una. I no dey reach Ojota bus stop o. If una want, I go drop una for here, give you change. (I will drop you people at that hill. I’m not getting to Ojota. If you want, I will stop here and give you your change.” In a calm voice, still oblivious of what had happened or was happening, I asked, “Which hill? I’m sure we can get off there.” Neche started to add in Igbo, “Ify, do you know that place where…”

Out of the blue, I heard Newman say in his calmest voice, “Ifunanya, don’t argue. Listen to me. Collect the change and let’s get off here.” 

The manner in which Newman spoke caught my attention, and I listened without arguing, which was unusual for me, as I would typically argue with my brother. But, oh well, he called my full name, and anytime he does that, he means business.

We took the change and got out of the keke. The driver then quickly drove away with the other passenger.

Newman explained what happened then. The driver had used an “old scope” to try to distract him. When the driver asked Newman to grab the rag from behind him, the thought was that this would cause Newman to turn and thus be momentarily distracted, which would allow the other passenger the opportunity to try and steal Newman’s phone by slipping his hand into Newman’s pocket. However, Newman was alert and had noticed the passenger’s attempt to steal his phone because the phone was nearly half an inch away from his pocket then. The driver and his accomplice didn’t expect that Newman was familiar with the scope as pickpockets had tried this tactic on him in the past.

Then he asked. “Did you notice that the passenger was still in the keke even though the driver had said he was going to drop soon?”

This experience with my brother was another crucial step in my ongoing journey towards mindfulness. For days, I would reflect on this experience, as I had been oblivious of this side of my brother. As I applaud his ability to slow down in that moment of need, I also recognize how difficult it can be to stay present.

Last year, I became a member of Akanka Spaces—an intentional community of people focused on nurturing a mindset of love, backed by the framework of intention. This framework teaches that everything begins with slowing down, followed by gratitude and responsibility. Adopting this mindset has helped me become more intentional in my life, allowing me to approach situations with a greater sense of purpose and understanding.

Sometimes, we are fully aware of a moment, and other times, we only realise it when someone or something calls our attention to the present, and I wonder how many of such times I have failed to recognise such moments. My answer is ‘probably a lot of times.’

A lot of times, I find myself acting impulsively and absent-mindedly. Much to my detriment, this happens more often than I am proud to admit.

If we can slow down to be present in the moment, we can catch these moments before they slip away. Otherwise, we may find ourselves acting in ways that we may later regret.

Awareness of these moments is a rare gift, and my brother’s actions served as a powerful reminder of its importance.

Since that day, I have made a conscious effort to be more present in my interactions with friends and family. I have discovered that by slowing down to pay attention and be aware of the moment, I can better understand and support the people around me. This awareness has not only enriched my relationships, but it has also allowed me to grow as an individual.

Categories
Mindfulness Slow down Travel

How do I sustain this feeling of bliss I experienced on my journey at IITA?

Photographed by Ifunanya Okolie.

I never knew I could enjoy my company as much as I did on this journey at IITA. Solo travelling is exciting, and I would do it all over again.

I did not go to IITA to have fun. I was on a soul-searching journey. As cheesy as that sounds, I went to IITA to bring myself back to me. I was not in a good place, and I needed to go somewhere that felt safe and familiar, and because I was at IITA in June and liked it there, I knew it was the perfect place for me.

I am not in the habit of travelling; June was the first time I travelled. However, I recommend leaving our safe spaces every once in a while to do something that feels good for us.

As I walked through the driveway at IITA, I found myself reflecting on Fred Minnick’s Experiencing the world through my senses on Meditative Story, and this line stayed with me throughout my walk: “I have smelled eucalyptus hundreds of times, but I have never taken the time to really just become entranced with it. Now I allow myself to let the smell linger in my senses with nowhere to be and nothing to prove.”

After my stay at IITA and on my long nights of walking the streets of my neighbourhood, I would come to understand why Fred Minnick spoke to me. 

Coming home to a familiar place: How my senses play a huge part in my upbringing.

At IITA, I felt the trees and plants through their individual scents, and as I walked through them, they hit me, leaving behind a scent that feels so familiar; a smell that takes me home to a time when I was little and walked the woods to fetch water from the stream at Udu Ukpor in my village, and firewoods at Ugwu ekwensu and nri ewu (fodder) for the goats in my grandparent’s house. My memory of fetching fodder may have awakened these senses in me, as I learnt to recognize goat feed through their scents from foddering fetching with my cousins and mama (grandmother). Likewise, I learnt their names and knew not to fetch ata because it was a plant that could tear a goat’s mouth. I also understood that ara ma njino is nutritious and helps with red blood cell production for goats, so we made sure to fetch plenty of it.

This scent from home guided me on my walk through the residential driveway, led me on my run to the forests at IITA, down to the lake, and straight to breakfast as I dashed, first, for the glass of water at the breakfast table. I tell everyone who cares to listen that the water IITA served at breakfast is delicious and leaves behind a feeling of freshness that registers itself in the back of my head. Drinking the water at IITA reminds me of a time my papa (grandfather) drank the water we fetched from Udu Ukpor on a hot afternoon, and the first words he exclaimed were ‘mmiri nke a ná ató nọ òmí.’ In English, it translates to “this water hits the right spot of the brain,” meaning that the water tasted very delicious. 

At the breakfast table in June, I had argued with my friends about why I thought the water was pure, and they had responded in utter disbelief, ‘Ify, pure water should have no taste.’ Of course, we learnt in school that one of the qualities of good water is ‘tasteless.’ What if I had said it had a distinct smell? I would have shot myself in the foot by unintentionally declaring that the water, which I had argued was pure, failed to meet two safe water quality requirements. But I am uncertain how to debate that I did not mean ‘smell’ in a bad sense and that I meant it had a good scent. That also would not have bode well, as good water should not taste or smell in a certain way. I could argue that good water should not taste flat. However, please forgive my argument here, as I am not a water quality specialist.

“How do I sustain this feeling of calm and bliss that I experienced at IITA?”

As I journeyed home from IITA, I felt a sense of dread as I wondered how I could sustain the feeling I had on my travel. How do I keep the calm and the bliss I had experienced as I move back to my life of responsibilities? 

The first few days after my arrival from IITA, I concentrated more on my hearing, paying extra attention to nature as I walked my neighbourhood. I felt my senses heighten, and I swear I could smell something familiar from the sparsely grown shrubs on the roads. I listened out for birds’ sounds, and their melodies seemed distinguishable from other sounds, and I wondered if there was a time I did not hear them before. I could perceive the freshness of the morning, and I squinted when an unpleasant smell of gas broke the pleasant air.

I focused on continuing the routine I developed at IITA until I realized I was trying hard to maintain the euphoria I experienced at IITA. While meditating with Rohan Gunatitillake, I came upon Lehua Kamalu’s story:  Tracking the path of the sun, and saw I wasn’t alone. Lehua also felt the same way on her trip back from the sea when she asked the question:

“How, I wonder, will I orient myself on land? How will I spot the stars, when the sky seems so much smaller from land than it does at sea?”

Lehua Kamalu

“I think it would suck if God did not exist. Otherwise, how can I explain beauty, nature, love?”

One sunny evening on my way back from Lekki, as my inDriver steered the car through the roads of Ikoyi, I beamed in delight as I saw a world I may have been oblivious to. Ikoyi was beautiful against the evening sun with the trees and tall buildings. I realized I was letting myself see Ikoyi for the first time. My driver asked if it was my first time visiting Lagos. No, it wasn’t. I didn’t realize we had such beauty around us.

In my journal entry, I wrote as I watched, “I think it would suck if God did not exist. Otherwise, how can I explain beauty, nature, love?”

“No, nature keeps on giving. It’s beautiful out here.”

As I go through my daily routine through life and work, I realize that the experiences I take from my visit to IITA will remain with me if I let them. They are here, with me. I experienced them, and I take them with me. In being here — present, I become content with this place and accept that this imperfect place can be a happy place too. 

One of the blessings I bring with me from IITA is clarity. I can listen to the thoughts in my head more clearly. I feel thankful for the people I met at IITA. Even though I may never get to meet some of them again, I feel my paths may cross again with others. 

This place can be a happy place if I can slow down and remain present.

IITA has become my sanctuary; it is a safe space for me to slow down and unwind. But I don’t need to go to IITA to slow down. I can recall the lessons from my journey and slow down with myself or my folks at Akanka Spaces. And I can decide to go back anytime, and it does not have to be when I feel my spirit separate from my body. However, I am back to my reality, home, friends, siblings, family, and responsibilities.

While I am back in this very familiar place, I remind myself that this place I have here can be a happy place if I can slow down and remain present. I needed a return home to bring me back to this place of consciousness and intentionality, and I am thankful to be home again.