There was a night I’ll never forget. My children were fast asleep, their soft breaths the only sound in the room, while I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into nothing. My phone had just notified me of yet another job rejection. I felt numb. Not because of the job—but because it felt like everything I had worked for was slowly slipping through my fingers.
I had graduated with a degree in Biology, filled with dreams and quiet determination. I believed education was the path to something better—for me, for my children, for the life I imagined as a girl growing up in Oyo State. But life after graduation was not a straight road. It was curved, cracked, and often cruel. And in that moment, I asked myself the question I never thought I would: “Was all of this for nothing?”
I wanted to cry, but I was too tired. Too drained. I felt invisible—just a woman, married, with two children, whose dreams were being slowly replaced with routines and responsibilities.
But then I heard my daughter stir in her sleep. She whispered, half-dreaming, “Mummy…”
That one word brought me back. Because I remembered: I wasn't doing this just for me. I was doing it for them. For every girl who was told to sit down, and every woman who was told to be silent. For the future I still had the power to shape.
That night, I didn’t cry. I wrote. I poured out my heart, and I started a plan. A new one. If one door wouldn’t open, I’d build another. Whether through my voice, my skills, my story, or my strength—I would rise.
And I did.
Today, I may not have it all figured out, but I have peace. I have purpose. I have my voice. And I use it—to remind every woman who feels lost, tired, or overlooked:
You are not alone. You are not weak. You are not finished. You are just started!!!
Sometimes silence is the best response.Let your results speak louder than arguments.Your consistency, not your noise, will be your proof.Stay …
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Crown B
51 days ago"The Day I Chose to Rise"
There was a night I’ll never forget. My children were fast asleep, their soft breaths the only sound in the room, while I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into nothing. My phone had just notified me of yet another job rejection. I felt numb. Not because of the job—but because it felt like everything I had worked for was slowly slipping through my fingers.
I had graduated with a degree in Biology, filled with dreams and quiet determination. I believed education was the path to something better—for me, for my children, for the life I imagined as a girl growing up in Oyo State. But life after graduation was not a straight road. It was curved, cracked, and often cruel. And in that moment, I asked myself the question I never thought I would: “Was all of this for nothing?”
I wanted to cry, but I was too tired. Too drained. I felt invisible—just a woman, married, with two children, whose dreams were being slowly replaced with routines and responsibilities.
But then I heard my daughter stir in her sleep. She whispered, half-dreaming, “Mummy…”
That one word brought me back. Because I remembered: I wasn't doing this just for me. I was doing it for them. For every girl who was told to sit down, and every woman who was told to be silent. For the future I still had the power to shape.
That night, I didn’t cry. I wrote. I poured out my heart, and I started a plan. A new one. If one door wouldn’t open, I’d build another. Whether through my voice, my skills, my story, or my strength—I would rise.
And I did.
Today, I may not have it all figured out, but I have peace. I have purpose. I have my voice. And I use it—to remind every woman who feels lost, tired, or overlooked:
You are not alone. You are not weak. You are not finished.
You are just started!!!