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!!!
Crown B
6 hrs 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!!!