The vibrant atmosphere of the church auditorium, usually her sanctuary, felt suffocating. As a chorister, her voice had always been her pride, but during rehearsals today, it felt heavy and strained. Her Music Director had noticed, stopping the session briefly to tell her she sounded off and gently suggesting she take a break.

That rejection, no matter how softly delivered, was the final straw.

Danielle walked to the very back of the empty church, slipping into one of the dimly lit rooms. For months, she had been holding up a crumbling facade. Being a pastor’s kid meant living under a microscope, and staying at the church until late hours was just a normal part of her routine. She tried to balance it all—even helping out in the welfare unit whenever she could—but her own internal reserves were completely empty.

Lord, I’m tired. She thought.

Everything was falling apart. Her academics were plummeting, leaving her feeling inadequate and overwhelmed. Mentally and emotionally, she was exhausted. To make matters worse, her friends had suddenly stopped talking to her for reasons they hadn't bother to explain, her boyfriend was ghosting her text messages, and her small business venture had completely dried up. Then came the blowout fight with her dad earlier that morning.

Sitting in the dim light of the church, Danielle finally let the tears fall.

She cried so hard her head began to ache with a dull, throbbing pressure, and her eyes grew hot and swollen. The weight of feeling entirely alone in a room she spent half her life in was crushing.

Then, the quiet strums of a familiar tune broke the silence.

Her friend David; a guitarist walked down the steps and quietly sat down in the room beside her. He didn’t pry. He didn't ask her what was wrong or demand explanations.

His silent presence was an open invitation, and Danielle took it.

The dam broke, and she ranted; pouring out the hurt of the ghosting, the academic failure, the isolation from her friends, and the pressure of her home life. David just sat there, nodding, and listened intently to every word.

When she finally ran out of breath and the tears slowed to a simmer, David looked at her with genuine kindness.

He just said, “You are enough. God said I should tell you that.”

He opened his Bible, turning to a familiar passage, and reminded her of Psalm 139:14, telling her that she was fearfully and wonderfully made, and that her worth wasn't tied to her performance, her business, or how others treated her. He reminded her of Matthew 11:28, where Jesus invites those who are weary and burdened to find rest.

For the first time in months, as they sat in the quiet church, the heavy weight on Danielle's chest began to lift.

There are some of us that are like Danielle, and I know it might be hard to admit right now but you need to come to terms with the fact that you’re enough.

I was once like Danielle, i never thought I was good enough no matter what I did.

But when I met Jesus and I understood that He was enough. That He was all I needed, I began to see myself as someone who was enough, who didn’t need validation from my friends to just be.

God sees you as someone who is worth His death and until you start believing that, you’ll let the already defeated devil try to put to you down.

I’ll say this again.

Dear child of God, YOU are enough.

I love you but Jesus loves you moreee! Bye.😗❤️

What did Timothy think of God’s creation?

That was the question.

Timothy, the nerdy student who jumped at sudden noises and double-checked locked doors, stared at the assignment.

He wanted to write something very short—but as he began to meditate, more and more unfurled.

“I'm talking too much”, he mumbled, pushing his glasses up. “Let me just dive right in.”

A song surfaced while he searched for words:

“All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things bright and wonderful, the Lord God made them all…”

He paused, as the melody played inside his mind.

And there, vivid as morning light, stood eight-year-old Timothy: on the assembly ground, in the school bus, at home, singing that song to no one but himself. A smile rose. Yet so did a quiet sorrow.

When, he wondered, had he stopped thinking of himself as God's beautiful creation?

Even now, fear clung to him like a second skin. He decided to offer this memory anyway, because the assignment had pried open a box he had long since shut.

Back to the question.

Timothy saw God's creation as beautiful, wonderful, fearfully made.

The grasses, the animals, the sun, the stars, the clouds…all of it was beautiful. And yet, as lovely as some are, they also frighten.

He knew fear.

Consider the lion: its mane, a blaze of glory, the sight of its roar, a terrible poetry.

A daring sight to behold.

But come face to face with that lion, and even the bravest would tremble—let alone Timothy, who flinched at a slammed door.

Still, that did not make the lion any less wonderful.

Whether it scares or soothes did not truly matter—because God's creation is an expression of His heart, of His love.

Every single stone. Each leaf falling from a tree. All of it, an expression of His heart.

And maybe. Just maybe.

That included Timothy too.

It started at the playground in Enugu. A boy named Chidi pointed at her and said her plaited hair looked like dry cassava tendrils. Then came primary school, where the girls whispered about her broad shoulders and the gap between her front teeth. By JSS2, a classmate had scratched the word “ODŪ” (ugly) into her desk with a compass.

Adanna learned to walk the corridors like a shadow, head down, shoulders curved, hoping if she disappeared enough, the word would stop chasing her. But it lived inside her now, a cold pebble in her chest.

At night, she would sit on the veranda of their bungalow in Trans-Ekulu, staring at the bright full moon. 

 What is it like? she wondered. What is it like to wake up and see a friend in the mirror?

Her grandmother, Mama Nkechi—the only soft voice in a loud world—found her crying one evening after church.

“Adanna nkem (my child),” Mama Nkechi said, pulling her onto the foam mattress spread on the floor. “You are letting the mouths of small children write a story that God did not author.”

“But Mama, maybe they see something I don’t see,” Adanna whispered.

Mama Nkechi reached for her worn-out King James Version Bible on the centre table. “Do you know what the psalmist said?” 

She opened to Psalm 139. “I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.”

Adanna sniffled. “I don’t feel wonderful.”

“Feelings are like harmattan dust,” Mama said. “They settle, but they pass. And remember Psalm 126? ‘They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.’ You have been sowing in tears for years, my daughter. The harvest is coming.”

Adanna wanted to believe her. But the world outside Mama’s parlour was relentless.

Years passed. The bullies faded—some went to Lagos, some married and had children, but their echoes didn’t. 

Adanna graduated from UNN with a quiet degree in Library Science. She got a job at a small bookshop in Owerri, near the Douglas Road roundabout. She learned to be content with invisibility. She never dated. When suitors came, she turned them away before they could turn her away.

Then one rainy afternoon, a man named Chukwudi started coming to the bookshop. He was a graphic artist with paint-stained fingernails and eyes lit with curiosity. He didn’t just ask for novels; he asked her opinion. He laughed at her dry Igbo proverbs. He noticed when she came with a new gele, even if it was just a simple one from Relief Market.

One evening, he showed her a sketch he had drawn of her reading behind the counter. It wasn’t flattering in the way magazine models are. 

It was... 

True. 

He had captured the way the evening light fell on her strong jaw, the quiet concentration in her deep-set eyes, the gentle strength in her shoulders.

“You see me,” she said, stunned.

“I have been trying to see you for three months,” Chukwudi said softly. “But you keep hiding behind that shelf. Why do you keep hiding?”

That night, Adanna sat alone in her rented room in Aladinma, the sketch in her hands. She thought of Psalm 139—fearfully and wonderfully made. She thought of Psalm 126—sowing with tears, reaping with joy. Then she remembered something odd. A line from a cartoon she had watched as a child on AIT, hiding from the world even then.

The next day, she walked to the bookshop. Chukwudi was waiting, nervous, holding a small framed painting wrapped in brown paper.

“I need to say something first,” Adanna said, her voice steady for the first time in her life. “You want to know what changed? I heard this in a cartoon once: ‘Beauty is in the sight of the beholder.’ This is my answer… but not exactly in the way you’re thinking that it is.”

Chukwudi lowered the painting.

But she continued. “The phrase ‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder’ means whoever or whatever is looking at you is what tells if you’re beautiful or not. While that is partially correct, it’s also partially wrong. The beholder cannot be just anybody or anything. The beholder has to be someone who sees you for who you truly are. Someone who knows you in-depthly. That person could be God, or a spouse, or a friend…or you.”

She took a shaking breath. “True beauty can only be seen by those who love said person the most.”

Chukwudi carefully set down the painting. He stepped forward and took her hands—those hands that had plaited cassava-tendril hair, had wiped tears on a veranda, had shelved hundreds of books.

“Then let me be one of those beholders,” he said. “Because I have already seen you. And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever tried to paint.”

Adanna did not cry. Not that time. Instead, she felt the cold pebble in her chest crack, and from the crack, something green—like a new mango shoot—began to grow.

That evening, she stood in front of her small bedroom mirror, not the window this time, but her actual reflection. She looked at the strong jaw. The deep-set eyes. The gap between her teeth.

She did not see a friend yet. But she saw someone worth getting to know.

And for the first time, she whispered to herself, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

Outside, the Owerri rain began to fall—not a weeping rain, but a joyful one. The sowing with tears was over. The song of joy had begun.

Some of us are like Adanna, we don’t think we are beautiful.

And that is far from the truth, God has made each and everyone of us so unique and different from one another.

So just because you don’t fit into the criteria of someone’s on definition of beauty doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful.

I’ll stop here for today, but I want to leave you with a few questions to brood on.

Who does God say you are?

Who’s criteria are you using to measure your beauty?

Who are the people in your circle?

What does the word of God say about you?

Remember, I love you but Jesus loves you moreeee.😗❤️

~Diary of Her❤️

He had just left a company after an interview on a sunny afternoon and he stood in the parking lot certain he wouldn’t be called back, David screamed in frustration “God! Why me?” He was fed up.

Over time he gave up, he stopped praying and stopped looking for work, believing that God was out to get him for his past sins.

Until one day, he sat in his room thinking, rent was due the next week and he had nothing to his name.

He looked at his desk, admist all the documents and papers say his Bible, dust had covered it.

He finally picked it up and began to read, it didn’t take long before David began smiling again. It didn’t take long before David began speaking in tongues after that.

He finally remembered who he was.

LIGHT.

~~~~~~~~~

Some of us are like David, swayed by circumstances or perturbed by situations going on in the world today or our lives.

But we are forgetting one thing, WE ARE THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.

You shouldn’t be worried about anything, there’s an advantage you—as a Child of God— have called the Holy Ghost advantage therefore nothing, I repeat NOTHING should make you sad or upset.

You have to come to terms with the fact that the word of God isn’t just mere words, it’s life. And that life is light.

That life dwells in you today.

Dear Child of God, shine your light, so that men can glorify God.

Darkness cannot dwell in your world when you—The light of the world—is there.

You are light, walk in that consciousness.

I mean, what use is light if it doesn’t know it is light?

That’s all for now, I love you but Jesus loves you moreee.😗

~Diary of Her❤️

But on the 22nd of April? That’s odd. And weird.

Welp, thank God I’m weird.😗

Hii guysss.

I’m backkkk!🤭✨

The month of February was truly a beautiful month for me.

Not because I have a man that would send me valentine’s gifts or anything (maybe I do).😌🤭

But because at the beginning of this month I made a choice to love ME intentionally. Not that I don’t love myself—I really do. I was just going to be really intentional in February.

I bought myself something at the beginning of the month for doing so great in January, then I got myself gifts for valentine’s and I wrote myself a letter too.🤭❤️

And being the great lady that I am, I got some of my friends gifts and wrote letters to them too.🤭

Because, although I said I was going to be intentional with myself, I decided to be intentional about my friends too.

Because they really deserve it…

Maybe another day I’ll talk about my friends and how God has blessed with wonderful people.🥹❤️

So Yeahh, for some I made valentines gift packages with personally written letters and to others I just gave them letters.

And they were soooo happy.🥹❤️

My mum took me on a date that day and I was so happyyy, I spoke to my siblings and chatted a bit with my grandma.

My friends barely wished me and some didn’t remember or even acknowledged my letter.

At first I was immune to it until I checked and I noticed a certain someone didn’t text me…or send a gift. Just silence.

It was a normal thing to wish ourselves and get gifts for each other since we are both single peppers.

I called. No response. I was getting scared so I called a mutual friend. When I confirmed that he was fine, I got angry.

In my friend’s words “Arin fin le le yi naw” (this is see finish naw)

I send a message and sent a picture of his gift. Only for him to react with “👍🏾”

I was so sad I went to bed early.

My other friend called in the morning and she cheered me up but she also verbally slapped me.

Why?

Because I got so busy writing letters to others that I forgot about the ones written to me and for me.

She asked me when last I read my Bible or prayed and I couldn’t remember.

And she said “na because you don see God finish bah? Eternity don Dey here finish oo, sister. He no go force anybody.”

Immediacy she dropped the call like this, I carried my Bible with immediate effect. I left man (my friend oo) and touched God.😭

Because, how could I forget the One who has been intentional about me before my birth? The one who counted every strand on my head? Ahh…no oo.

This is also a reminder that, no matter how far you think you’ve gone. You can still come back because the moment I ran back I met His arms wide open.

His Word says His mercies are new every morning and believe me, it’s definitely true.❤️

Anywayyy, February and March went great and April is sooo beautiful already.

I can’t wait to send my next post! (I can😭)

I love you all but Jesus loves you moreee.

Ps: Set your priorities right (and leave man and touch God😭).

Then suddenly I had a stomach ache and couldn’t go out on time that day, I didn’t cancel my appointment with my friend though I just figured I’d explain to her when I saw her.

I eventually went out in the evening and went to get somethings, at that time I kept thinking about my friend that I had bailed on, so I decided to call her.

If you know me well, you’d know I’m a HUGE procrastinator. And that’s what I did. I procrastinated till it was late in the evening, that’s when I suddenly remembered and I went online.

I quickly checked another friend of mine’s post and saw her picture. I was confused, I didn’t understand what was going on.

I clicked to the second post and it was someone else, I clicked again another person.

I thought maybe my friend was posting them for posting sake.

I shrugged and moved to the next person’s status, promising myself that after that person’s post I’d call her.

The next person’s post was a picture of the three people I saw earlier, the caption read: “it is well🕊️🤍”

The fear and dread that consumed me that night, was nothing like I’d ever experienced before.

I called our friend, hoping it wasn’t true and that those three went dead, especially not her. We had just made up a few days prior.

I begged him to tell me it was a lie or a joke. But it wasn’t.

I remember looking at her picture, listening to my friend tell me about the accident, as he tried to comfort me and himself…we had both lost three important people.

After a while, I remember suddenly feeling cold then numb…I accepted that she was gone.

I tried to push her death out of my mind, I forced myself to think like as if I didn’t know her.

I couldn’t sleep, and once it was morning, I began calling our friends that I knew wouldn’t know. I don’t know if they ever grieved her properly but I delivered the message and softly as I could…one of our friends who attended the same university with didn’t even know but was confused when his friends kept checking up on him.

A few old mates sent me messages asking if I knew, I replied half heartedly and continued with my day.

I was sad, destabilized but I didn’t know what to do.

Growing up, I’ve experienced the death of a lot of people and I never knew what to do with it, especially because after the loss of someone we usually stop speaking about the person and force our brains to move on.

But this time, no matter how much I smiled I couldn’t get her out of my mind, I could see and hear her. I’d sit and suddenly remember how beautiful her voice was or how we always went home together, how we talked about everything and nothing at the same time and how we still had the biggest fight I had ever had in my life.

There are so many things I wish I could have done, so many things I could handled better.

I know she’s in a great place but I still needed her, I just didn’t realize how much till she was gone.

I eventually prayed about it and a particular scripture has helped me so far: Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of His saints (Psalm 116:15).

This scripture made me understand that although she wasn’t with me anymore, she was still cherished especially by the most important being—God.

I still cry myself to sleep sometimes but it gets easier to breathe now.

I don’t know how to deal with grief but God sure did help me out on this one.

Until later peeps!😗❤️

Love,

Temitope.✨

Tobiloba fell in love.

And it’s not something she does. Ever.

He was her dad’s business partner’s son.

Adekunle was twenty and she was fourteen but he understood her.

It started when he’d returned from the states for the burial of his mum. The after party after the burial was at his house. Tobi had lost her way when she tried to find the toilet.

She’d ended up in his mum’s room where he had been sleeping, she wanted to leave quietly when she’d heard muffled tears.

She found her way beside him, he’d been startled and quickly wiped at his tears, he was about to question her and threaten her to never mention ever seeing him. But she spoke first.

“Crying is not a crime. You can cry, I won’t tell anyone. I’m just going to sit here quietly.”

He said nothing. But the tears flowed. And she sat beside him, in silence. No words of comfort, nothing.

She didn’t know, but her presence brought enough comfort.

After that day, they saw often. He was working in the company now and he’d moved next door.

One night, they’d snuck away from their family’s weekly business dinner, as it had always been and spoke till the moon shone on both of them.

“I’m beginning to feel something for you, Tobi” he said.

“I know, our families are basically intertwined but I love you…more than a sister.” He confessed.

Tobi was shocked, her heart raced and her fingers suddenly turned clammy.

“You don’t have to give me an answer now, but I want us to be together.”

Kunle left after that.

And Tobi noticed him more after that. The smell of his cologne announced his presence before his baritone voice did.

She saw him in a new light, and slowly…the hard girl named Oluwatobiloba fell in love.

A few weeks later, he cornered her in the lobby.

“Stop avoiding me.” He said gruffly.

She grinned, “okay” she replied before pecking his cheek.

“Back of the park tomorrow, let’s set some rules.” He said, smiling as he walked away.

The next day, the rules he set, no inappropriate comments and behavior, no flirting, no slacking off and blaming it on relationship, prayer sessions every day, walks every week and good communication. No lust, no demands just pure love…Godly love.

Tobi’s life improved, she was happier, her life was going great, her family members were fine, academics was going great, her relationship with God was better than before and she was lucky to get the man of her dreams at this early age.

What more could she ask for?

Except…

Her friends in school had told her certain things she was supposed to be doing with her man…

“Maybe he’s not interested, Tobi” One of them would say.

“Or maybe he’s a player.” The other would add.

Tobi couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Why wouldn’t he do anything with her?

Even down to something as minute as kissing.

“He must be cheating.” She concluded.

“Who was I kidding when an adult fell in love with a child?”

“Of course, he’s just playing with my feelings.”

“Of course.”

It started small but she started missing the prayer meetings, she made excuses to skip the walks.

And one day, he confronted her.

Tobiloba snapped.

Songs of Solomon 8:4- “…do not awaken love until it pleases.”

The argument was the biggest they’ve ever had.

She couldn’t trust him and he was confused.

Hurtful words were said, fingers were pointed. After a few minutes, it was clear. They both knew what they had to do.

“Let’s break up” she’d said, eyes brimmed with tears.

Kunle looked and felt like he’d been punched in the gut but he agreed.

“It’s for the best.” He said, nodding after a few minutes.

They both stared at each other, eyes filled with unspoken words and tears of misery.

“I’m sorry things had to end this way, I hope you become better and I do too and we both find the one. I wish you well in life, Tobiloba.” He said, pecking her forehead.

He turned to leave, as he walked away, he walked away with the largest piece of her heart.

She didn’t know why then but she knew now, Kunle was the one for her, but she met him at the wrong time and had lost him.

Because she believed that no man could love her the way Adekunle did.

Thanks for reading!

I was supposed to post this on Valentine’s Day but I forgot.😭❤️

So happy post-valentine’s day? 🥹😂

I finally got the hang of adding songs to my post, although I don’t think it’s the right song but yeah, I hope you like it! ✨

“Hello, remember me?” My reflection whispered.

I remember it like it was yesterday…

I had just resumed university, I had the chubbiest cheeks and I looked like a baby. I liked the way I looked, in fact I loved it, I was beautiful, bold and audacious.

I knew who I was and nobody could talk down on me…

Or so I thought.

We were having a course called COS 101, and the lecturer had taken longer than expected but he still asked us if we understood and if we had any questions.

And I raised my hand and asked a question, which I eventually saw in my tests and exams.

No one said anything to me as the man explained the question, everywhere was dead silent and I was paying attention to the lecturer.

Until, I heard giggles beside me, I looked and saw a slender girl, probably a little bit older than I was, and as I suspected, she was laughing.

She noticed that I was staring at her, the lecturer’s voice turned into background noise at this point. Her eyes held a mischievous glint.

“They’re talking about you on the group chat” she said. I tensed, wondering what I had done that caused that.

“C-can I see?” I asked her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes before showing me, and God was I terrified.

I was being insulted for asking a question in class, from there, some people began to insult me for my body size, and everyone was just laughing on the group.

They made fun of my dressing, the way I sat, the way I looked and how I repulsed them.

A few minutes after reading the girl snatched her phone from my hand muttering that “boys will be boys.”

The funniest thing was that it wasn’t just boys, girls were talking and laughing too.

I had seen a familiar number, and it turned out to be my friend.

I ignored the sickening feeling I felt, and just kept on going with my day like it was nothing.

The moment the clock stroke 1pm, I bolted for the confines of my room. I couldn’t bear the looks any longer.

For days, I couldn’t attend classes or walk alone because when I did, I felt bare, unguarded, unsafe.

Because if my “friend” could laugh along with them, then maybe I was all they said I was.

So I started again…

I’d barely eat for days and I’ll claim I was “fasting.” I knew within me that I wasn’t and my roommates said nothing but they knew.

I kept this up till I developed ulcer and I didn’t stop starving until I felt the pain in my lower back and I couldn’t stand properly.

The day I had to be rushed to the clinic was the day my roommate snapped.

She looked at me and said “Debby you can’t keep this up, what if you die from this? I’m reporting this to your brother.”

I ignored her and slept…if only I knew she meant my school brother and my younger brother.

I was on a call with my school brother and she just chipped it in. I’m pretty sure, he wanted to believe he’d misheard but he didn’t.

He didn’t speak with me again that night, and I was devastated and angry.

So I called my younger brother and she did the same thing.

He didn’t react, he just sighed tiredly and said we will discuss at home.

Mind you, this boy is my YOUNGER brother, but the fear I felt. I was so scared, because I didn’t know what to expect. I respected my brother so much, so it felt like I was the black sheep, the one that was always disappointing him instead of being the one he looked up to.

A few days later, my school brother spoke with me and prayed with me about it, he didn’t ask for details but he encouraged me not give in to the devil and he’d ask daily if I had eaten or tell someone to check up on me.

I hated it at first, but eventually I began eating again but I still thought to myself that the moment I get home, I’ll resume my habit.

So when I got home, I was shocked to see that my brother still remembered what had happened.

He sat me down and handed me a plate of rice and chicken, he had cooked it specifically for me.

“Eat.” He said, I was angry but I ate and he watched me till I ate everything.

After I ate, he sat down with me and we spoke. I could tell he was livid, but he spoke softly to me.

“I knew when you used to starve yourself, we didn’t talk all the time, but I had an inkling. That’s why I wasn’t surprised” He said. I remember saying nothing and just giving him an awkward smile before standing up to leave.

“I’m not done.” He said, I reluctantly sat down.

“I thought you were over this. I thought you had finally started seeing yourself through God’s eyes, what happened?” He asked. I didn’t say anything but I was trying to stop my tears from falling.

“You know, I was body shamed too, but you gave me the motivation to keep going. You told me to ignore those who call me skinny if it’s not you, and I should report them to you so you could beat them up.” He said, a bitter smile surfacing.

“Did you think it was easy for me to ignore them? Or to accept you calling me skinny?” He asked, and this time I tried saying something.

I really wanted to salvage the situation, but I couldn’t speak because I was crying.

“I only did it because my big sister encouraged me, and even after that the Holy Spirit came and helped me, comforted me when you weren’t there. The Holy Spirit helped me in more ways than you can imagine.” He said, standing up to comfort me.

“The Holy Spirit is and will always be here to comfort you, so let Him.” He said finally, and after my tears stopped falling, he left to do his quiet time.

I was devastated because no one should be body shamed but I did just that, I had indirectly body shamed my brother, just the same way others did to me.

As I was crying, a new realization flooded me that day.

“God is with me.”

I shouldn’t have to go through this again and alone.

So I prayed, I spoke with Him because that’s the only person I could go to.

The one who made me, knew me and loved me, just the way I was.

That day relief flooded my being and I was finally comforted. I could look at myself in the mirror again, and I was so happy.

So when I went back to school, even though some days were harder to go through than others, i’d still try my best to eat and even when I don’t, I was comforted and encouraged by the Holy Spirit.

I’d say “Holy spirit I didn’t eat today, I felt bad about it and my friends got angry when they found out.”

And He’d respond with “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s try again tomorrow.”

Because whether I liked it or not, He was here with me in every situation, and He’d never leave, He’s here to stay and He loves me and always wants the best for me.

Thank you for reading, kindly like, share, restack and comment!

Bye for now,

I love you but Jesus loves you more!

Growing up as the first daughter (first child), was quite difficult for me.

Although, people—I usually call them my siblings for better reference—came around and stayed for years, I always assumed the role of an older sibling, regardless of how old they were.

I don’t know why it was always like that, and I might talk about this later.

My siblings were on the chubby side while growing up, but I was on the slim side. And my brothers would stylishly pick on me, and say I had no weight. So I ate more. I was always eating junks or drinks or food, something was always in my mouth. I’d eat more than my brothers just to show them that I had weight. Until it started showing, i had bigger tummy and a larger appetite and I couldn’t sleep much anymore because I loved sleeping on my tummy.

These same siblings of mine—the girls this time. Complained terribly of my eating habits, they were growing older and lost 90% of their weight, my brothers too put it to good use, some lost theirs and the others built some muscle with it. So I was the only one left…the one without the portfolio, the one who didn’t get the memo of “add now, lose later.”

And for some reason, I didn’t see anything particularly wrong with my size… until the comments came.

“Orobo”

“Biggie”

“Six bags of cement”

“Elephant”

“Times ten”

Some by family and the others from school, it was basically passive bullying at that point.

Because boys would pass me and look at me in disgust, and the girls(some called themselves my friends), would stare and laugh at me. Mocking my appearance.

I hated myself a lot.

I couldn’t stare at myself in the mirror, because I was repulsed by who I saw.

I hated my face, my body. I just hated me.

I craved to be like the other people I saw around.

So I starved. I went on “diets.”

I’d go days without eating and then when I ate…I ate excessively and I’ll feel guilty for being full so I’d wait till I got to my room and I’ll force my hands into my mouth and vomit it.

Even with all I did, I didn’t see the changes. I’d stare at myself in the mirror for hours wondering if the folds of fat had reduced.

Everyday, I’d pray that the folds reduced from four to one. But it didn’t.

So I stopped looking at the mirror, the thought of seeing my own body nauseated me.

So i continued, I’d eat in front of my friends and family and go to the restroom to empty my bowels.

Until my body started screaming for help.

I became paler, I forgot things, I forgot people, I’d suddenly feel extremely cold or hot and I kept having tremors.

The funny thing is, my parents saw the weight loss and were elated. I was finally losing the “baby fat.”

I was delighted as well, I was finally going to have the perfect body.

But one day, on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, I entered my class from the back door.

Where the boys usually sat.

I had tripped on my crush’s leg, that was CONVENIENTLY there. And they all bursted into laughter.

Especially him.

I remember him saying “third mainland bridge has fallen down.”

I laughed with, stood up and dusted my skirt.

But something broke within me that day, and I never remained the same.

What I did was never enough. It would never be.

So I started again. It was more intense.

Until the day I failed my exams…

I had just received my report card, but I already knew what was inside.

My results burned my hands like hot coals, as I stood in the presence of my parents and my little brother.

They yelled and compared me to my sibling, it was at that moment I decided to end it all.

On the day I was supposed to jump, I forgot to write the suicide letter.

I let the day pass and planned a different day, but no matter how much I planned it always ended up futile.

I got frustrated and decided to wait it was the perfect time…the perfect time never came because i found Jesus.

I remember sitting in my room crying, and for the first time in seven years (at that time), I opened my mouth and finally cried out to God.

I didn’t say much, but I knew I asked for help and that’s exactly what He did.

I slept feeling lighter than I had in years, that night.

In the morning, I woke up and I picked up a comic my mum had just bought for me and I paused for a few minutes because the title shocked me.

“I AM BEAUTIFUL” was written boldly on the cover of the book.

I smiled because a few minutes after that, the Holy Spirit said “I formed you in your mother’s womb, and I did not make a mistake by creating you this way. Trust me.”

And slowly I began to understand, it took me a couple years to fully understand but I still did.

I had put myself through pain because I tried to shape myself into being someone else.

I had also taken Beauty as pain.

I had thought that if I was to be beautiful or loved by anyone, I had to go through pain and make myself unhealthily slimmer.

Which couldn’t be anymore wrong, beauty isn’t pain and never will.

No one should have to go through pain to be beautiful.

I am loved my God in any shape or form.

My tummy isn’t too big, nor are my arms too flabby, my thighs aren’t too think and my cheeks aren’t too full.

I am unique in every way and if by any chance I lose weight, it’s because I want to do so, it’s because I want to do it FOR ME or I want to keep fit, not because I want to blend in or fit in. Like everyone else.

God loving me is enough.

And Him living you is enough too, start seeing yourself how He sees you, because no one can love you the He does.❤️

That’s all for now. I love you but Jesus loves you more!❤️

She said “sorry na, you know there's beauty in pain.”

In my mind, I was like “iwo ati tani?” (you and who?)

I thought we've left those lies turned beliefs in 2020?

But as I continued walking to my room, I realised something.

I had complied to this same ideology a month ago, when I made my hair.

I had loc’d my hair since December but due to people saying I looked mad and my mum's disapproval, I had to find a way to cover it up—hide the shame.

So in January, I made twists on my locs. Immediately AFTER I reloc’d it.

Growing up, I wasn't like those children that cry when making their hair, just give me something to play with, read, eat or watch and I'll be fine.

In fact, kiko used to be one of my favourite hairstyles because I won't feel the pain others did.

Maybe it was because my hair was soft, or the products or my mum and hairdresser giving it the right dose of love… but I never cried, I always mostly slept through my hair appointment.

So, if you see the shock I felt when I felt like my scalp was on fire.

I cried ehn…

A aged woman passed and she said “omo oge, don't you know that there's beauty in pain? Small time now, you will start shaking your braids” (omo oge=fine girl)

And she walked away. Because I said nothing.

I couldn't sit still at all. The whole process was excruciating.

Why did I do it? Because I wanted to look like a “omo luabi” (a good child)

Everyone liked my hair (when it was neat), but I hated it—still do.

Some still complained that it wasn't looking nice, and I started to feel insecure about my hair.

MY HAIR.

The same one that I cherished no matter what, the same one I had attended online classes on how to care for it.

That hair became the hair I abandoned, uncared for, unmoisturized.

All because I fell for the ideology that there was beauty in pain and that my natural hair (locs) is rough and makes me look unkempt.

As I'm writing this, I realise how some of us have left our relationship with God unattended, like I did with my hair.

If you're that person, please go back to Him. A relationship takes two people, who communicate and have knowledge about each other.

And yes, He loves you, a lot more than you think. Trust me, it's not too late.

As for the “beauty is pain” aspect, I don't know about you, but it's high time, that is put to an end.

Your natural hair is your crown and you can wear it however way you want it. There IS beauty without pain. That's all I'll say for now.

Thanks for sticking till the end. I love you but Jesus loves you more

Hii guyysss!

I’ve been so busy (procrastinating), with school that I’ve not been active here.

Anyway, happy new year guyss!

I’ve decided (God decided for me actually), that it’s high time I stopped this procrastination game of mine. It’s high time I become serious with my life and start bearing fruits(start doing what God has called me to do).

Sooo yeah, this 2026, my major goals for the year is the race for the last man(I want rapture to happen sooo bad😔), letting God take the lead, anddd being consistent here.

Ouu! And taking my life seriously.😭

This year my friends shouldn’t have to remind me to eat all the time. 😪

Sooo yeah, if you’re like me and that’s what you want to do this year or it’s a part of what you want to do or you want to watch this transformation…stick around. Okayy?

I love y’all but Jesus loves you more!

Stay blessed,

Temi (yes, that’s one of my numerous names)🤭

I know you’re wondering where I’ve been…I’ve been in a book cave! (Not literally).😅 But yes, I’ve been so busy with reading that I’d nearly forgotten about this post.😩

So let’s get into it, shall we? 😅

I was at the office a few weeks ago, and we were watching a particular series, one that I knew by heart.

I’ve watched that series at least four times this year.

You might be wondering…where did I find the time? I don’t even know oo.😂

As I was saying, I knew all the lines in the movie, especially the episodes with songs in them.

My colleague saw me singing the songs and she asked me, “How do you know the movie so well? You even know the songs”

And I smiled, proudly. (With my 32😭).

I was about to respond about it being my comfort movie when I was cautioned by the Holyspirit. (Holyspirit will caution you when you least expect it.😩)

He said, “comfort movie? When I’m your comforter?”

And it dawned on me.

I’d been seeking comfort in a movie(this movie wasn’t Christ based).

I was subconsciously relying on the movie to make me feel better, to give me some assurance that things are going to get better.

And I know I’m not the only one, some of us have sought comfort in the wrong places; songs, books, music, people and even food too.

When the Holyspirit and the Bible should be the first place we seek comfort. Because no one can comfort you better than the Holyspirit, no one knows you better than He does.

As a Child of God, the first and only place you seek comfort in should be in His Word.

Yes, we can have songs, movies, books that lightens our mood, (it’ll be great if they’re Christ-based), but that shouldn’t be what we depend or rely on.

Back to our story,

After the Holyspirit spoke to me, I smiled and told my colleague that it used to be my comfort movie, she was confused, but I ended up explaining to her, after I prayed and I felt lighter than I ever had after watching that movie.

So yeah, let the Holyspirit do His work and be your comforter, trust Him to help you.🥹

That’s all for now.❤️✨

I love you, but Jesus loves you more.❤️✨

Go to church and enjoy today’s service.🥹❤️

Hi guyss, so I’m new here, kinda.😅

Welcome to my spaceeee.😗

People have been asking, “when will you open that Substack?” Well, guess what? I final did!😂

Opening a Substack account feels like the time I decided to give my life to Jesus-not like I even had a life to live outside of Jesus.😅😂

Mind you, I was already aware of who Jesus was, I mean I grew up in a Christian home. The first daughter of two pastors so yeah and of course my mum dressed me up as her “mini-me” every Sunday. 😂❤️

But that doesn’t mean I gave my life to Christ on time, I was a rebel. I was a stereotypical bad pastor’s kid-if there’s anything like that. 😅😅

I committed all kinds of atrocities, any issue in church from the children’s department? Na there I Dey. Fighting in school? Na my thriving space be that.

My parents? They talked, yelled, punished and beat me sef. There’s nothing they didn’t do to try to make me behave, but I didn’t budge.

So they stopped, the only thing they said was “wear that short skirt, kiss that boy, but just know that every act you do won’t save you on that day, you will stand before God and our salvation cannot save you.” I didn’t let it show but it stuck to me like glue.

I didn’t change immediately, no, it happened over time, I realized I couldn’t live without God and finally let Jesus help me.

You want to know how?

Well, you have to stick around for that.😗🤭

I love you but Jesus loves you moree,

Signed, Diary of a Christian teenage girl. ❤️✨

Ps: kindly like, share and follow! Love youuu.😗❤️