quinze

nobody is coming with the gold star ⭐️

i started journaling again, i also created a whole ecosystem for myself (different books for my different needs), and today the prompt asked me what I was proud of, even something small.

i sat with it for a moment, because my instinct, as always, was to reach for the big things first. the finished project, like the coachella campaign i worked on for work. the milestone, like sending in complete social media calendars in time. the things that would be easy to explain to someone else and have them nod in recognition. but that’s not really what the question was asking. it was asking for the small things. the ones you almost don’t count.

so here’s what i came up with.

in march, i left the house.

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i think i know how this sounds. but if you work from home, really work from home, where your bedroom and your office and your kitchen all start to blur into one continuous room, then you’ll know that leaving the house is not always a given. it stops being a default (some might argue skill issue, but i think it is more than this). some days it stops being a desire entirely; it stops being a necessity.

for me, this has been one of the little downsides of working from home. i don’t feel the pull. i don’t feel the need. everything I require is here, and here is comfortable, and comfortable starts to feel like enough, like sufficiency, until, eventually, it just starts to feel like less.

so this year, i made a deliberate decision (which i am not even fulfilling up to 50%). i was going to make a conscious effort. little steps. get out (not like the movie). show up somewhere that wasn’t my flat (so far it has been mostly to lulu’s home cafe, my sister’s house, and nowhere else).

march 21st, that somewhere was Thompson 23 in Ikoyi, where my wife lulu was hosting a journaling club. I went. I sat. I journaled. I tried out the café.

and i’m proud of that. i’m letting myself be proud of that.

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café hopping has always been on my list of hobbies, one of those intentions i wrote down in January to try to do more of. not just for the coffee, though absolutely also the coffee. but for the act of going somewhere new, sitting in a different light, watching how a room moves, how people hold themselves in a space designed for slowness, and getting work done as a bonus.

alongside café hopping i have moulding with air clay, candle making, painting, making jars with gypsum. visiting art galleries. showing up for things with my hands, my eyes, my full attention.

these aren’t grand ambitions. but they are mine. and this year, I am treating them accordingly.

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there’s more on the pride list, because apparently, so far i’m doing the whole thing.

we have the dirty chai cake, a cake i made with homemade spice mix and a shot of espresso (you’ll hear more about it in my upcoming letters), a cake my girls loved, a cake that had a minor setback and turned out beautiful anyway. i’m proud of that. i’m proud of the confidence it took to tweak my original recipe to fit this, to add the espresso and trust that it would work, to frost it with whipped cream and salted caramel, and bring it to people i love.

and then there’s the bigger one, this one is harder to write but needs to go on the page.

these past weeks have been heavy. more with life than work (for some reason, work isn’t hectic for me). it is the kind of weight that makes ordinary things feel like they require more than they should. i’ve been carrying it. and i have - i want to say this clearly - i have navigated it with so much grace and awareness. more than i expected of myself. more than i would have given myself credit for without this page to write about it.

i’m also proud of finally coming to terms with my body. it’s been weeks of stepping out of my comfort zone in ways that really felt significant, even when they looked very small from the outside. and i’m proud of that too.

i’m proud of reading and posting consistently. for building something in the background while the foreground was asking a lot of me.

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i do this thing at the end of my journal entries where i sign them “Love, Chiamaka.” to myself, from myself. sometimes i add stickers to it, little ones that say things like KEEP IT UP, GOOD JOB, and SUPER STAR. it sounds silly written out like that (i’m also letting go of the shame that i feel when i love my hobbies a little too much or do things that make me feel a little silly).

but I’ve come to understand that nobody is coming to hand them (those stickers) to you. nobody is standing at the finish line of your ordinary wednesday with a gold star for leaving the house, for making the cake, for getting through the heavy weeks with your grace intact. the world is not set up to notice those things, let alone celebrate them.

so you have to do it yourself.

you have to be the one who writes it down. who says: i was here (just like Beyoncé sang), and i did this, and it mattered, and i’m proud of it, yes, even the small part, especially the small part.

you’ve done so well.

for today's recipe, i’ve been obsessed with cold brews, so here’s a little tutorial on how to make one.

till my next newsletter, may your small wins be counted, your heavy weeks a little lighter, and your gold star already in your own hands.

Daalụ 💕