Heyyyyy Y’all!

How are we? I feel like we haven’t properly caught up in a while. I miss you guys. Please talk back to me before I decide I’m writing into the void and run away. 😂

Is it still summer where you are? Technically, summer doesn’t end until… tomorrow. lol a Monday at that. Although mentally, once the children went back to school, I packed it up.

It has been a very busy summer over here. If I had to summarize it, I would say it was a combination of work and play. I’m grateful for all of it, and I’m also looking forward to a slower couple of months. (I hope.)

Now your turn. What shows are we watching? What are we doing to spark joy? And most importantly, where can we chase money nowadays? 😂 Please reply and give me the gist. I want an engaged audience, o. Otherwise, again, I will run away.

One of my favorite movies of all time is Legally Blonde. This should surprise absolutely nobody. In fact, I think I’ll rewatch tonight. I need a little rewiring.

If you’ve watched Legally Blonde enough, you remember the salon scene where Elle teaches her friend Paulette the “bend and snap.” Lol please don’t judge me… these are the things I think about okay?

Anyway, the bend and snap has been on my mind all week…

You guys already know I am a strong believer in a second, third, fourth, one-hundredth act. I believe in pivoting. I believe in changing your mind. I believe in putting something down and picking it back up again. All. of. it.

It’s why I keep shouting online about leaning into the change, coming to the front, standing on current business. lol 😂 You are who you are and you need to let it ROAR. okay?!

I don’t think we are supposed to decide who we are at 25 or 35 or even 40 and then spend the rest of our lives forcing ourselves to be bound by that decision. Things change. What you want changes. Even your idea of your most perfect and content self will keep moving, because you will keep moving too.

September is a funny time to be thinking about this because mentally it feels like when people give up and mark the year as finished for new beginnings. But not meeeeee lol (and I think I’ve even said it on this space), September tends to feel like my own new year.

Maybe it’s the stubborn goat in me BUT no one gets to say it’s over but me (well, God, but in this context and for the purposes of my damn point… me.)

There are still more than three months left in this year. And even if there weren’t, since when did December 31 become the deadline for becoming yourself?

I have had businesses that made sense until they didn’t. I have walked away from things and later found my way back to some version of them. Even now, at 40, there are parts of myself I am meeting properly for the first time, and parts I knew years ago and somehow lost in all the adulting.

This is normal to me now. Or at least I am trying to let it be normal, because sometimes I still want the satisfaction of saying, “OKAY! This is it. I have finally arrived… I have figured myself out.” Then two business days later, another version enters the chat hehe.

One thing about this life? it will bend you. Maybe a plan does not work OR a waiting season lasts much longer than you expected. You look up and realize you are not where you thought you would be (case in point: my Back to One newsletter)…

A bend.

But see ehn, I know a lot of times I rant and wail to you here and it may seem like I stay in the sunken place but honestly y’all, I don’t. lol. I always just need to get it out first.

Anyway, back to my point… When Elle was teaching my girl Paulette how to trap her lil postman, she said Paulette needed to learn the bendddddd and SNAP. Ain’t no winning without the snap!!!

This has been especially on my mind because I am currently on Day 20 of Come to the Front, a 30-day visibility and accountability challenge I am running.

Every day I watch people snap back, and it is exhilarating.

Maybe it is coming back after you missed a week instead of deciding you failed the whole thing. Or it is finally sending the email you talked yourself out of 50-eleven times. Either way, you have decided not to take yourself out.

And of course, this is bigger than a challenge.

A lot of us are going through some SHITTY things. Or we have gone through them and are still trying to find our way back. Life will have you believing you are supposed to stay in the sunken place. Down. And out.

But you see ehn???

Life has us f’d up.

We ain’t got no problem being down. Our issue is being out. As long as we are still here, WE can get back in.

We may bend and stay down longer than we planned. But I know you. Yes, you reading this right now.

You are going to snap back.

You are.

You will.

P.S. Speaking of coming to the front…

I have decided to run one more Come to the Front cohort this year! The October cohort begins on October 5, and the doors officially opened today. If you have been watching this first group and thinking, “Wait, I want in,” you can sign up to join us here.

Have a great week!

KO

Thank you to all the sweet souls who messaged me and sent a word of encouragement after last week’s KOnfessional. I was really DEEP in my feelings.

In fact, two of my cuzbaes basically sent KOnfessionals themselves LOL. And I appreciated every word.

There is something about being honest and having people meet you there. Sometimes with encouragement, sometimes just with a “me too” that reminds you that perhaps you are not as uniquely crazy as you thought you were.

Community is so important…. and I think that’s what I want to dig a little deeper into today. The gift of community.

It is much more than it seems, and somehow also simpler than it looks.

I think sometimes when we hear “community,” we imagine something formal. A group chat, a membership, some defined circle of people who have agreed that this is what they are to each other.

And yes, it can be that.

but community is also the friend who remembers you had something hard this week and checks in. It is having people who know enough of your story that you don’t have to explain the whole thing every single time.

It is people who witness your life.

Yup that’s it.. your life’s witnesses…

Not just having people around you, but being known by them.

Having people who remember who you were before whatever version of yourself you are currently trying to become. People who understand why something that might seem small to everyone else is a very big deal to you. People who can remind you of yourself when your own view gets a little blurry.

The older I get, the more precious that feels.

Because life gets very individual very quickly. We are building careers and raising families, trying to make money and figure ourselves out, and somewhere in all of that it becomes very easy to start carrying everything like it is ours alone to carry.

AND community doesn’t necessarily fix any of it.

Nobody can make the decision for you or do the hard thing on your behalf. Whatever is yours to walk through is still yours to walk through.

BUT somehow, having people beside you changes the weight of it.

I felt that this week.

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Nothing about my life materially changed because people sent me beautiful messages after last week’s KOnfessional. I still woke up with the same questions I had when I wrote it.

But I felt loved. I felt held.

And I know that sounds ridiculously simple, but I don’t think it is.

I have spent a lot of my life thinking strength meant being able to handle things myself. Being the capable one who figures it out.

But please… there is strength in allowing yourself to be held too. In letting people show up for you without immediately trying to assure them that you are fine, and allowing yourself to need people without turning that need into some indictment of how well you are doing at life.

ALSO I need to recognize that sometimes community is one of the ways God takes care of me.

I don’t know why that feels like such a revelation when community is all over the Bible. We are quite literally not supposed to do any of this alone. And yet I think somewhere along the way, some of us started treating needing people like something we were supposed to grow out of.

We aren’t.

That’s the gift of community.

It doesn’t mean somebody else carries your life for you. It means you don’t have to experience all of it alone.

And this week reminded me how grateful I am for that.

So that’s really all I wanted to say today.

Thank you guys for showing up in my comments. Thanks for checking in and thanks for being part of my community.

xoxo,

Kunbi

Happy Sunday! Y’all. I don’t really have a well-packaged KOnfessional for you today. So instead, I’m just going to recreate something I wrote in my journal this week instead of waiting to have something clean and clear. Sorry in advance.

I really should have figured it out by now.

I really should have.

I’m forty years old, and somehow I have never felt more like a teenager in my life.

I keep thinking that by now there should be some settled version of me. A version who understands money. Who understands career. Who has figured out the balance between ambition and contentment, motherhood and selfhood, work and rest, faith and fear.

A version who is not constantly circling back to the same questions.

I feel like a freaking merry-go-round.

I just keep coming back to one. I get somewhere, I think okay, this is it, and then I look up and I am standing at the starting point again.

I don’t know if other people feel like this or if it’s just me. Every day I wake up with the same damn questions:

What am I doing? What do I actually want?

Why don’t I have money?

Am I doing this right? Am I wasting my time?

Man, I don’t know.

I really thought forty would feel more certain than this.

I thought I would feel more…. settled.

Instead, I keep finding myself back in the same places. Making the same mistakes I said I would never make. Falling into the same traps. Committing the same sins. Learning lessons I could have sworn I already learned.

I feel like a hypocrite.

There are things I have looked at in other people and thought, I will never do that. Things I said I would never repeat. Ways I said I would never parent. Choices I said I would never make. Patterns I promised myself I would break.

Yet here I am- doing them all.

I really and truly thought I would be better by now.

More disciplined. More patient. More SECURE in myself. Less easily shaken. Less likely to fall into the exact hole I already climbed out of three years ago.

Yet… no.

And I think what drives me NUTS is I also have the benefit of looking like I have my shit together.

I am forty. I am married. I have children. I’ve accomplished things. People call me for advice. People send me things because they think I will know what to do with them.

Sigh.

I keep wishing I could transport myself back to when my mum was forty.

My dad died when she was forty. So maybe she is not even the forty-year-old I am looking for (Her own forty required a kind of survival that mine does not (thank God)).

But I still want to think through her “then”. I want to see the forty-year-old woman inside her.

I want to know what she was thinking. What she was afraid of. What she thought she should have figured out by then. What she had not figured out. Whether she felt grown. Whether she felt ready. Whether she had any idea what she was doing.

Maybe i’ll ask her. Because when you are a child, adults just seem like adults. “Finished people”.

You do not think about their fear or their confusion or their money or the possibility that they are making decisions with no more certainty than you are.

Except now I am forty.

And I know what forty feels like from the inside.

And I still don't feel “finished”.

I think that is what aches me. Not the fact that I don’t have the answers, I know nobody has every answer. I'ts that I genuinely thought I would have more of them by now.

I thought I would trust myself more. I thought I would trust God more. I thought I would circle the drain less. I thought the lessons would have STUCK by now.

Honestly, I thought adulthood would eventually stop feeling like improvisation.

I thought I would feel like the person people seem to think they are looking at.

And… I don’t. I just don’t.

I don’t know man.. I just want to feel settled.

Anyway, That’s what has been in my head this week.

Sorry guys, I know my KOnfessionals have been a little bit of “downers” lately and maybe that’s why I haven’t been sharing them as much. Sometimes even I read them back and think, Kunbi. Ah ah. Is everything okay at home?

I don’t tell you these things because I want anyone to feel sorry for me. My life is not an endless series of existential crises, despite my Konfessionals.

I laugh a lot. I have a lot of fun. I am surrounded by love. There is so much in my life that is good and beautiful and answered prayer.

But I suppose those aren’t usually the things I need to sit down and write my way through.

KOnfessionals have become the place where I bring the things I am still trying to understand.

Although, God willing, one of these weeks I would love to arrive here with absolutely nothing to work through. No revelation. No crisis. No “but.” Just vibes.

Until then sha, have a GREAT week. lolol

random pic- just because!

Hmm. Let me tell you about last week.

I was at my desk at home, deep in the trenches of deadlines and circle-backs when a pressure started building behind my eyes.

Not a headache. I know headaches, i get migraines all day. This was pressure, like something behind my face was slowly being inflated, and it kept climbing until I could not think.

So I did what any sane person would- I opened Google and typed “signs of a stroke.”

With one hand. Because the other hand was still finishing the email I just HAD to get out. I was scared enough to check. I was not scared enough to stop typing because in my head “Needs, MUST”.

My heart was pounding. My head felt like it was going to burst. I was squinting at symptom lists through the pressure, comparing what I was reading against what I was feeling, while my other hand kept going. Needs, MUST.

Lol what an f’n joke. Having what felt like a full medical emergency…. quietly. What exactly was the plan?

Anyway, it turned out to be stress (no surprise).

And once my heart slowed down, I could not stop asking myself one question.

How the F did I get here?

But I knew how… the root of my problem was one phrase.

“Send it to Kunbi.”

Lol

Yup. “Send it to Kunbi.”

A contract. A business problem. A text. A decision somebody has been going back and forth on for three days. Something happened at work. Something happened at home. “Can I run something by you?” “What do you think?” “Am I missing something?” “What would you do?”

Send it to Kunbi.

I know. I know how this sounds.

I’m a lawyer. A good portion of my actual job is people bringing me problems and asking me to think through them. Lol. I get it. And outside of work, people ask things of each other. That is part of being a friend, a sister, a wife, a colleague, a human being. I ask people for things too.

So this is not a KOnfessional about everybody needing to leave me alone.

I don’t want everybody to leave me alone.

I like being a sounding board. I like thinking through things. My brain naturally goes there. Tell me what happened and I immediately want to know the context, what you’re trying to accomplish, what you’ve already tried, what the other person said. Half the time you have barely finished explaining it and I am already somewhere in the weeds with you.

That has served me very well. It is a huge part of the work I do. It is also a huge part of who I am.

But I keep realizing that I am STILL very bad at one part of it.

Capacity.

Not whether I can help. Not whether I know how. Not whether I care.

Whether I actually have SPACE.

Someone asks if I can do something and my brain goes straight to: Can I figure this out?

Usually the answer is yes.

So I say yes.

I don’t stop long enough to ask the much more important question:

Kunbi, when exactly are you planning to do it?

That is how you end up saying “no worries” when there are, actually, quite a few worries.

Which brings me back to my desk.

Because when I finally calmed down long enough to think about the fact that I am googling stroke symptoms without pausing the “fire on the mountain” email I was sending, the first thing I remembered was sleep.

I realized I can count on my hands the number of times I have slept through the night in the last three years.

THREE YEARS!!

For three years, I have barely slept through the night.

That is WILD and NOT normal.

So here is my confession.

I have been a bloody liar.

Seriously.

Every time I have said “no worries” when there were worries.

Every “no problem” when there was, in fact, a pretty significant scheduling problem.

Every “I can do that” when the only reason I could do it was because I was going to take the time from somewhere else.

Sleep. My own work. My family. Something else I had already promised somebody. Me.

I kept acting as though the fact that I was technically capable of getting something done meant I had capacity for it.

Those are not the same thing.

And the person on the other end had no way of knowing that because I didn’t tell them.

Because they believed me.

Of course they did.

If you ask me whether I can get something to you on Tuesday and I say, “Absolutely, no problem,” what exactly are you supposed to do with that information other than believe me?

You don’t know that Tuesday means I’m going to be up until 2 a.m. Monday night.

You don’t know I already have five other things due.

You don’t know I stared at your email for ten minutes trying to work out where I was going to put it before replying, “Of course!”

I know all of that.

You don’t.

And if I then become stressed or irritated or overwhelmed by the thing I freely told you I could do, how exactly is that your fault?

It isn’t.

Whew, sorry I am DRAGGING myself because … stroke?!!! I was scared. I AM scared. And it’s all my fault.

And sitting with it took me somewhere I did not expect.

Because the more I turned it over, the more I realized that I was never really deceiving you.

I mean, technically, yes. You heard “no problem” and took it at face value, and the face value was false. But think about what actually happened in those ten minutes I spent staring at your email. I could see my whole week. I knew there was nowhere to put your thing. Which means that before I typed a single word to you, I first convinced myself:

I’ll find the time.

It won’t take that long.

I’ll sleep on the weekend.

I work well under pressure anyway.

The first lie was not the one I sent. It was the one I told myself. I had every piece of information, the calendar, the deadlines, the three years of bad sleep, and I still talked myself into “Of course!”

So this was never really about me deceiving my friends, or my clients, or anybody else.

I have been deceiving myself. Everybody else was just believing me.

And I think for a long time I have treated overextension like something that simply happens to me.

My schedule is crazy. Work is crazy. Everybody needs something. There are not enough hours in the day.

All of those things can be true.

But I am also the person saying yes.

And worse, I am saying yes in a way that makes the yes sound easy.

I think that is the lie I had not really confronted before.

Not always the yes itself.

The “no worries” attached to it.

Because sometimes there are going to be worries. Sometimes helping somebody is inconvenient. Sometimes being a good friend means doing something when you would rather be lying in your bed. Sometimes work is work.

I am certainly not suggesting that the second something requires effort we must all invoke our boundaries and shut down- NO. That’s not it at all.

Capacity and comfort are two different things.

There are plenty of things I have capacity for that I simply do not feel like doing.

That is part of adulthood. By all means, do those things.

I am talking about the times when I literally do not have physical, mental or emotional space and I say yes anyway.

Work is where I do this the most because “this is my job” is a very effective way to end the conversation with yourself.

And yes, it is my job (at least for now ahem).

A client should be able to rely on me to do what I have agreed to do. That matters deeply to me.

But being professional cannot mean pretending I am not a person.

If something realistically takes three days, saying I can do it tomorrow does not make me more committed.

It just means I now have to find those missing two days somewhere.

And I have been finding them at 1 a.m.

For years.

The same thing happens outside of work…

Someone asks me for something. I want to help. I know I can help. I don’t want to disappoint them. And somewhere between those thoughts, “Can I?” becomes “Yes.”

No check of the calendar.

No check of my brain.

No consideration of what I have already said yes to.

Just yes.

And PLEASEEE don’t get me wrong- my friends are DIVINE! I am ridiculously blessed in the friend department.

So, so blessed.

I have friends who show up for me. Friends who would absolutely tell me not to do the thing, not to stay up, not to squeeze them into a day that already has no room in it.

I know that.

Which makes this even more mine to own.

Because at some point, at all points really, you owe your friends the truth.

Otherwise, what kind of friendship are you actually offering them?

If the people closest to you never get the honest version of how you feel, what you think, what you have capacity for, what is too much, then they are making decisions about the friendship without all of the information.

And if the version they get is always “I’m good,” “no worries,” “of course,” “send it,” then eventually you cannot be angry that everybody believes her.

That has really sat with me.

Because I think I have sometimes confused being loving with being agreeable. Or being available. Or making sure my own inconvenience never reaches the other person.

But the cloak does not help anybody. That is what I keep landing on. When I keep everything smooth and covered, I am not protecting you. I am depriving you. Of the real information. Of the chance to show up for me the way I get to show up for you. Of me, honestly.

There has to be room in a real friendship for somebody to know when you are tired. When you cannot do it. When you disagree. When you do not have the answer. When you simply do not have it in you that day.

Otherwise they are not really getting you.

They are getting the version of you that is easiest to need.

And I don’t think that is fair to either person.

Now let me “burst your mind”…. The worst part is none of this is new information to me.

You guys know that too.

I have written about this topic more times than I can count and then gone right back to doing the exact thing I wrote about.

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This is what they say about wisdom. Knowing something is just the first step. Actually applying it is the wisdom.

You can name the pattern.

You can trace it back.

You can talk about it.

You can write a whole KOnfessional about it.

And then somebody emails you at 4:42 p.m. and you reply, “Absolutely! I’ll have that for you tonight.”

SMH.

And when I add the whole thing up, here is where I actually land.

Nobody wins.

I don’t win. I am the one googling stroke symptoms in the middle of an email.

The person I said yes to doesn’t win. They think they got easy help from somebody with space to spare, and what they actually got was help paid for out of my sleep, my family, my own work. They didn’t ask for that. I never gave them the chance to not ask for it.

The friendship doesn’t win, because it is running on partial information.

And the version of me that likes being needed, (because let’s be honest, thats what this nonsense is about), she doesn’t win either. Because what people are needing is the cloak.

Nobody wins.

So WHAT exactly have I been protecting?

Okay rant done. Sorry I had to get it out because I was truly afraid last week and I am committed to not feeling that way ever again.

It’s time to apply the wisdom. I am 40+ now after all.

So moving forward, what does that look like?

for me, right now, that means asking a different question.

Not: Can I do it?

When can I actually do it?

Do I actually have space?

And then telling the truth about the answer.

If the answer is Thursday, say Thursday.

If the answer is next week, say next week.

If the answer is no, God help me, say no.

And let the other person decide what they want to do with the truth.

Maybe Thursday does not work for them.

Fine.

Maybe a client needs somebody who can do it sooner.

Fine.

Maybe someone is disappointed.

Also fine.

I think I have spent a lot of my life trying to make sure nobody ever has a reason to be disappointed in me.

Spoiler alert: didn’t work.

It’s impossible.

So yes.

Send it to Kunbi.

I still like that.

BUT Kunbi needs to check with Kunbi before she says “no worries.”

Because there may, in fact, be quite a few worries.

🫠🫠🫠

So. I’ve been experimenting on my socials.

If you follow me over there you may have noticed. I just completed a whole yapping challenge and instead of catching my breath like a normal person, I went straight into another one (check out Launchthatish on IG). Some of it is landing. Some of it, ehn, we will not speak of it. But I’ve been trying things, publicly, and it has been so much fun. Call me Dexter!

Of course, to some, all this experimentation signals a midlife crisis lol. Once someone of a certain age starts trying new things, it’s- “Hmm.. what is she going through?“ “why is she doing so much?”

OR maybe it’s all in my own head. I am my own “Dee Dee”. Lol As much as I believe I am supposed to be so much, sometimes my inner hater leans in and whispers, Kunbi, what exactly is it you are doing? And I have to fight my damn self. Case in point: in the first draft of this very letter, I joked that all of this my midlife crisis. But I caught myself, because that is not actually what is going on here, and I of all people should not be adding to that joke. Because what exactly is the crisis? That I’m curious? That I’m playing? That I want to see what happens if?

Think about it. When a child tries something new, we call it learning. We call it play. Nobody watches a toddler stack blocks in a way that makes no sense and says hmm, she’s clearly going through something. Trying things is just what human beings do. It’s how we figure out who we are. Then somewhere along the way, we stop. Quietly. We find the things that work, and we hold on to them, and the older we get, the tighter we grip on to those things.

Because now there’s something to lose, abi? Now people are watching. Now you have a reputation, a title, a brand, a version of yourself that everybody has already agreed to. So trying something new at this stage feels like risking all of that. “What will people say?” - famous last words of a dream deferred…Or is it a dream canceled?

Anyway those who know me know I have always been a tryer. This Konfessional you’re reading right now started as a try. I said let me just start writing and see. I’ve built things. I’ve sold things. I’ve shelved things. Even now I’m yapping online, writing a book, prepping a digital product, and contemplating 500 other ways to conquer my fears. Not everything I’ve tried has worked BUT every single thing I am now came out of something I tried.

So why did I let the trying slow down? When did experimenting become something I needed to explain?

I don’t believe I was called to be finished. Neither were you, by the way. The version of you that exists right now is not the final draft, and treating it like one is not fair on yourself AT ALL. If I believe I was called forth for a purpose, and I do, then I have to believe the curiosity is part of the calling. The itch to try is not a malfunction. It could be instruction.

My friends, the time for experimentation is now. Not when the schedule clears. Not when it’s less risky. Now. Because the cost of experimenting is a little embarrassment, maybe. But the cost of not experimenting is that you arrive at the end of a season having only ever done the things you already knew how to do. That kinda sucks.

I say all that to say- I am in the lab. I am trying. Loudly. Badly, sometimes.

So….over to you! What is the thing you’ve been meaning to try? The one you keep explaining away?

Get in the lab. Get to mixing. Get to trying. Get to attempting. Get to inventing. And don’t let anybody stop you, including the one living in your own head.

Just get in the lab.

xo Kunbi

It’s July. Somehow.

I keep doing the math and it keeps being true. NA WA!!

Half the year is behind us. Half of it. And I have been thinking about what I did with mine, and more honestly, what I didn’t do.

If you saw my inbox and my calendar, you would not call it a quiet year. But there are corners of my world that I loosened my grips on. Things I was so excited to do this year that I just… set down. For instance- this newsletter. LOL

But first, let me catch you up on what’s been happening.

Girrrrrrl! I keep saying I’m on a journey of self-discovery. I know how that sounds. It sounds like I shaved my head and went somewhere with linen pants and a journal and was chanting eat pray love. No. Not like that. More like, I was jejely minding my business and self-discovery came to find me in the middle of it. Lol and honestly, I was okay with it BUT the issue with a journey of self-discovery (the thing nobody puts on the retreat brochure) is that during the self-discovery you still have to work because- bills. lol

So I’ve been busy 😩 working to make ends meet.

Life has sha been happening at full volume, work things, school things, family things- all the things. All while still quietly asking myself the bigger questions: Who am I when I’m not lawyering? What actually brings me alive? Not what I’m good at, I know what I’m good at. What brings me ALIVE??

What a question. That’s the question I’m trying to answer and I think you all know this by now.

I am committed to chasing the thing that truly brings me alive, and I am going to get into alignment with it now. Not someday. Not after the busy season ( because I’ve been in a busy season since roughly 2011). Now.

Which is how I ended up in a 40-day yap challenge.

Yes. Forty days of showing up on camera and talking. Yapping, if you will. Some days it’s strategy, some days it’s faith, some days it’s whatever is sitting on my chest that morning. And I won’t lie to you, some days the last thing I want to do is turn a camera on my face. But every single time I do it, something loosens. My voice gets a little more mine. That’s the whole point. Not the views, not the algorithm. The voice. You cannot get into alignment with a calling you refuse to speak out loud.

If you want to follow along, I’m doing it over on Instagram. Come watch me figure it out in public. It’s very humbling over there.

The more I yap, the more one thing keeps rising to the top. More and more, I feel called to encouragement. To strategy. To sitting with people who are building something and helping them see the path, and then encouraging them to walk it. I’ve been doing versions of this my whole career, honestly my whole life, in contract reviews and consult calls and voice notes to friends. But it’s always been a side thing. Something in me keeps saying it’s supposed to be a main.

So I’m pulling at that thread. I can’t tell you where it leads to yet, partly because I’m still finding out myself. But I wanted to say it out loud here as well.

Okay so back to what I was talking about. What was it again? Yeah, HALF TIME…

I mentioned in my last KOnfessional that frequency is merely one unit of measure. There are so many more ways to measure. For instance, the “quiet” has not been empty. It has been full. Full of work. Full of my family. Full of forty- hehe. That counts please.

I’m learning slowly, at my big age, that a pause is not an abandonment. A pause is not a failure. Sometimes even- the pause is the strategy, even when you didn’t plan it that way.

And when it’s time to come back- COME BACK! Don’t be shy… don’t beat yourself about it. Don’t spend three paragraphs apologizing to people who mostly didn’t notice and fully didn’t mind. Just dust yourself up and sit back down.

So this is me, sitting back down.

If you’re at your own half-time right now, looking at the thing you set down in March and feeling guilt crawl up your shoulder, PLEASE - dust that ish away!

Reject the urge to panic. Reject it.

Instead of panicking about what we haven’t gotten done, let’s look at what we have left. Six whole months. Let’s look at what we can actually control, because that list is shorter than the worry list and infinitely more useful. And then let’s ask the only question that moves anything: how. Not “why didn’t I?” not “what if I had?” HOW? from here?

I’ve been binging From lately. And there’s this moment in the tunnels, where one character is trying to lead another through the dark, monsters sleeping all around them, and she wants to stop and turn back because they’re getting deeper and deeper into … mess but the guy- Victor (sweet, strange Victor) says to her: “There’s no going back. We have to go through.”

WHEW. That ish sat with me for hours.

Because that’s the second half of the year, isn’t it? You can’t go back to January and do it differently. The tunnel only goes one direction.

Right after Victor says this to Tabitha, he tells her they both have to be brave. Both of them (even the one who knows the way). Whew! What an episode.

SOOOO I say all of this to say:

Pick it back up.

Don’t announce it. Don’t apologize for it.

Just pick it back up and keep going.

And while you’re doing that, please remember to have fun.

I mean it. You spent the first half of this year hustling, panicking, sweating. I know. I lived it too.

But please you cannot “come and kill yourself”. You have to have fun too. You deserve fun too!!!

Fun is NOT a reward you earn after the hard part. It is not what you get to do once everything is handled, because let me save you some time, everything is never handled.

Fun should be part of the assignment.

Kids have recess for christ’s sake! We deserve recess too so we don’t run mad. Nobody makes an eight-year-old finish everything first. Somewhere along the way we decided grownups don’t get recess, and I’m petitioning you to reject that ish.

So take the recess. This weekend, this month, this second half. Laugh at something dumb. Sit outside. Travel. Play.

We have a whole half left. Spend some of it playing.

You deserve it.

You know what else you deserve? A cookie because I don’t know how you made it all the way to the end of this KOnfessional. Lol I really rambled today.

I’m back baby!

Trying to get my brain to focus on one thing at a time has been a whole challenge. The moment I put myself fully into one thing, I lose myself from the others. Remember what I said about how anything that requires your presence also requires your absence somewhere else? Facts only.

But I’m back. And I have to say: frequency is only one unit of measure. Full stop. I finish things when I finish them.

But guys. I’m forty — I’m actually forty. Wow.

I turned forty three weeks ago, and it just made me realize: time really is leaping. It feels like just yesterday that I turned 39. How are we already past my 40th?!

Anyway…

Leading up to 40 was heavy- the way big thresholds are. But let me tell you. Once you cross over, it’s like a roller coaster. The climb up is the heavy part. But once you crest that top and come down, it’s all exhilaration. All thrill. At least that’s what it has been for me.

My celebration was beautiful. I wish I could bottle that feeling and carry it everywhere with me, because truly, it was the most amazing time of my life. It wasn’t the biggest party in the world. It wasn’t the most elaborate (ahem I said MOST) but it was drenched in love. People I love, who love me. When you come from love, when you’re surrounded by love, you move different. You feel different. It was overwhelming, to be honest. In the best way.

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One of my big sissies put it like this: Turning 40 is proof of life. I love that. So starting this week, I’m recapping the whole thing — In Living Kolor. There’s so much pressure on that recap that every single time I say “I’m starting,” I get overwhelmed at the thought. But it’s coming. I promise.

Y’all it was not an easy thing to plan. Between me, my creative partner Dami (By Dami Studios) and ChatGPT (Chasiu as I call him)- getting this thing out of my head and into the world was a feat. We legit had to pivot countries four times. Country to country to country, to the point where I started thinking, wow, maybe I’m actually not supposed to have this party. Is this God’s will or not? But it turned around. It happened. Eventually.

That’s the thing it taught me: I am spirit-led. The spirit that speaks with me is actually real, and I believe it. When I have something in my head that needs to come out, it’s not a mistake. I am not a mistake. The way I’m wired is not a mistake.

I’m getting emotional even saying that.

When you have the kind of brain I have, where it’s really hard to focus, where sometimes things don’t stay, where you’re more interested in creating than doing certain things, people can read that as oh, you’re not serious enough, you’re not brilliant enough. That’s not the truth. We are the way we are because God equipped us this way. Yes- we may need help with certain things, to “function”, to do things the more conventional way. That doesn’t mean we were a mistake in any way.

I’m learning this now as I parent a child who shares so many of these traits with me. A child who, at this exact age, needs to hear the very thing I probably needed to hear when I was that age. And it’s wonderful. Wonderful to be learning it now, while it still matters, while I can still hand it over. I believe I was equipped to be the right messenger for this. Not just for my child — for a lot of the people in my life.

every thread is for the next person

I really, truly believe this: we walk through what we walk through to find our own way, yes, but we’re also walking so we can help the next person.

I see it in so many threads of my life. My infertility story- I went through it because I needed to be able to encourage the next person. My ADHD- I’m living it because I need to encourage the next person. My unconventional career, the whole conventional-versus-unconventional thing- same. My writing, my creativity- I’m making it so I can inspire the next person.

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This transition, this entry into this …season, has impressed something more than anything: do it. Do it. Trust it. Lean into it. That’s the exact place where we create a disconnect — the hesitation, the second-guessing. We need to lean into the powers the Lord has given us. Our spiritual gifts, our physical gifts, our intellectual gifts. All of those things are for the betterment of the next.

So in the spirit of do it, I’m currently in the middle of a 40-day yapping challenge on Instagram. It’s really just another way for me to massage “my voice.” Yapping, for me, is like the Konfessional — a way to write through my thoughts, to think them out loud. And honestly? That’s the whole feeling of forty so far. Less holding back. More out loud.

Because forty is electrifying.

I don’t know if it’s the idea of crossing the threshold — maybe forty was a mental block I’d built up in my own head, and now that I’m on the other side of it, I just feel unleashed. I finally get what people mean when they say you turn forty and suddenly you’re Aristotle. There’s so much sitting in this season. So much in here. And all of it is electric.

So if you’re on the cusp of a milestone, hear me: lean into it.

Lean all the way into it.

It’s going to happen anyway — and the truth is, you want it to happen anyway. Because it’s proof of life. And what life means is that whether or not you’re ready, it comes. And we receive it. You aren’t where you used to be, and you won’t be here forever either. So lean in.

That’s the season I’m in. And I hope this encourages somebody.

Because I’m forty. Yes. I am.

It’s proof of life.

Side note- before I start my complaining- I want to apologize to those of you who have been here from the beginning. Those who signed up for the seemingly joyous record of my whimsical day-to-day.

I’m sorry. You were scammed.

Because what I didn’t fully understand when I started was that joyous and heavy aren’t opposites. Sometimes they share a bed. My bad y’all. Adulting is in fact “gbas-gbos”. Overstimulating, Overdemanding, and in many situations- Unrewarding. Na so we see am.

Okay back to it.

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I’m so deep in the hole with my writing that I don’t even know where to start. The truth is I’ve been struggling to write. My brain has felt “at capacity” and the more time that passed between KOnfessionals, the harder it became to start writing again. This has plagued me for 9 weeks but today, I’m determined to break free of it. Let’s call this me wiggling my toes…

CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR TOES?

That’s what they ask in hospitals when they’re trying to gauge movement. After something happens they ask you to wiggle your toes. It’s not a small ask. Wiggling your toes is the first move to moving your foot. Then comes standing.. followed by walking. It is not a small task at all. The first movement (in the hospital) requires even more than the next one. So dear friend, I ask- can YOU wiggle your toes?

Wiggling your toes looks different for everyone. Maybe yours is starting that routine you’ve been putting off. Maybe it’s leaving the house after a long time inside. Picking up the phone to call someone you’ve been meaning to call but feel guilty for the silence that has lingered. It could be loving yourself again. Whatever it is, it counts.

Can you wiggle your toes? Good. That’s enough.

So that’s what I’m doing today. I’m going to brain-dump a few of the thoughts I have had over the last two months.

1. TWO GRIEFS

When someone dies there are two losses. The loss of the person and the loss of who you were before you lost them.

We talk about grief like it’s one clean thing. Like you mourn and eventually come back to yourself. But you don’t always come back to the same self. The person you were before, the one who didn’t know yet what it felt like to live in a world without that specific person in it, that version of you is also gone. You grieve them too. Even without language for it.

It is horrible and unfair.

2. WE ARE TRYING

I feel like i need to hear this as much as anyone.

We are trying. Really.

There is a quiet daily unwitnessed effort happening in people right now that deserves more credit than it gets. Showing up to lives that are asking a lot. Getting out of bed into mornings that aren’t easy. Making decisions without enough information. Holding yourself and other people together at the same time.

That counts. Even when it doesn’t look like enough from the outside. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough from the inside.

We are all trying. We really are.

3. FRIENDSHIP AS SERVICE

I used to think my greatest superpower was something in me. Resilience maybe. The ability to pivot quickly.

The last two months corrected that.

My superpower is my tribe. Full stop.

I have watched people I love come through for each other in ways that quietly rearranged something in me. Not the grand gestures, though there were some of those. The smaller things. The checking in. Showing up without being asked. The friend who just knew and acted before you finished explaining. The group chat that became a lifeline without anyone officially declaring it that.

Friendship as service. Not friendship as convenience, not friendship as proximity. Friendship as a choice made repeatedly, often without applause.

I have been on the receiving end of that this season and I am not taking it for granted. May we never lose sight of what it means to be held by people who chose us. May we be that for someone too.

4. OUTSIDE IS EXPENSIVE

Sorry I don’t even know how else to say it but my goodness OUTSIDE IS EXPENSIVE! Many of you know I turn 40 soon (2 weeks exactly) and I have been planning my destination celebration. LOL this particular party has pivoted like 5 different times over the last year and with every pivot, the costs have exploded.

Every decision leads to another decision. Every saved cost reveals three costs you forgot to account for. The spreadsheet is fiction. The budget is a suggestion. The timeline is a joke.

And yet. I’m still doing it. Because not celebrating is not something I’m willing to accept. Not this year. Not after everything.

So if you’re planning anything- a wedding, a birthday, any milestone, I see you. I am you. May God replenish you because - wow.

Whew. So yeah- those are my thoughts for now. Thanks for allowing me dump on you. It’s not perfectly curated, it’s by no means well written, but it’s me breaking free from the silence here. A step… well, a wiggle.

Now it’s your turn- what are you going to do to start? Anything at all!

Wiggle your toes and keep it moving.

xo - Kunbi

P.S. Please hit reply (or comment below) so I can know how you are wiggling your toes this week. Let’s encourage each other

Hey y’all. Too much has been happening. If you follow me on IG, you know my mummy and sister live in Dubai so this week has been … interesting. I just thank God they continue to feel safe and pray this ends sooner rather than later. Thank you to everyone who checked in on them.

With little sleep and an overwhelmed mind this week, I debated sharing about my book on IG but the date March 4th was one I couldn’t let pass me by. So I did it. I posted about my book- FORTH. Out loud. On the internet. To people who are not you my wonderful KOnfessional readers.

And now I feel sick.

Which is wild because I am the one always shouting Launch that Ish! Take the Leap! But saying it out loud outside of a safe space was weird. Emailing you guys is easy because you’re my audience, my friends. In this KOmmunity I can say “I’m writing a book” and it feels like telling your sister. It’s safe. It’s contained. You cheer, you pray, you hold me accountable, and we move.

But posting it out there? I don’t know them IG folks like that lol. They didn’t read the KOnfessional about reason versus excuse. They don’t know about friendship as a service or the rice at home or any of the language we’ve built together in this space. To them I just stood in the middle of a room full of strangers and said “hi, I’m writing a book and I don’t have a publisher or an editor or a plan but here I am.”

Yikes.

Honestly? It’s making me feel like a bit of a hypocrite. Because I’m always the one shouting “launch it, stand on business, do the thing, stop waiting, call it forth.” I write these KOnfessionals every week telling you to step out and take the leap. To stop letting your ideas die inside you. To stop collecting excuses. And I meant every word of that. I still do.

But mannnn, everything sounds so much better in theory. The practice? She is humbling. HUMBLING!

You know that feeling when you give someone really good advice and then life puts you in the exact same situation and suddenly your own advice sounds insane? That’s where I am right now. I’m sitting in the exact seat I’ve been telling you to sit in and I’m SWEATING.

I write whole essays about not letting fear win. And then I hit post on a single announcement and my chest is tight and I’m checking my phone every four minutes like I’m waiting on lab results. Refreshing. Scrolling. Reading into every like and every silence. It’s embarrassing honestly. But it’s real life.

This is the part nobody talks about. The after. The moment between the leap and the landing where you’re just… suspended. You already jumped so you can’t go back. But you haven’t landed yet so you don’t know if it’s going to be a soft landing or a face plant. And in that suspended space your brain starts running through every reason you should have just. kept. your mouth. shut.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe I should have waited until I had more to show. Maybe I should have had the editor locked in first, the publisher secured, a proper rollout with a PR person and a strategy deck. Maybe announcing a book with nothing but a title and a prayer was reckless.

But then again. When has my timing ever been “right” by anyone else’s standard?

Lol can you tell i’m processing this out loud as I type? Yeah so this is fully, completely, unapologetically unfinished. I don’t have a book editor. I don’t have a publisher. I don’t have a deal. I don’t have a timeline anyone would call professional.

So what I really did — what I actually did on March 4th — was give the world full access to an unfinished process.

And now you all get to watch. In real time. Whether I fumble or whether I stand.

And honestly? That’s always been my pattern. If you’ve been here long enough you know this about me. I’m a bit shameless when it comes to sharing my process. I’ll tell you about the failure before I tell you about the win. I’ll show you the mess before the cleanup. That’s just how I’m wired. The KOnfessional exists because I genuinely believe that the mess IS the message.

But right now? The shamelessness feels uncomfortable. The Naija woman in me feels … exposed.. naked if you will. There’s a vulnerability in unfinished things that finished things don’t carry. When something is done you can point to it and say “see? It worked.” When something is in progress all you can say is “I’m trying.” And “I’m trying” doesn’t look as good on a slide deck.

But again, that’s where the story lies. The finished book will be beautiful, God willing. But the real story (the one that actually matters) is in the process itself. It’s in the messy middle. In the not knowing.

And I welcome you to see how it goes.

Maybe watching this in real time encourages somebody to know that it’s possible. That you don’t need everything figured out before you begin.

Or maybe it encourages somebody to realize that even if it doesn’t work out, you try. And you try again. Because the trying IS the thing.

So I don’t really know where I’m going with this one. I started writing it because I felt weird and now I feel a little less weird so maybe that’s enough.

SO Sit back and let’s call it FORTH together?

I am. Obviously, ugh.

Before you say, Kunbi, 'age ain't nothing but a number.' Thank you. I disagree but thank you. I think the truth is more like... age isn't THE number we should be chasing. But it got me thinking about what numbers we are chasing. And whether we've been using the wrong unit of measure.

Because I’m realizing that so much of my frustration, so much of the pressure I carry, comes down to units of measure- the things I’m using to calculate whether I’m on track, whether I’m enough, whether something was worth it.

When I was going through infertility, time became the whole story. My age. How long we’d been married. How many rounds of treatment. Four rounds, five years. My entire life narrowed down to numbers on a chart. Every month was another calculation.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped being a person going through something hard and just became... the numbers. I measured my entire worth by what my AMH and FSH levels were, where I was on that timeline. How old I was. How long it had been. How many rounds in. Time became my only unit of measure.

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And from inside that, four years felt like forty. Every month lasted a year. From the outside, someone could look at my numbers and think, okay, four years, that’s not forever. But from inside? It was everything.

My son is eight now. And when I look back, those numbers don’t carry the same weight they used to. But I haven’t forgotten how they felt when I was living in them.

And you'd think once you get to the other side, the measuring stops. It doesn't. Even now, there's been another gbas-gbos. Premature ovarian insufficiency. Early menopause. New numbers. A new unit of measure.

All of that- the counting, the calculating, that was me doing it to myself. My own internal clock. But sometimes the measuring comes from the outside. And honestly? That might be worse.

This week I watched a popular influencer announce her pregnancy. She was particularly emotional about finding out- hinting that there was some kind of journey to conceive. Lots of screams, lots of tears of joy and relief.

But people came for her.

From what I gleaned from the uproar, she hadn’t been married long enough for this to be portrayed as a real struggle. Like there’s a required amount of suffering before you’re allowed to cry publicly. Like pain has a particular tier and she hadn’t reached it yet.

Whew, I don’t know men… That felt … icky. Because who gets to decide that for someone else? For some people, two months of longing can sit in their chest just as heavy as two years. We don’t know.

We love to play timekeeper with other people's lives. Measuring someone else's pain on our own scale. That's a unit of measure too. And it will never be accurate.

And trust me I’m speaking to myself too. This is a confessional after all. I have no high-horse to climb.

All I am trying to interrogate here is:

What is our unit of measure and what qualifies it?

Because it's not just about time. Units of measure show up in what we pour into things versus what we get back. And how sometimes those two things are so far apart, you don’t even know what to do with yourself.

I think about the hours I’ve poured into building something. The late nights, the content, the showing up consistently when nobody was watching. Then you look at the numbers, the opportunities, whatever metric you're checking, and it doesn't reflect what you put in. The effort was real. I know it was. But the results don't always show that, and it can be so demoralizing, where you're like, “okay, so what am I actually supposed to be looking at here? Am I measuring the wrong thing or is the thing just not working?”

Again, unit of measure.

Which brings me back to 40. Somewhere along the way, 40 stopped being a birthday and became a deadline. And I've been sprinting ever since. Make more money. Figure out the career. Make a 40 Under 40 list, any list. Because isn't that the saying? Life begins at 40? Which sounds inspiring until you're staring it down and thinking, okay but I'm still figuring things out. I shouldn't still be figuring things out. I should have answers by now. I should have arrived somewhere by now. I didn't even realize I was keeping score until I looked up and saw this whole scoreboard I'd built in my head that nobody asked for.

But knowing a metric is nonsense doesn’t always stop it from running your life.

I was listening to a sermon recently where the pastor said “God does not work on our Gregorian calendar”. And honestly? Facts. He doesn’t. We built these systems and convinced ourselves they were gospel.

Maybe I’m grabbing onto that because I’m deep in it right now. 39 with 96 days on the clock and no trophy in hand. I’ll own that. But I also think it’s just true. Every day is actually a new day. Not a countdown. Not another mark against you. Just a day.

And I think that applies to all of it. The timelines. The scorecards. The way we calculate effort and return. The way we grade our lives against standards we didn’t even consciously choose.

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I don’t have a tidy ending for this post. That was never the point. These confessionals aren’t meant to be answers. They’re just a written record of me thinking out loud and maybe giving you permission to do the same.

I'm still in the middle of the audit. Still catching myself reaching for the wrong ruler. But I'm starting to notice when I do. And I think that's something.

What do you think?

Xo, Kunbi

(Ps. All that being said, you know I’m deeeeep in party planning lol)

TGIF! I’m resharing one of my favorite KOnfessionals today — “Friendship as a Service” — but before you scroll down to it, let me tell you why.

You see that picture above? The one of my friends literally pinning me together, hands everywhere, steadying me, right before I walked on stage to speak at what was, at the time, the biggest and most important stage of my speaking career? One of those friends — one of those hands — is Akeshi.

And Akeshi just wrote a book that I need every single one of you to know about.

The Art of Celebrating: Inspiration and Ideas for Meaningful Gatherings came out this month. I just received my copy, and y’all, it is STUNNING. The kind of book you hold in your hands and just feel the intention behind every single page. The quality of the paper, the richness of the images, the design — everything is a full 10 out of 10. This is not a book that was just thrown together. This is a book that was crafted with excellence, and you can feel it.

And if you know Akeshi, none of this surprises you. She is everything I preach about when I say launch that ish. She is the living, breathing embodiment of ditch the fear, ditch the excuses, and GO DO THE THING. This woman will casually announce that she’s working on something, and by the next week? It’s done. Fully realized. Out in the world. My friends and I always joke and say “we need to channel the Akeshi spirit” because that is what she carries. She is a DOER. She gets it done, no matter what.

One of the things I find really beautiful about people like Akeshi is that they don’t do it for the applause. They don’t place priority on the reward. They do the work because something inside them said, “This has to exist. This cannot die in me.” And they honor that call. Every single time.

But I also want her to be REWARDED for it. Because she deserves it. She is truly, truly phenomenal.

So I am personally asking you — not suggesting, ASKING — please go buy The Art of Celebrating today. Support this woman. Support this work. It would genuinely mean the world to me.

If you’ve ever attended one of Akeshi’s events, sat at one of her tables, or worked alongside her, you know this already. She doesn’t just “plan” celebrations. She curates moments that linger. Moments that feel thoughtful. Personal. Rooted.

As someone who loves celebrations, this book called to me and I know so many of you enjoy hosting as well.

The Art of Celebrating isn’t about doing more or hosting perfectly. It’s about slowing down, being intentional, and creating space for connection — whether that’s a dinner for two or a full table of friends.

Please, go ahead and make my day by purchasing this gorgeous book. It is a great read and would also make a beautiful coffee table book.

Link to purchase on Amazon: https://a.co/d/046bFMoF

More about the Author Akeshi Akinseye and the Art of Celebrating here:

https://www.theartofcelebrating.com/

Thank you. 🤍 Now back to Friendship as a Service

xo, Kunbi

Friendship as a Service (FaaS)

Am I the only one that keeps seeing those posts about the superiority of “effortless friendships”- those no-effort-needed relationships where you can drop off and pick right back up like no time has passed? Listen, I love those friendships–love! But in the same breath, I’ve come to realize that adult friendships often demand more from us. Yes, even in the trenches of surviving adulting, friendships can require more. They’re not just about fun hangouts or catching up; they involve going through the real, the rugged, and the mundane of life.

Friendships aren’t one-size-fits-all. Sometimes they’re wonderfully effortless, sometimes they’re complex- because that’s how life actually is. True friendship encompasses many elements rolled into one: love, care, and yes, what I’ve come to call “Friendship as a Service”(FaaS).

Think of it as the active, intentional effort we invest- whether it’s checking in when someone’s world is upside down, offering practical help when they’re in a pinch, or simply being the reassuring voice that says, “I’m here.” It’s the realization that while some days might feel breezy and effortless, other days demand real work, honest conversations, and a willingness to show up even when you’re tired. 

And yes, sometimes it means making sure it makes it out of the group chat.

Just like our favorite apps and services stay reliable and updated, think of friendship the same way. It’s about being actively present, not just passively available. Real friendship demands engagement, timely check-ins (even if it’s just a “You good?” voice note), and the willingness to pivot as life evolves. And yes, just like any good service, friendships need periodic “troubleshooting” and upgrades. People grow, needs change, boundaries shift—adapting to these changes, embracing different love languages, and maintaining an honest line of communication all help keep our bond strong. It’s the difference between a friendship that merely exists and one that genuinely thrives.

Friendship as a service also looks like letting your friend know when you’re hurt and speaking up about your love language needs, so they can genuinely show up for you, too. It’s not about scoring points or keeping track of favors; it’s giving them a chance to support you in ways that actually matter. Because let’s face it, if we don’t voice our needs, our friends are left guessing, and that’s not how we nurture a bond.

It’s knowing that yes, one friend might crave love out loud- public shoutouts, big celebrations- while another prefers thoughtful phone calls or quiet quality time. It’s catching when a friend is behaving “off” and something bigger might be the matter. By paying attention to what “things” … “thing’ each person and adapting accordingly, we move from surface-level kikis to deep, fulfilling connection. And that’s where the magic is. 

Friendship as a service also looks like making time to know your friend’s children (something I’m working on I promiseeee). It means speaking up for your friend, especially when they aren't in the room. It means being the yelling voice they need when they’re being absolutely unreasonable, or the affirming voice when they’ve forgotten who TF they are. It means giving them the grace to be themselves and feel safe in your space-knowing that even if every other place feels off, with you, they can be real.

Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s subtle, but ultimately it’s about showing them that you see them, you hear them, and you’re in their corner, no matter what.

So yeah y’all- The truth is, sometimes being a friend is work. Not all the time, of course- there are moments when it’s as easy as breathing. But there are also times when it requires honest effort and a willingness to put in the time, energy, and grace it takes to maintain that bond. And honestly? That’s okay. It's exactly what makes these friendships worthwhile.

So lets embrace this idea of Friendship as a Service (FaaS) - the consistent, evolving, and heart-led effort we pour into our relationships. Because while some friendships might feel easy all the time, many require a bit of elbow grease, honest communication, and a ton of grace. And again, that’s okay.  

Happy International Women’s Day to us women. We see each other. 

Full stop.

And I know. Before you start with “which one is this now?” or “why is she always doing something?” — trust me, I’ve already asked myself that too.

But that right there?
That’s the problem.

Those inner monologues.
The ones where I quietly talk myself out of what I feel called to do.
The ones that sound practical, measured, responsible.

I’m done with those.

There is too much going on in my head that needs to come out. And I’d rather it come out than die inside of me.

Because believe me, I’ve said every version of every excuse.
I’ve talked myself out of it.
Talked myself back into it.
Then talked myself right back out again.

But I’m tired of letting things die inside me.

Here’s what I know to be true:
I am called to create.
I am called to launch.
I am called to birth things.

And I’m going to do all of those things.

Not just because I feel it in my spirit, but because I deserve to see them live.

I deserve to watch them breathe outside of me instead of suffocating on the inside. And beyond me? It might change someone else’s life.

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There is purpose in everything. I believe that deeply.
What’s in you isn’t just for you.
People need to see it.
People need to hear it.

But first: it has to come out.

And you know what powered this start?

These Konfessionals.

This space.
This practice of showing up and telling the truth.
Of saying the thing before it’s perfect.

I’m so grateful for it. And I’m so excited to see where it leads.

Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest… let’s talk about excuses.

As I started writing the foundational parts of my book this weekend (wow… my book), I found myself digging deep- looking for the patterns behind some of my own cycles. And you know I preach pattern recognition. Find the pattern, then trace it back to the root.

That’s when the lightbulb went off.

There is a difference between a reason and an excuse.

A reason is the root cause.
It’s the why behind the pattern.

An excuse?
That’s the story we build on top of the reason so we can stay comfortable.

And just because there’s a reason doesn’t mean there needs to be an excuse.

Most times, the reason is valid.
The excuse is not.

Now, let me be clear. I am not a “no excuses, grind through everything” person. That’s never been my lane. But in certain seasons? In certain moments?

Needs must.

And the need is this: if you want to move forward, you must strip your excuses of their power. You have to look at them. Name them. Disarm them.

So I tried something—for myself.

I made a list.

As someone who struggles with focus long enough to finish what I start, I’ve been forcing myself to write things down this past month. And it’s been powerful. I started keeping an excuses list.

Because when my excuses live in my head, they all feel untouchable. But when they’re on paper? I can see them. I can sort them. I can tell the difference between what’s truly blocking me, and what’s just been allowed to linger.

Some things on that list aren’t just excuses. They’re real.
But in order to address them, I have to be honest enough to see them.

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We’re all a work in progress. And the work doesn’t stop until we’re off this earth. This isn’t a one-and-done revelation. It’s ongoing.

I’m sharing my self-awareness out loud so we can do it together.

So yes. I’m writing a book.

And that is one thing officially removed from my excuse list. Because it’s been sitting on my chest for years.

And it’s time to bring it forth.

What is something you want to do?

Tell me.

xoxo, Kunbi

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There’s a KOnfessional that’s been sitting in my spirit for over six months. Every time I try to write it, something else pops up and I abandon ship. At first I blamed it on being busy, but now I’m starting to think it’s because—well—this one is about me too. You know what they say: a hit dog will holler… and hide.

we’re exhausted. The news cycle doesn’t quit. Our President has lost it (this could apply to almost any country at this point). People are fighting for their lives—some literally, some emotionally. I get it. Wallahi, I get it. But somewhere in all that chaos, something else has crept in. And I don’t mean to sound like the Aunty of all Aunties when I say this, but:

Sis, it’s not just shade anymore… it’s snark.

Like, heavy on the snark. The spirit of SHADE is in the air. I’ve caught it. You’ve caught it. We’ve all caught it.

The little digs. The backhanded compliments. The “lol not me rolling my eyes at this” tone some people put on everything. The comments that make you squint and wonder, “Wait, who are they dragging?” They’re in full bloom.

I feel like i have to pause every few mins through this to say … I’m talking to myself too o, please it only needs to reach who it needs to reach. In fact what re-informed this topic for me was when I gave my sister in law a compliment about something and she was like “wait, are you being shady?” And It really stung. Because she immediately couldn’t accept the compliment because she questioned my motives. I hated that for her and for me.

And listen—I know where some of it is coming from (for me at least). When I’m tired, burnt out, overstimulated, or overwhelmed, I could get unintentionally mean. Straight up. My toddler does the exact same thing. Let her skip a nap or miss a snack and suddenly she’s out here throwing hands over a crayon. You’d think she just got evicted.

I watch her meltdown and I’m like, “Girl, breathe.” But deep down, I know—she’s me. I’m her. We’re all just big toddlers with bills.

In fact as I type, my 7 year old is in the middle of a 2 hour devolution which has included me being a “bad mummy”, “the only person he wants to be around” and the “cause of his sadness” all in the last 2 hours. One of us needs sedation.

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So yeah, so much is going on within and around us… and now we have social media. Where thoughts that were once filtered through reason and decency now go straight from brain to caption. From emotion to tweet. From petty to post. There’s no pause. No gut check. Just: “I don’t like that dress,” or “She’s doing too much,” or “who even asked you to post this?.” ...Sent. Posted. Shared. Na wa.

Our timelines are littered with commentary no one asked for, about people we don’t know, doing things that do not concern us.

What used to be internal judgment has become communal critique. And it’s dressed up as “honesty” or “just saying” or “I’m allowed to have an opinion.” But y’all, let’s call it what it is sometimes: SNARK.

AGAIN, let me say I am dragging myself abi is it a mirror I dont even know. mirror. Because i promise—the call is coming from inside the house. I find myself saying “no shade” or “is this a safe space?” Like WAY too many times in a day LMAO. I need to do better. I really do. And if you’re anything like I am in this season…

You’re tired. You’re frustrated. You’re coping. And it’s leaking out.

SO here’s my gentle nudge: Maybe it’s not them or maybe it is (lol) BUTTTTT also…

Maybe you’re just running on fumes. Maybe the version of you that’s commenting is the version that needs sleep, or silence, or some space from the noise. 

Maybe log off. Shut it all down.

We can’t control the world. But we can control our mouths. We can pause before we post. We can decide whether we want to be the person that dims light or reflects it.

And if you’ve been a little snarky lately? If you’ve said things that felt good in the moment but lowkey shameful in the rewind? You’re not alone. Just check yourself. Reset. Try again.

We’re all kuku trying our best.

XOXO,

KO

P.s. what are you doing this weekend? Tell me!

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One of the biggest myths about peace is that it means everything around you is going well. That life is orderly. That plans are working. That people are behaving. That the world is cooperating.

LIES.

That version of peace is fragile. It collapses the moment something goes off-script. And trust me when I say, something always does.

So to me, real peace is sturdier than that.

Real peace is NOT the absence of chaos but the ability to stay rooted despite it.

Real peace allows you to think clearly. To pause. To avoid knee-jerk reactions. To respond with intention instead of urgency. I think we all need that.

2025 was so chaotic but I realized something really big from it. I don’t have to become the chaos as well. That’s what we should all prioritize this year. Across every single thing.

Because there’s potential for peace in every facet of our lives.

1. There’s peace in identity- in knowing who you are and what roots you. When your sense of self is settled, you’re not constantly renegotiating your worth or your place in the room. You move from a centered place.

2. There’s peace in safe spaces- in knowing you won’t be judged, rushed, or mishandled. Where your honesty isn’t punished and your vulnerability isn’t weaponized.

3. There’s peace in clarity- in knowing where you’re going and what you’re looking to achieve. This is the one I have been holding God’s ankle for, I am determined to stop chasing aimlessly and start walking toward the goal for my life. The clarity in that movement can be life-changing.

4. In the same light, there’s peace in inevitability- in knowing that something must happen. Good or bad. Must. Not might. Not if things go well. Must. That knowing steadies you. Keeps you afloat.

   And I’ll be honest: nine times out of ten, I do not feel this peace. Zero. Because why must there be struggle? Why? Half the time I find myself asking God what the freaking lesson is in some of the resistance I feel. When your progress feels frustrated, it can make you lose your mind.

   But there’s peace in being able to sit with it anyway. In taking the lesson, even when you’re mad about having to learn it in the first place.

   Which brings me to point 5…

5. There’s peace in surrender. Peace in not needing to control every variable. Peace in accepting timing you didn’t choose. Peace in trusting that movement is happening even when it’s quiet.

Peace doesn’t mean you don’t feel the storm.

It means the storm doesn’t get to displace you.

So yeah, you can expect a lot of “peace” from me this year — not because everything is calm, but because the world is chaotic enough. Everything is urgent. Everything is loud. Everyone is competing to be heard.

I refuse to contribute to the noise. In me and outside of me.

Maybe this year isn’t about fixing everything around us.

Maybe it’s more about anchoring everything within us

Ahem can you tell I’m nearing 40? Lol!

Now with all this being said, here’s my public prayer to God:

Father, I am absolutely not trying to be your strongest soldier this year. This year, I would like the enjoyment special. You know the one with joyful trips, bountiful cash and perfect health. “Best” in peace not “rest in peace”; “peace” not “pieces”. “Peaceful” not “piss-full”, you get my drift? Thank you in advance.

Here’s to a peaceful year! Namaste Wahala for real. lol!

KO

P.s. It’s been a dry January for me (at least since January 10 - ahem who’s counting) so I’m really in my deep and sober bag for now.

A blizzard is coming this weekend.

Which means we’re probably going to have to postpone or cancel my daughter’s birthday party.

And I’ve been sweating buckets trying to work up the courage to tell my girl—because how do you explain that to a four-year-old? 😂

Any tips welcome. This lady has been counting sleeps for weeks.

I know- on paper, it’s a small thing. A party can be rescheduled. Balloons will survive another weekend. Cake will still taste like cake.

And yet… try explaining that to someone who believes in timelines with her whole heart.

Anyway as I was trying to figure out what to do, I felt something else rise up in me.

Gratitude. Immense Gratitude.

Because the truth is, the mere fact that I get to explain anything to this girl—that she is about to turn four—is not lost on me. It stopped me in my tracks. It reminded me that Ara deserves her own chapter. Her own story. She’s chapter five of my infertility journey.

Because really guys my journey did not end with Ore. Yes my sweet baby boy transformed my life in a way nothing else ever could. He was the answer that came after a seemingly endless wait. But Ara did something else.

Ara came when I had convinced myself I was okay not even trying because I couldn’t afford the disappointment. You know when you get a major answer to your prayers and then maybe things dont work out later and you’re like “be content with what you have”. And even my son’s name is exactly that - “this gift God is enough for me”. So really I was CONTENT. But God said, again! It’s not a fluke!

She reminded me that God is still faithful. That miracles are not one-and-done. That faith isn’t a single-use experience.

And this isn’t really about kids or infertility. It’s about all of our life wants. About hope and those hopes we quietly revoke from ourselves after we’ve already received something good once.

Ara is the reminder I didn’t know I needed: that you are allowed to dream again. You are allowed to hope again. You are allowed to believe that more is possible.

For those who don’t know, Ara was the second embryo. The only other one. Frozen at the same time as her brother.

Ore was transferred in 2017, my Ara wasn’t transferred until four years later.

Four.

By the time we tried, I was older. Medically “geriatric,” and if I’m honest, at what felt like my final lap. There wasn’t a clear Plan B in my mind. Just trust… or the attempt at it.

In fact midway through the process of the FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer), I got a voicemail from my fertility clinic (one I still have saved today. It was to inform me that my bloodwork showed a significant decline in my hormones indicating premature ovarian insufficiency. Something I now know has propelled me into earl(ier) menopause. Sigh but that didn’t have anything to do with the task at hand. So we proceeded.

And my daughter made her mark immediately.

I tested three days after the transfer- something you are absolutely not supposed to do-and there it was. A line. Faint, but undeniable.

She came back into my body with certainty.

When I went in for my first HCG (blood test for pregnancy), the numbers were so high they told me it looked like I might be carrying triplets.

Anyone who knows Ara now will tell you: that tracks.

You see, the miracle of Ara is much more than a fertility story to me.

She is a reminder that God can be trusted—again and again.

One of the things I’ve been intentionally doing lately, which I’ve shared here before, is going back to the miracles in my life and really holding on to them. Referencing them like a case cite in a brief. Naming them plainly and saying: these things happened. And they were not coincidences.

Because if something can happen once—if it can happen to me—then it can happen again. Maybe not in the same form. Maybe not on the same timeline. But again, nonetheless.

Ara taught me that my miracle was not a fluke.

Not a lucky break.

Not a one-time exception.

Not a moment that used up all the grace allotted to me.

And that matters SO much to me. I encourage you to allow it matter to you too.

Because when something goes well in our lives—when something works—we’re tempted to believe it was lightning in a bottle. That we should be grateful, but reserved. Thankful, but cautious. As if hoping again would be greedy.

And when something doesn’t work… when we drop the ball, misjudge a season, or fail outright… we’re just as quick to decide that that must be the pattern now.

Ara disrupted that thinking for me.

She reminded me that success is not a fluke.

And failure is not a prophecy.

I am not a fluke because something went right…

…and I am not a fluke because something went wrong.

God can be trusted again.

My daughter is living proof of that.

She walks into a room and fills it—fully, loudly, unapologetically. She’s in the 98th percentile in height and, honestly, probably the 98th percentile in sass too. She is second-best to no one. She doesn’t shrink. She doesn’t hesitate. She shines because that is who she is.

And she is not a fluke.

So if you’re reading this and you’re in the thick of infertility—primary, secondary, or any version that doesn’t neatly fit a label—I want you to hear this clearly:

You past victories in life were not a fluke.

Your story is not a fluke.

Your hope is not misplaced.

Your desire is not foolish.

But I also want to say this—because this goes far beyond fertility.

I don’t know what you believe. But can I encourage you TO believe?

.You are not a fluke. Mine wasn’t. So please, believe that miracles still happen. Not just the big, headline-worthy ones—but the quiet, everyday kind too. The kind that restore your courage. The kind that ask you to hope again after you’ve already been disappointed once.

Believe that grace doesn’t run out. That wonder isn’t reserved for one season. That your story isn’t finished just because one chapter was hard.

Please get ready to wish my wonder girl a happy 4th Birthday on Saturday. SHE IS THE REASON I KEEP BELIEVING because she is not a fluke.

Ps guys, I used every single em-dash in this post. It was not ChatGPT.. I’m proud o!

Xo Kunbi

Everywhere you turn right now, someone is telling you to begin again.

New year.
New habits.
New intentions.
New systems.
New you.

And they’re not wrong. I understand the relief of a clean slate. January gives us permission to call what was hard “last year” and imagine what’s ahead as lighter.

But nothing actually resets just because the date changes.

If we don’t stop first, we’re going to carry the same noise into a new calendar.

And we live in a noisy time. LOUD. Something is always happening — outside and even within. There are so many voices in our heads telling us what’s good, what’s trauma, what’s kíńkàn kíńkàn. And I’m not saying they’re wrong. I’m just saying it’s noisy. In fact sometimes WE are the noise.

We’ve spent the last several years learning the language of self-awareness. Therapy speak. Frameworks. Self-diagnosis. Reflection layered on reflection. We know how to name our wounds, our patterns, our shortcomings.

Again- not wrong.

But somewhere along the way, we overcorrected.

For me, being self-aware started to feel like constantly watching myself. Trying to grow felt heavy. Even healing started to feel like something I could fail at.

Intention stopped feeling steady. It started to feel like pressure.

And I’m tired of choosing intention from a place of noise.

A friend of mine called January the thirteenth month, and honestly, it loosened something in me.

Because January is a marker, yes- but it’s also just another month. We treat it like a high-stakes reset when really, it’s an invitation. And invitations don’t expire.

Which means intention doesn’t have to be rushed. It doesn’t have to be perfect. And it doesn’t have to be decided all at once.

There’s actually something good about slowing down while everyone else is revving up.

This isn’t a group project abeg.

One of my biggest realizations recently was admitting that I’ve been chasing peace for a while now — really for the last couple of years. Trying to quiet the noise inside so I can recalibrate properly and move forward with actual clarity. Anyone close to me (or even you reading this KOnfessional) knows this.

That’s why quiet keeps coming up for me this year.

Not “fix this.”
Not “heal that.”
Not “do better, be better, try better”

Quiet.

Because intention without silence isn’t clarity. It’s chaos. And choices made in chaos don’t feel intentional. They feel rushed.

To decide how I actually want to move forward, I have to get quiet enough to see for real how I felt - not just the story my mind tells when everything feels loud.

If you asked me how last year was, I’d probably say it was hard. Heavy. More sad than happy.

But if I’m honest, I don’t fully trust that summary.

Noise has a way of flattening things. It can collapse an entire year into one emotional headline.

So part of my pause this year isn’t about doing less. It’s about remembering more. Writing things down. Paying attention to the moments that actually made sense. The ones that felt light. The ones that grounded me. The ones that POINTED me.

I’m not locking all the bad in 2025 while ignoring the good. I’m not letting one emotion cloak the progress. I’m being quiet so I can move FORTH with peace and clarity.

So if you’ve entered this year with a long list of intentions, goals, habits, and things you’re finally getting right, that’s completely good and I trust it will bring a truly glorious year. But allow me to also make a case for QUIET and basking in it for a little longer before you hit go.

TLDR? I’m slowing down before I choose.

I’m basking in silence while the noise has revved up again.

Happy New Year!

Bisous!

"He delivers and rescues; he works signs and wonders in heaven and on earth.”- Daniel 6:27.

Where did I leave off? Yes, the first week in May. On the last day of the two-week wait, it was time to take our test. We kept dragging our feet because it was peaceful to remain in that ignorant bliss of "not knowing". We'd been through so many false alarm cycles, that it was just easier to be PUPO (Pregnant Until Proven Otherwise) for as long as possible. We waited until it was time to go to bed, took the test and walked away (because nothing drags longer than the 3 minute wait). Guys, what happened next is completely a blur now so here's what I remember:

Olamide crumbled to the floor and we wept for what felt like hours. There are no words to describe the surge of happiness that comes with finally seeing those words - "PREGNANT" flash boldly back at you. We were excited, relieved, delirious and nervous all at the same time! I don't think either of us slept a wink that night, eager as beavers for our blood test the next day.

We got our confirmation call later the next day. I knew it was positive news when the nurse told me she had us on speakerphone and called the other nurse to listen in. Yes, even my fertility specialists were excited. This had become a group effort and everyone understood how much of a blessing it was.

Since Mother's Day was right around the corner, we decided to share the news with our parents pretty early. If you follow my personal account on Instagram, you would have seen the video of my Mother in Law's reaction. Truly epic.

Last year on September 1st, we announced our pregnancy. Since then, I've received hundreds of messages from strong women around the world who are either battling infertility or had gone through it. Your stories of strength inspired me and it has been an honor following a lot of your journeys.

My pregnancy was heaven sent. No morning sickness, no pain, a breeze... until it wasn't.

Endometriosis & Pregnancy:

Studies show that women with endometriosis have a "statistically significantly higher risk of preterm birth, miscarriage, placenta previa, small for gestational age infants, and cesarean delivery" - American Society of Reproductive Medicine. Because of this and my history of infertility, I was considered high-risk and monitored by a specialist throughout my pregnancy.

From week to week, everything progressed perfectly. At 32 weeks, during our routine specialist check-up, I was diagnosed with severe Polyhydramnios, a condition of excessive amniotic fluid that affects 1% of pregnancies. Some of the known causes of polyhydramnios include ( via Mayo Clinic):

• A birth defect that affects the baby's gastrointestinal tract or central nervous system

• Maternal diabetes

• Twin-twin transfusion — a possible complication of identical twin pregnancies in which one twin receives too much blood and the other too little

• A lack of red blood cells in the baby (fetal anemia)

• Blood incompatibilities between mother and baby

• Infection during pregnancy

In fact, our hospital had seen an almost identical case a month earlier, which resulted in a stillbirth. All of a sudden, my fears came afresh and I started to panic. I began to question why I had even disclosed my pregnancy in the first place. BUT, God.

I kept repeating to myself that the God we serve would not bring this miracle, this ordained gift, after so many years, without a plan for His glory. Both our mothers (God bless them) encouraged us to stand firm in our faith and continue thanking God for the blessing.

I was ordered on bedrest and monitored by doctors every other day, with the hope that I could carry my baby to term (37 weeks) at the least. With each visit, the fluid around the baby increased, but, so did our faith. God did not bring us this far to put us to shame.

Image byBU! Fotos

At 37 weeks, (exactly a year after my last negative pregnancy test), our story changed. God delivered. Our son arrived.

Three days later, on Christmas Day itself, we brought our son home.

It has been 8 months since we welcomed our son. He's healthy, we're happy and God continues to deliver on His promises. Each and every day, we are reminded of God's greatness. We went through the fire and have come out victorious. The privilege of this miracle is not lost on me. I am merely 1 story out of millions of strong women who are waiting for their own breakthrough. A breakthrough, I now believe will come.

SO much can happen within a year. A year before I shared our story , I was fed up and absolutely over trying to conceive. Now a year after, our lives have transformed. The miracle I could not bring myself to picture has arrived. God delivers. I believe, and I need you to believe.

If you're out there, sick and tired of being sick and tired, and at the point you have identified as ground zero. I assure you, your story is not done. Not yet.

God bless every single person who has read my posts, said prayers, shared in our excitement. Our rainbow is here and the testimony is complete.

Our Infertility Story Pt 1

Our Infertility Story Pt 2

Our Infertility Story Pt 3

Right now.

Breathe out. Unclench your shoulders. Let your chest drop a little.

We’re in December now, and if you’re anything like me, this entire year has felt like one long breath holding spell. You’ve been waiting for clarity, carrying tension you didn’t sign up for, bracing for the next thing before you even finished the last.

A lot of us are functioning breath-holders so please, right now as you’re reading this- breathe OUT. Oya do it…

There you go.

Thank you.

It has been a couple of weeks, and I’ve had a few things sitting on my mind. So instead of a neatly tied “essay”, here’s a dump of my thoughts over the last month.

1. You don’t get to choose the manner in which your deliverance comes.

So, I wrote this down last week: When you ask God to deliver you from something (situation, a person, a mindset, a fear) you don’t get editorial control over the method. You don’t get to decide who He uses or how it unfolds. Sometimes the door you prayed would close gets slammed shut by someone else. Sometimes the “opportunity” disappears. Sometimes the thing you thought would anchor you drifts away.

And as wild as it feels, that is the deliverance.

It may not feel gentle. It may not feel like the “breakthrough” you imagined. In fact, it may hurt your feelings BUT if you’ve been praying for release and suddenly things start shaking loose… please accept the deliverance.

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2. You don’t even have the full picture.

This is NO shade, just truth. We most certainly do not have the full picture of our lives. We tell stories about our lives like we have all the information, but we’re still narrating from the middle. Yes, we know how things feel right now. We know what we want right now. But it’s still just a snapshot, not the whole arc. We don’t have a zoomed out view.

We make meaning from the part we can see.

We forget there’s a wider story unfolding.

And honestly I know first hand how disorienting it is to be inside a season you can’t see the end of. Crying and trying with no movement. Pushing forward and watching nothing shift.

It’s why what Jackie Aina said about manifestation resonated with me. We “manifest” from the limits of our current view. Our dreams are shaped by what we’ve experienced so far. Even our biggest desires are still small compared to the full picture.

So maybe the confusion you feel is just evidence that you don’t have all the information yet. In fact I saw another reel which I’ll share below where the woman said . I got scared “because I ain’t never been up that high”. We only know what we know right now.

And maybe what you’re praying for is a fraction of what’s coming.

3. Safety is the secret to exhaling.

I’ve been struck by how differently I breathe around people who feel safe. The friends who don’t require performance, who let me be honest without flinching, who hold space for the unedited version.

I’m honestly radical about friendship at this point. It amazes me how someone’s presence can settle you more than circumstances ever could. How a conversation, a laugh, or just sitting quietly with the right people can shift something inside you.

Have you seen all those videos on tiktok where someone is surprised by a friend’s visit and they almost melt and become kids again in pure joy? You can literally see them exhale and then get mindlessly excited. Whew! Friendship is a MINISTRY!!

See this video of Kelly Rowland being surprised by her friend Bresha Webb for instance

https://x.com/shaybeykelly/status/1997664858641187051?s=46

See joy now!!

Sometimes it’s not rescue you’re waiting for, it’s comfort through- a room, a person, a moment where your nervous system finally believes it can rest.

There’s an exhale that only comes from being seen without effort.

I know you know what I mean.

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4. There’s a difference between having peace and performing it.

If you’re like me, you’ve mastered the ability to look calm while your mind is doing gymnastics. You can function, you can encourage people, you can show up — all while feeling unsettled inside. My sistren, that’s not peace. That’s choreography.

Real peace doesn’t need an audience. It doesn’t require pretending.

That’s the goal we should be chasing. Pretense only prolongs the journey. I said this in my burnout discussion and it applies here as well.

5. Quiet seasons aren’t punishment — they’re recovery.

A quiet season can feel suspicious, like you must be missing something or falling behind. In fact, a lot of times we try to fill that silence with noise or “doings”.

But have we maybe considered that the quiet is the gift?. It could be the reset we desperately need. It’s time time we need to be able to see and hear what’s next.

Sometimes nothing is happening because you’re not supposed to be doing anything YET. You’re supposed to be recovering.

So if you made it this far, once again I ask - exhale! Don’t wait , exhale right now. We’re here. We don’t have the full picture but we have to trust that everything is working out for our good. Maybe we’re not the ones to win the lottery right now (oh oops I think that’s just my own thought lol). Everything is going to click the way it’s meant to. It must.

Thanks for indulging my brain dump this week. I pray we all have an amazing, revealing (in a good way) week.

Wait.. before we start, I want to pause and tell you where I’m writing this from. I shared at a conference this past week that I’ve been in active burnout for a year and a half, and the whole room gasped. LOL! I wasn’t trying to be dramatic. It’s TRUE! Unresolved burnout will LINGER for as long as it takes. It doesn’t just magically disappear if you haven’t figured out why the heck it is happening in the first place.

And I think that’s why the question (what fulfills you?) has been hitting differently for me. Burnout has a way of blurring everything together. You lose the ability to tell what’s draining you, what’s feeding you, what’s just routine, and what’s actually helping. Everything starts to feel the same.

So this season has really pushed me to interrogate things with more honesty. Sometimes burnout comes from doing too much. Sometimes it comes from doing too much of the wrong thing. Sometimes it’s from ignoring the season you’re in. Sometimes it’s lack of structure or support. Most times it’s a mix. Whatever it is o. It sha must be treated.

But i digress, let’s talk.

What Fulfills You?

This question is simpler than we think yet tougher than we think lol.

In Part One, we talked about what excites you. Those sparks that grab your attention or make you feel awake again. Excitement is the initial attraction. It gives you that first pull toward something.

Fulfillment on the other hand, is different and duh, it’s in the name. Full. Fill. It’s the feeling that stays after the activity, conversation, project, or moment is complete.

Excitement gets you through the door.

Fulfillment gives you a reason to remain in the room.

And honestly, a lot of frustration comes from expecting excitement to behave like fulfillment. They serve two completely different purposes.

Some of the things that excite me also fulfill me, but for different reasons. I get excited by ideas, conversations, planning something beautiful, creating experiences, connecting people, seeing something come together. Those moments energize me.

Fulfillment shows up when those same activities lead to impact or clarity. When I help someone understand something important. When a project aligns with my values. When the work feels like it’s building something real. When I know that what I contributed had weight. That’s when I feel full.

So for me, excitement is the spark. Fulfillment is the substance.

Same activities, different depth.

I want you to find your version too. So let’s try out a simple excercise to help you identify it clearly.

Finding What Fulfills You

1. What makes you continue?

Think about the things you return to without forcing yourself.

Write a short list and reflect on why they keep calling you back.

2. What stays with you afterward?

Fulfillment shows up after you finish something.

Look at recent moments that gave you a sense of calm, pride, or clarity.

What were you doing?

3. What clears your mind instead of cluttering it?

Some tasks leave you scattered. Others leave you focused.

Identify the ones that bring direction, not confusion.

4. What would still matter even if nobody commented on it?

This is one of the strongest indicators of fulfillment.

Write down a few things you would still do without acknowledgment or applause.

5. Where do you feel naturally responsible or useful?

Not burdened. Just naturally positioned.

Fulfillment often shows up in the areas where you feel trusted or called to contribute.

To give you context, here’s my list

I’m fulfilled when I’m building structure around someone’s next chapter: strategy, contracts, frameworks- and I can see the path open for them.

I’m fulfilled when my creativity helps someone bring a big idea to life: a launch, a project, a vision, even a celebration; and I get to help shape it into something real.

I’m fulfilled when my intuition and my legal mind work together, connecting dots that help someone move forward with confidence.

I’m fulfilled when I witness someone step into a version of themselves they didn’t fully believe they could be before we talked.

I’m fulfilled when I create a safe space for someone to explore their goals honestly, without performance or pressure.

OKAY now it’s your turn please.

As you move through this week, pay attention to what feels good after the moment is over; not the hype, but the settling. The things that stay with you and makes you feel like “yes, this was worth my energy.”

Then come back here to comment/reply to my email telling me… what fulfills you?

Whatever it is, be ready to give me your answer like Divine below.

@9jabackthenRemember Divine Oduduru? 😂😂😂 Divine Oduduru (born 7 October 1996) is a Nigerian sprinter specializing in the 100-meter and 200-meter dash.[8] He holds personal bests of 9.86 seconds for the 100 m and 19.73 seconds for the 200 m. Divine became an internet sensation after his participation in one of the races at the World Youth Championship in Donetsk, Ukraine. After the race, the young Divine was interviewed about how he felt about the race he had just taken part in. Divine responded by saying how happy and fulfilled he was. He also mentioned that “He never Expererit” meaning he never expected his brilliant perormance. This took the internet by storm and till date, “i never expererit” is still being used in expressions and during “funny conversations😂😂😂 ##9jabackthen##naija##naijamusic##naijamusician##naijathrowback##throwbacknaija##naijatiktok##naijatiktoksquad##naijatiktokers##tiktok9ja##9jatiktokers##cuffingseason##cuffitchallenge##cuffit##9jatiktok

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I just watched the Many People video from his new Fuji album, and wow. The nostalgia. It hit me like a brick- cracking open memories, scents, voices, everything. Suddenly I’m knee-deep in reminiscing about SO much.

Whew, this has now made me realize how necessary nostalgia is. How much it holds me together some days.

It even took me back to this girl from my middle school (technically “secondary school,” grades 7–12, but you get it). She transferred in and started almost every story with, “In my old school…” So, naturally, we nicknamed her In My Old School 😂. She just couldn’t help reaching back to what she knew. And honestly, I get it now.

That’s nostalgia in a nutshell, isn’t it? That constant reaching back to what once felt sure, the place you didn’t have to question.

For me, nostalgia takes me straight back to the nineties- to the “veranda” of the love of my life, my grandfather. I can still see it: the glow of late afternoon Fadeyi sun on our faces, both of us eating (I was always eating with him) and playing “Drafts” (is that what we call checkers now?) , while old and young Igbobi College boys walked by his street, seeing him and like clockwork shouting, “Up I say!” (their school chant) to him as they walked by. It’s me immediately ready to hear him respond with “Say! say! Say!” Before turning back to the board in front of him, completely unbothered by time. That’s where joy lived… in the ordinary, in hanging with my favorite person in the world and knowing I belonged to someone who adored me just as I was.

It’s tagging along with my mum to yoruba parties before she found Jesus (atink), watching the late Swing Paw Paw perform, and waiting to find out which musician was “on band” that day. Shina or Sunny??

It’s following her spiritual evolution too- from church to church lol TREM to Fountain of Life, or that CAC-adjacent LOJEMwhere I discovered my deep affinity for Yoruba worship and then of course the final boss- RCCG- all while also having to attend my dad’s African Bethlehem Cathedral😂 with their service entirely in Yoruba.

Nostalgia

It’s the birthday parties… my siblings and I practicing our dance moves before hand because losing the competition was not an option, and dreaming about what would be inside the “party pack”.

Nostalgia is memory, but it’s also a portal. It’s how I, a now chronic forgetter of names and details, can suddenly remember the exact scent in the air, the temperature of the room, the laughter, the light.

It’s safety. It’s softness.

It’s home before the world got loud.

And maybe that’s why we millennials love it so much. We are the generation of “remember when,” of throwback playlists, of reboots and rebrands and retro filters. We chase it- maybe because life has lifed. We’re circling or settling into 40, collecting responsibilities, griefs, and lessons like trading cards. So sometimes, it feels good to just live in the before.

Nostalgia, man.

As I’m writing this, I actually caught myself reaching for my phone, thinking I might have pictures to go with these memories… something to help me show what I mean. But of course, I don’t. There are no photos of those afternoons on the veranda or those sweaty dance floors. And yet, I can see it all so clearly. That’s the wild thing about nostalgia — it doesn’t need proof. It remembers for you.

Sigh.

Anyway, I had to get it out. Blame Adekunle Gold.

Now your turn - what makes you nostalgic?