Well, I come from a family filled with people of high intellect, my grandpa, my uncles, my aunts, my parents were all “bookies.” So, there was always the need to be the best when it comes to academics.

Right from primary school, I had always dominated in any school I found myself in. In fact, whenever it was time to collect results, I made sure to go to school early, cause I know parents were going to be looking for me.

You know those situations where parents say things like “look at her, does she have two heads” that was  what I constantly heard, and trust me, I was always delighted (i don’t know how those other kids always felt, terrible I guess).

Anyways, when it was time for high school, I got enrolled into Federal Government Girls’ College, Umuahia (when federal schools were still one of the best, i don’t know what it’s like now).

JSS1 came, I wasn’t picked to be the class prefect, and that was where my problems started. I was used to leading, I was used to teachers singing my praise, but here, no one knew me.

So, I went on a revenge mission.

My goal was simple— turn my form teacher against my class prefect, make him see that I was the best for the job and then, move to being the best in the class.

I’m not going to go into the seemingly embarrassing details about how I did that, but trust me, I was plotting evil wayyy too much for someone who was barely 9 years old.

Infact, let me tell on myself.

There’s this monitoring sheet that was given to class prefects, for teachers to sign when they actually come to teach us, and it was to be submitted daily to reduce the chances of interference. Well, one Tuesday morning, I saw the monitoring sheet on my class prefect’s desk, she probably left it there in a hurry. I took it, squeezed it, stepped on it to make it look messier and I mobilized two of my classmates to join me to report to my form teacher about how careless the class prefect was(mind you, none of them knew that I was the one who orchestrated such barbaric act).

Anywayssss, to the main thing I wanted to write about— Academic validation.

After the term came slowly to an end, after all I tried(I guess I didn’t try enough), my name wasn’t called among the first-three students in my class. I almost cried at the assembly ground. So, I promised myself that I would stop at absolutely nothing to be the best in my class.

When we came back for second term, I fought with my seatmate(let’s call her C), so much so that our teacher felt the need to swap our seats, and when the time came (somehow, I knew), I deliberately stood on my toes, so I’d appear taller and my major aim was to sit beside J (the best student in my class at the time).

Somehow, it all worked. I don’t know how my teacher knew what I was thinking, but he switched my seat and I was with the best student in my class!

You’d think I stopped there righttttt?

NO, I didn’t.

I started following her every step, this girl was soooo diligent in her studies. Once a teacher left the class, she immediately starts reading what the teacher taught, and during free periods, she goes to the library, not to read novels oo. To read actual textbooks. This was quite new to me, but I was determined and so I followed her.

I also made sure she liked me as a friend. I was always sharing my things with her, gisting her, telling her how much we had in common.

First continuous assessment came, and we practically wrote it together (what I mean is this— when I’m done writing before I submit, I kinda cross-check my work with hers, and since it was just 4-5 questions, it was easy).. This was my first step towards domination.

Of course, there were times that invigilation was sooo tight that I couldn’t do the usual. So, I stuck to trusting my own (dumb) brain.

The results of the assessment came out, and I came second while she came first. I was sooooo delighted, I couldn’t contain my joy.

My mother taught chemistry in my school(so, I ran to her office and she was smiling and telling me how much I had to do better to become the best in the whole set and not just my class). Mind you, we were well over 350 students at the time😭

Anyways, plan 2 got activated. I already knew my strengths and my weaknesses as well as J’s strength and weaknesses. So my goal again was simple, capitalize on my weakness and exploit her weakness. I’ll tell you how.

So, my weakness was math for the most part, and hers was anything that had to do with explaining too much, things like civic education and the rest. During math test, I made sure to cross-check my work with hers, but during civic test, I feigned being overly watched by the invigilator.

If you have a brain, you should be able to work out what I was doing..

It’s such a wonder how I was only 9, and I was plotting all these in that tiny brain of mine.💔

I feel oddly naked telling this story.

Well, results were called for the second assessment and somehow, I came first while she came second.

My goal was now complete.

I knew the steps to take to maintain the position, I knew my weaknesses and hers too.

So, I felt I had what it took to be self-sufficient. I stopped asking to cross-check my work during exams and all that. At the end of the term, I had come second. I wasn’t entirely happy, but then I was a bit satisfied.

Third term came, and I put in every single thing in me to make sure I came out at the top, and I did. Words cannot explain how fly I felt when my name was called out as the first in JSS1C during assembly.  Mind you, this was a product of my deceit.💔

I think i’m going to make this into a series, cause I can’t write everything in one big swoop.

I’ll send in another part in the evening.

1. I am an unapologetic feminist.

   This has to be number 1– I identify as a feminist even before my name.😂😂

   Now, I don’t care how feminism has been misconstrued, I will always stand for equality across all genders.

   The ultimate goal of feminism is to allow women to have choices that isn’t dictated by social conditions and cultural expectations.

   i also do not believe in this new wave of feminism that preaches— “use the patriarchy” in other words, sap men of their money because you’re trying to be liberal. My reason is simple— we would just be pandering to the very thing we’re trying to eradicate.

2. My name is Nkwuda-Chukwuma Amblessed Adachukwu.

   I hate telling people my name because of two reasons: It’s too long and also, my first name is a grammatical error cause wtf is Amblessed. It should be I’m blessed.😭😭

1. I am from Ebonyi State.

I get extremely pissed when I randomly mention that I’m from Ebonyi State, and someone casually says “Oh, you’re too pretty to be from Ebonyi state, where did you grow up?”

I’m just gonna kill someone one day😡

1. I am a medical student with barely 18 months until graduation (by God’s grace).

This has to be the least interesting thing about me, at first I was a little bit excited to study medicine even though I initially wanted to study economics cause I just loved it and I loved Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala too. But omo, African parents and their undying love for professional courses.💔

1. I love photography.

This is a skill I’m trying to explore right now. At first, I took pictures for free, just because I loved the art. However, a lot of people nudged me to turn it into a profitable business because of how good I was at it without any formal training.

Backstory: my grandfather was a photographer (as a side hustle), my father did photography at some point too. So, I think it’s actually a family thingy, lollll😂😂

1. I love my family so much.

You truly know the type of family you have when you enter what Nigerians call “GBESE.”

Hmmmmm, Omo. That was sha when I knew that my extended family, despite their flaws will stop at nothing to keep the family name from being dragged through the mud.

Another reason I love my family is because they love to “jolly.” This is another word for enjoyment galore, parties and what not.

There’s always something to celebrate in my house. Christmas (particularly when I travel to the village) is my favorite part of the year, all thanks to BILLYMAN’S DYNASTY.❤️

1. I have chronic asthma.

I know they always say we shouldn’t allow our diagnosis define us. But c’mon nowww. The doctor told me I’d outgrow my asthma.

Btw, my aunt is 50, and she still cannot survive a day without her inhaler, and I know that’s the path I’m probably going to take, but heyyyy, it’s not that bad right????

This is one of the few things I hate about myself.

1. I have mild hypertension.

Doc: you’re too young to be on anti hypertensives, so we’ll just monitor you very closely and I’ll give you something to take for a short while, let’s see if your blood pressure will return to its basal level.

Well, I have a second degree family member with hypertension. I haven’t told a soul in my family about the doctor’s findings, only because I don’t want them to worry so much about it.

PS: I hate talking about my health, but who am I without my several diagnosis?

1. I have one million allergies.

I’ll just list my allergies and what happens when I’m exposed to them. Goat meat- I wheeze, and may pass out depending on how much I eat. Garri-my face, eyes and body swells real badddd and afterwards, I have severe itching and hives everywhere.

Grass- makes me sneeze uncontrollably. Dust-sneezing and wheezing. Detergent- crazy sneezing. Smoke- wheezing. Cold weather conditions-my neck itches so much that I injure myself. Hot weather conditions- I wheeze. Laughing hard- I go into respiratory distress.

There are a lot more allergies but let me stop here.

1. I hate disloyalty.

I can forgive anything, but disloyalty. If you’ve ever been disloyal to me, just run very far away from me. Because when I eventually remember you, eh😂, even the devil will cry for mercy. And I’m this way because I know how much effort I put in, so I’d not be disloyal to people I call my own.

All these and more we ask, through Jesus Christ our lord, Amen.😂

OREMISEXUALSSS????

Sounds weird rightttt????

I meannnn, we’ve heard of demisexuals, sapiosexuals, pansexuals, omnisexuals and like 100 other “sexuals.”

But OREMISEXUALSSS??

THAT WE DON’T KNOW. 😭

Coined from Yoruba and English language-

Ore mi- meaning my friend.

Sexual- well, we know what it means.😝

That being said, an Oremisexual is basically someone that says “if I’m ever going to have sex, I’d rather do it with my friend!”

So, late last year I had thoughts of losing my virginity but the biggest problem wasn’t even Should I?

It was— to whom? And whyyy?

Well, after so much thoughts I decided that if (at all) I was going to do that, it’d definitely be with someone I trust.

Notice how I didn’t say “someone I love”

You know why?

How sure am I that it’s love??

I mean for all I care it could be infatuation rightttt???

Maybe I might even genuinely love the guy, but he doesn’t feel the same way.

And we all know what happens when love is one-sided.💔

But you see trust????

Trust goes way beyond those bullshit.

Trust basically means,

I know this person.

I can communicate with them.

I know they WILL respect my boundaries.

I know how they behave.

Infact, Trust is ALMOST ALWAYS a two-way street.

And so, yes. I decided my first time must be with someone I TRUST.

Now, I want to believe we all know the entirety of what having sex entails.

It involves your whole spirit, soul and mortal body. 😂

You’re basically gonna be sharing a lot of bodily fluid, and as a medical student in her penultimate year (clock itttttttt), I’ll be delighted to bring to your notice the ONE MILLION AND ONE disease you could get from someone else’s bodily fluid.

At least for one, HPV, the popular Human PapillomaVirus of which some strains can predispose women to CERVICAL CANCER😢

I’m pretty sure no one wants that!

There’s also HIV, Herpes, Hepatitis and the rest😭

Anywayssss, where was I?

Ahannnnn, TRUST.

So, if you’re going to be exchanging bodily fluid with anyone, it should be with someone you know in and out, that wouldn’t necessarily transmit unwanted things to your body.😂😂

Again, who best to do this with than a friend you’ve known for yearrrsssss…

Now, let me make it crystal clear,

When you start talking to someone new (romantically), they tend to hide certain parts of themselves from you, especially the parts they think you wouldn’t approve of.

But you see your friends???

Your friends that were almost never actually romantically interested in you in the first place, they have almost no need to be performative.

So, more often than not, you’re gonna know about their spiritual life, their sexual history, their health history and all that there is to know.

I(’m saying spiritual life cause some people believe sex is spiritual).🫨

Cause I meannnn, no one wants to have sex for the first time and you’d start running to the hospital to take POST-EXPOSURE PROPHYLAXIS FOR HIV.

Or would you want that?😭😂

Alsooooo, I know people often say things become awkward after you have sex with a friend.

Dare I say, contrary to popular belief, things get relatively smoother as long as communication was present in the first place.

For eg: Me and Jack agree that we’re going to have sex.

Not because we want to get romantically involved.

So,

We’re not dating.

We’re not suddenly obsessed with each other.

We’re not changing the dynamics of our friendship.

Our Boundaries??? DISCUSSED.

Expectations??? DISCUSSED TOO.

So, where exactly will the confusion arise from?

Infact, I actually think the problem isn’t “sex with friends.”

It has to be the unspoken expectations that come afterwards!

You have sex once,

Mr A says: Good morninggggggggg fine girllll❤️

Miss B says: Good morning!

Suddenly, there’s a rift.

But the possibility of this happening if there was clear communication in the first place, will be dangerously LOW!

As long as you communicate,

And you know what this does??

It reduces Expectations!

REDUCED EXPECTATIONS REDUCES DISAPPOINTMENT!

And pleaseeeeeee, before the moral policemen on substack start attacking me.😒

I’m not saying everyone should go and have sex with their friends ooooo.😂😂

I’m just saying there’s nothing inherently wrong with choosing a trusted friend as the person with whom you’d have your first sexual experience, as long as there’s consent, emotional preparedness and honesty.

Infact, the head and tail of this article is to let you know that it’s very okay to have sex with your friend, and it’s safer, especially with one you know and trust.

That being said, if I’m ever ready to lose my virginity, it MUST be with someone I trust.

Most likely my husband (who will definitely be my friend before he’s my husband).

But yeahhhh, that’s food for thought for y’all.😂😂

STOP DEMONIZING OREMISEXUALISM TODAY.

Have you ever had a friend who never showed up for you when you needed them the most??

Yes?

No??

Well, if that friend was me, this article is FOR YOU!

I’m writing this article with so much pain in my heart, a type of pain that I can’t seem to fully exhaust. There’re actually moments when it feels lighter but whenever I see my friends?

It all comes rushing right back!

I have a confession.💔

I am a bad friend!😔

Yeahhhh, I said that.

There’s no sugar coating it.

I know your heart might be filled with wild imaginations.

“Maybe she stole her friends’ boyfriend?”

Or she set them up to be robbed?

Waittttt, did she actually kill her friends?

Just hear me out😭

I actually did sth wayyy worse!

Let me try to explain the very best way I can.

“Have you ever had a friend who never showed up for you when you needed them the most?”

Well, that’s meee.

You’re prolly wondering how we ended up here.😭(inserts that TikTok sound).

Now, I’ll tell you a story about my best friend.

I had a best friend from high school, she was one of the sweetest people I’d ever met. She always had my back no matter what went wrong.

I reallyyyyyy LOVED her.

Did I just say LOVED?

I still LOVE her please🥹💕

When we left high school, she had gained an admission into UNIZIK while I was doing my A’levels. And we were very much in communication.

One day, everything changed.

She lost her dad.

I know you’re prolly asking “What’s the correlation?”

Hold on!

I texted her on WhatsApp when I heard the news, so much for being a best friend😳

Cause why couldn’t I call?

Well, moving on.😭

She cried when we spoke,

I cried too(just not while I was on the phone with her).

At this point you’re prolly smiling and saying

“Awwwwwnn, at least she was there” 🤡

Wellll, I cried not because I understood what losing a parent felt like but because I couldn’t bear the thoughts of my best friend crying.

I know at this point you’re thinking I prolly did my best right????

WRONG!

That was the first and last conversation we had💔

I never called to ask how the funeral preparations were going.

I never checked on her cousin (who at the time was my friend too).

I never checked on her mother nor her siblings.

I never even called maybe weeekssss later to ask after her.

If you were her,

Wouldn’t you curse me to have a miserable life?

July 2nd is that day on the calendar that I desperately wish I could skip, because it’s her birthday and I remember how foolish I was, or still am.

I know you’d prolly think I changed after this whole incident right?

HELL NO!

Things only got worse.

For records sake,

I have severe social anxiety(which is counterintuitive for a debater, but yayyyy, here we are).

Anywayssss, life has happened to so many of my friends since then.😔

People have grieved,

People have gone through heartbreak,

People have failed exams,

And every single one of these time?

I actually cared very deeply.

But I’ve never known how to be there(show up).

Recently yeah? I had some friends who had a resit in the last examination we took.

I was sooo worried about every single one of them, to the extent that whenever I prayed, I mentioned every one of them and the courses they’d be writing and I genuinely begged God to help them.

Now, pardon me to ask the last question.

How many of my friends do you think I texted?

Just guess,

Tryyyyyyy

Four????

Three???

Maybe two??

Or at all at all, One of them right???

Well, guess what?

I NEVER REACHED OUT TO ANY.

Crazyyy rightttt????

At this point, you’d be thinking I’m just a witch who deserves no friend😢

Trust me, I believe so too.

I DON’T DESERVE MY FRIENDS.

THEY DON’T DESERVE MY CRUELTY.

However, if you’re a friend of mine reading this article, I need you to believe me.

I LOVE YOU and pleaseeeee don’t mistake my silence for hatred.

In my world, they aren’t the same.

Trust me, I’ve silently worried about you.

I’ve prayed consistently for you.

I’ve celebrated your little and big wins too, only from afar.

And no, I’m not trying to shy away from being accountable.

Infact, none of these things can ever replace showing up.

I’m REALLY SORRY for being a terrible friend.

I’ve thought about this at length,

Still, I can’t seem to understand why I’m this way.

I think it’s some sort of trauma response or maybe it’s the anxiety thingy. I really don’t know.

Again, this is just me putting my feelings into words, you may not necessarily gain any substantial thing from this article!

SHALOM.

Two days ago, my period started and I discovered I had run out of sanitary pads.

As any responsible babe would, I sprinted to the store down my street(mind you, I was already bleeding ooo and I just had a panty liners on).

Now, If you’re a girlieeee or a “boy with sense” you’d know panty liners can’t hold when you’re actively bleeding.

Wellll, I got to the store and met three grown-ass men standing there prolly buying groceries or sth, Honestly? I didn’t care that much!😂

All that was on my mind was that if I don’t get the sanitary pads and get home in time, I’d def see blood trickling down my legs and ewwww, I don’t want that— not bc I’d feel ashamed that my body is going through a normal physiological process but because I wouldn’t want the stress of having to wash my panties over and over again. Cause me??? I’d never trash my panties because of period stains!😌

Anywayyyysssssss,

Ignoring the 3 grown-ass men and speaking directly to the store owner who’s also a man btw; Good morning sir, I want xxx pads(name withheld for obvious reasons, lol)😂

STORE OWNER: Tries to shushhh me by hushing in a whisper (Shhhhh, let these men leave first).

EXCUSE YOUUUU????

My blood pressure rose immediately and it wasn’t my period😡

“Sir, give me pad abeg, make I de go house I no get strength for all these settings.”

I ignore his subtle warnings and continue loudly:

“Menstruation is a normal physiological process that goes on in women without which none of you standing here today would even exist”

At this point, I had successfully gotten the attention of the 3 grown-ass men, and I went ahead to educate them on why women shouldn’t be shamed for menstruating but ofc bad men will be men!

You wouldn’t believe that they tried convincing me that menstruation should be treated with the same level of privacy as MY VAGINA!

Arrggghhhhh!😭😭

At this point, I knew these men were past saving and unfortunately, my uterus wasn’t ready to hold on until I achieve social reform. Sooooo, I bolted😂😂

Ran all the way home while constantly praying that the 3 panty liners I stacked upon one another wasn’t entirely soaked😂 and these were my words— “Lord, let these panty liners perform wayyyy beyond their job description” (this is gonna be story for another day)!

I think I’ve lost the plotttttttt,

What was I writing about again???

CURRENT REACTION CAUSE I DIGRESSED!

Ahannnnn,

FAKE PADS!😔

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!!

I got home and obviously had my bath and used my pads, Guess what????

45 mins later, I was feeling my bum itching.

My BUMBUM oooo not my VAGINA!

Tbh, I thought it was prolly because I had been sitting on my chair (I was trying to read ECTOPIC PREGNANCY because med school is tryna humble me). Sooooooo, I did the craziest thing anyone can think of!😭

I stretched my hands towards my dresser and took my “Cussons baby oil.”

Special shout out to cussons baby oil!

Yesssss yesssss, what you’re thinking is absolutely right!

I poured some into my palm,

Rubbed my pretty palm together,

Applied it to soothe my itchy BUMBUM.

Problem solved. Yayyyyy🥳

Or so I thought😭😭

Few hours later, I wanted to have a bath and change my pads ofc and what I saw infuriated me!!!!

I HAD AN INJURY ON MY BUM BUM!!!!!!

AN ACTUAL INJURYYYY!!!

MY REACTION WHEN I SAW THE INJURY!

Mind youuuu, I never scratched it when it felt itchy ooo💔

I just used my oil😔

At this point, I did what every GenZ with a smartphone would do— I resorted to ChatGPT and I realized that I was most likely reacting to the pads I used😡

Imagine suffering because of fake sanitary pads😭

MY RESOLVE???

I have to start using “expensive” longrich pads just like my mother!

THE INFAMOUS LONGRICH PADS.

Mother, I’m sooo sorrryyy I didn’t see the light sooner😭 But then, what matters is that I’ve Paseen the light😂

I honestly don’t know why I’m telling y’all this story.

Guess I’m crying too much these days, and I just wanted to do what makes me happy— WRITING!

Until next time my loveeeeesssssss💕

So, I used to be that girl who never wore wigs.

Not because I didn’t like them—I just didn’t own any💔.

Then sometime last year, my sweet Mother bought me two really cute wigs(or so I thought).

They were beautiful, but I barely touched them because I was almost always on braids.

Fast forward to my Pathology and Pharmacology era—the trenches. I barely had time for myself and was rocking a rough all-back. One Monday morning, I looked at myself and thought,

“Why am I stressing when I literally have new wigs?”

So, I wore one to school.

Was I nervous? Extremely.

I know absolutely nothing about wigs, and my biggest fear was someone recording me and posting it on TikTok with the caption: “Sponge.”😭😂

Before heading to class, I stopped by a friend’s (Nnemi baby) apartment for reassurance.

She looked at me and said,

“You’re fine! The wig looks good on you.”

Confidence restored🌚💕

Soooo, I held my head highhh and hopped into my class like I owned it.

The rest of the day was filled with people saying things like,

“Wait… you wear wigs now?”

Or,

“You actually look nice!”

A few days later, I had already braided my hair(by then) and went for a CMDA meeting.

The moment I stepped into the hall, I ran into another friend.

Without warning and loud enough for other people to hear—she exclaimed:

“Ahhh! Thank God you’ve finally made your hair because that wig doesn’t fit you at alllllllll!”

I don’t think she realized what those words did to me.

The embarrassment was second to none.

Throughout the entire meeting, I couldn’t concentrate.

My mind kept racing:

Was that how everyone actually saw my wig?

Were all those compliments just people being nice?

Did my mum unknowingly buy bad wigs?

Was she scammed?

Because one thing I knew was that my mother wouldn’t intentionally buy something cheap.

When I got home, I brought both wigs out and stared at them like they had personally offended me😭😂

I inspected them from every angle, took countless pictures, and sent them to my brothers.

THIS IS THE SECOND WIG!

Because if there’s anyone who won’t sugarcoat the truth, it’s my brothers😭😂

Thankfully, they all said the same thing:

“You look good.”

“The wigs are fine.”

“The wigs definitely don’t look like sponge.” 😂

But somehow,

That one comment had already settled in my mind.

People always say,

“Don’t let other people’s opinions get to you.”

And yes, that’s true.

But let’s be honest—

Sometimes one sentence is all it takes to make you question something you were previously confident about.

Till today, every time I think of wearing those wigs, I still feel a little self-conscious.

I haven’t worn them since.

Maybe there isn’t a grand moral lesson here.

Or maybe there is.

Just try to be careful with your words.

What feels like a harmless opinion to you might become someone else’s insecurity for a very long time.

PS: I’ll be wearing the second wig to school tomorrow, so if you see me, tell me if you genuinely think it looks that bad!🫠

DISCLAIMER❌: I’m not posting this article to make anyone blush, rethink their choices or scream God when?😂. I genuinely just want to leave this here, so that some years from now, I can read this and remember exactly how I felt in this moment.

If there’s any lesson I’ve learnt from life, it’s that feelings can fade from memory, but words don’t!

Anyways, over to the “main discourse”😂

I’ve always been a big ass advocate of 🎵“What’s fun about commitment? we’ve got a life to live!🎵 agenda Don’t get me wrong o, I actually believed relationships were nice but I didn’t think it was nice enough to make me want to “reallyyyyy” consider marriage.

Then this man happened!

So about my man,

He’s light-skinned— not too light, but light enough that no one can call him dark😆

He’s also ridiculously handsome! I never fail to remind him anytime he sends a picture. His type of beauty, is one that makes you believe God was just trying to show off how good a sculptor he is💕

My babe is funny😂. Extremely funny. Tbh, I laugh the hardest when we’re together. He makes the most unhinged comments you can ever think of😂

But then, none of these things are actually my favorite thing about him.

My favorite thing about him is that I get to be me.

The loud me,

The opinionated me,

The smart-mouth me,

The goofy me,

Hell, the dramatic me!

I don’t have to shrink myself, have a split personality, or pretend not to know things so as not to intimidate him.

He loves the non-performative version of me that exist when no one but him is watching🥹

And honestly? That has made me love him even more.

I can’t even overemphasize how well he compliments me, how his face lights up whenever he sees me, or how he reactsss whenever I send a picture of me(even when I think the picture is ass).

Lately, I noticed something else— he’s started involving me in almost every decision he makes, whether it’s financial or otherwise.

He genuinely asks “Amby, what do you think?”

And the most beautiful part of it all? He actually listens!!!! He seeks and heeds to my advice🥹

Guyyyyysssssssss, do you know how surreal that feels?😩

Ohhh to be heard and seen❤️ (esp after experiencing my fair share of terrible men)!

Now, before anyone comes to the comments with “it’s only been 6 months” bla bla bla

Trust me, I know!

6 months isn’t forever.

Circumstances change,

Life happens.

But if I can be this happy for one wholeeeee yearrrr?

I’d honestly count it as a milestone😩

The other day, we somehow found ourselves talking about the kind of schools we’d want our children to attend.

Very random conversation right? I know I know😂

But I loved it because we realized we share similar ideas when it comes to grooming children and education.

And these little moments?

They’re the ones that made me quietly realize that we’re actually building something.

So yes…

Maybe I’m still in the honeymoon phase.

Maybe life will humble me.😂

Or maybe…

Just maybe…

It’ll not work out.

But then, I honestly think I’ve found my husband(When you know, you knowwwww)🎶.

I stood there, frozen, staring ahead. I knew the answer,  but I was terrified that somehow my answer was wrong and he’d realize how shallow I am and that I have no future in medicine and truly, I have been feeling a lot that way recently. 

Feedback is essential in medicine as it shapes clinical competence and ultimately, professional development. Effective feedback identifies strengths, highlights areas for improvement and fosters a culture of continuous learning. 

However,there is a thin line between constructive feedback and verbal abuse. When feedback becomes humiliating, it slowly fades into verbal abuse which does not only shatter the trainees confidence but also hampers patient safety.

From the oath of Hippocrates to the contemporary codes of professional ethics, medicine has been defined as a moral enterprise. 

Still, there is evidence of a “hidden curriculum” which is an unspoken rite of passage that conveys messages about hierarchy, power dynamics, and norms of professional conduct through observation and experience rather than formal learning.

Recognizing and addressing this hidden curriculum is very important in creating an environment that is focused on effective learning, ethical practice and patient safety.

       According to PubMed Central, verbal abuse is defined as a form of psychological or emotional maltreatment involving the consistent or sometimes single use of oral or written language to threaten, intimidate or shame an individual. 

Verbal abuse in medicine can come in so many forms, ranging from public humiliation during ward rounds to gender and ethnicity discrimination all of which poses a threat to the very core of medicine. 

       First, Public humiliation during ward rounds. 

More often than not, consultants use derogatory remarks such as: 

-“Did you go through pre-med?”

-“You surely paid your way through pre-clinicals!”

-“Are you sure you’re cut out for medicine?”

Such remarks shift the critique from performance to identity- a fallacy known as Ad hominem.

Instead of fostering intellectual growth, they demean competence, plant self-doubt and in the long run, it discourages intellectual risk taking and ironically stifles the “curiosity” medicine demands, making learning more passive, mistakes are hidden, interns become afraid to ask questions, communication breaks down all of which compromises patient safety. 

A study by the Yale School of Medicine reported that almost 90% of medical students reported experiencing at least one microaggression during their training. This alone proves that verbal abuse in medical training is not an isolated phenomenon but a widespread issue within medical education.

Also, Verbal abuse isn’t always loud, it can be subtle, as seen in Gender-based discrimination. Female medical professionals more often than not face exclusion from opportunities, biased evaluations and harassment.

Despite progress towards gender equality in medicine however, gender discrimination still remains a significant problem that doesn’t just affect the professionals but also, overall quality of patient care outcomes.

A research conducted on 165 female doctors in Rivers State reported that:

-72.7% of female doctors experienced harassment at work, often from colleagues or patients.

-67.9% faced insubordination from junior male colleagues, reflecting gender bias in the workplace.

Such discrimination has consequences that are significant, it causes psychological distress, distracts professionals from clinical tasks, forcing them to process the abuse. This contributes to emotional exhaustion, burnout, and mental health challenges among trainees. It also limits career development and causes inequity in healthcare institutions.

In addition to that, The Pedagogy of fear in Medical training- this is another subtle but damaging form of verbal abuse. It is a teaching approach in which humiliation and harsh criticism are used to enforce formal training creating an atmosphere of fear intended to push trainees to become better. While this may appear effective, it often crosses the line into verbal abuse.

It undermines teamwork within healthcare environment, discourages open dialogue and hampers collaborative decision-making which medicine heavily relies on. This increases the likelihood of clinical errors, thus jeopardizing patient safety and professional development.

It also leads to an endless cycle of abuse within the profession as trainees who experience this internalize the belief that such abuse is normal and is a necessary part of medicine, and so they unconsciously repeat such behaviors to their own trainees thus reinforcing the “hidden curriculum” of intimidation.

These profound consequences highlights the urgent need for deliberate effort towards curbing verbal abuse in medical training. First, Promoting constructive feedback- medical professionals should be trained to deliver criticism without humiliating trainees thus encouraging trainees confidence and curiosity.

There should also be implementation of clear policies and reporting systems to protects trainees from abuse. These channels must be confidential in such a way that trainees can report verbal abuse without fear of retaliation. This will help to reinforce professional accountability and get rid of the unnecessary power dynamics that encourages such behavior.

Senior physicians should also model empathy and respectful communication as it’ll help dismantle this hidden curriculum that encourages intimidation and replace it with positive mentorship that fosters learning and professional growth.

In the end, Feedback should challenge trainees to grow without diminishing their sense of worth. No trainee should have to stand in silence during ward rounds, frozen by humiliation rather than focusing on learning.

This noble profession, dedicated to healing, must ensure that future physicians are trained through respect and positive mentorship rather than fear.

There comes the moment you pause and ask yourself, why?

Why did it begin this way?

Why the constant pull towards the spotlight?

TRAUMA!

There goes your answer buried deep.

Trauma burns so quietly, persistently

that it eventually becomes “the norm”

One would ask, what sort of trauma creates this need,

The truth?

Many things do.

Things we do not talk about nearly enough-

Empty chairs at the table,

Love that came with conditions,

Conversations that never learned to stay.

Choosing to clear away these old burdens,

Is choosing “freedom”

And once you choose it,

Your first step towards freedom is taken.

There will be moments when the world closes in,

When you feel

As lonely as an echo with no wall

Still, you must keep pushing,

Keep fighting.

Because that’s the only way.

So, Take a breather-

It doesn’t have to be quick.

It will be slow.

It will be steady.

But in the end,

It will be worth it.

Before we delve into this, take a deep breath, open your mind’s eye and don’t be in a haste to write me off!

Now, to the main discourse!

If someone believes “all Muslims are bandits” simply because “some Muslims are involved in banditry,” that person isn’t demonstrating intelligence, they’re displaying is illiteracy and a failure in basic critical reasoning.

This is exactly the kind of hasty generalization fallacy the basic civic education teaches us.

Even in a democratic logic, where the majority often decides, the minority is never meant to be ignored.

Many people who boast about moral superiority forget a simple truth: You didn’t earn the religion or culture you have rn, Your environment shaped you long before you could form independent thought.

So, It is privilege wrapped in sanctimony that you were born into a Christian home.

It becomes even more ironic when Nigerians who cry out passionately against racial profiling abroad (“Black Lives Matter!” “Don’t judge us by stereotypes!”) turn around and replicate the same intellectual laziness at home.

They go ahead to say “All Muslims are bandits.”“All Northerners are militants.”

If we want to be taken seriously inside or outside our borders we must learn to think beyond tribal assumptions.

Maturity isn’t age; it’s the ability to resist lazy generalizations.

So yes,

Grow up.

Before now, I saw myself as “beautiful” and I didn’t stop to think anyone would think otherwise.

I have a round face, dark skin, and a pointed nose- the kind that makes people ask if I have Chinese ancestry. I also have somewhat pink lips, the type that everyone wants to have a taste of.

It all changed one day when a man that I had been involved with told me he didn’t find me physically attractive- and he meant it😆

At first it looked like it was just a joke- a subtle jab maybe; but after I looked into his eyes, he was as serious as a dead cat.

I started doubting myself, I looked at myself more in the mirror. I compared and contrasted myself with pictures of the babe he found attractive.

Still, I couldn’t understand.

I thought of myself as a work of art.

I became overly cautious when stepping out of my house, I started putting on subtle make-up just to “elevate my looks”. I even started making extremely elaborate hairstyles that made me uncomfortable, all bc I wanted him to “see me”.

That single sentence broke me in ways no one can ever imagine!

I stopped speaking in gatherings, stopped going out of my home altogether, cause I believed that’s what everyone prolly thought of me. And yes, I gave myself the cliché advice, that “beauty lies in the eyes of its beholder”. Still, it wasn’t enough.

On the other hand, I had this other man(that I didn’t like so much) telling me how I was the most beautiful dark girl he’s seen in a while. And whilst this made me happy,it simply wasn’t enough!

I learnt a lesson from all these- you can’t be seen as a plum when all (he) wants is a pear!

We have a friend- one we do not speak of nearly enough.

She does not always arrive as the kind of sadness that announces itself loudly, the kind the untrained eye can easily diagnose. More often than not, she is hidden- deep within our mind, quiet, patient, invasive.

She is a thief whose name you never learn, no matter how long she stays with you.

The things you once loved, once yearned for, lose their colour. Interests fade. The people who once gave you butterflies-those sensations go away, leaving behind an unsettling emptiness.

And do you know what is most baffling?

The pain is expertly masked behind a façade of exaggerated joy. You radiate warmth. You pour love into everyone you meet. They call you the bright and morning star, the one who gives life to all.

But when night comes, you bite your fingers in the dark, crying and screaming-not because you want to, but because pain is the only language your body understands at that hour.

Every night, you wish desperately that the hands of the clock could be turned back far enough that you never existed at all.

And here lies the true tragedy:

You try to reach out. You tell the people you love how exhausted you are. They call it bluff(not out of cruelty, but out of genuine ignorance).

Eventually, you stop speaking. Because speaking changes nothing and so silence becomes safer.

So you walk around carrying the weight alone, quietly contemplating the most painless way to disappear.

Then, after months of existing in a state of relentless turmoil, you are jolted back into reality.

You imagine the morning you leave.

You are in your room. Everyone assumes you are reading. No one wants to disturb you. A few calls come in, asking why you were not in school. When you do not answer the first call, they assume you are asleep, or simply indisposed. They wait for you to call back.

And your mother?

She calls to ask if you will be coming home for the festive season even if it is just for a day or two. At least to eat Christmas rice and chicken, served the way only an Igbo home knows how. She calls again and again. No response.

She grows uneasy, because no matter how strained things may be between y’all, you always take her calls. Fear settles in. She calls your brother and asks him to check on you.

He thinks she is overreacting. Decides to give you 30 more mins to “finish reading”

After 30 mins, he walks to your room. Your slippers are right where they always are, neatly placed by the door. He knocks softly. No answer.

He bangs harder this time, hoping to irritate you enough to scream his name (like every annoying brother does).

The door is ajar.

What he sees freezes him.

For the first 5 secs, he cannot move. You are there, lying in a pool of your own blood with the small blade resting beside your wrist. He shakes you violently, calls your name, but your body is cold- lifeless. He screams for help. Strangers rush in. You are rushed to the hospital.

Days pass.

Your mother now carries the unbearable weight of knowing she couldn’t save you. She consoles herself with the illusion that you are in a better place.

Your name slowly fades into the morning stars.

But you see that pain, the one that tightens your chest so-much-so that you feel you’re having a heart attack, it’d no longer be there, there’s peace.

But no one ever truly understands.

They call you weak. They call you foolish. Some say you’d be in hell. Others scream, “Lord have mercy.”

Rarely do they pause to consider that they never saw you- drowning in your own tears, fighting the most brutal battle of all: a war against your own mind.

And then somehow you notice the butterfly effect of a single decision. The ripples it would leave behind.

So you choose to keep fighting.

Not because you want to.

Not because you are strong.

But because you love your people so deeply that tuqburni- you endure.

Ciao.