i wrote this in my apple notes app today on my way back from the library, but as i got home, i decided i’d publish it on here, for posterity. btw, the photo above is a photo of me from september 2019, turned into art. i was writing as a way of studying.

i remember when i first started learning user experience design. i struggled to call myself a designer. the title felt like something i had to earn before i could comfortably claim to be one.

then i got into United Bank of Africa (UBA) as a Software Designer, and suddenly, the title stuck. there was something about being validated by an internationally recognised company that made it easier to see myself as what i had already been becoming.

six years later, i’ve worked in design across various industries and at Fortune 500 companies, solving problems, building products, and learning how to think through complexities. i’ve worked at deel, spleet, gotten an MA in user experience design from the prestigious University of the Arts London, and spent years designing at JPMorgan.

and now, i’m starting out once more, figuring out the ropes of what i believe is my strongest, yet most crude, talent: writing.

that’s the interesting thing about writing for me. it’s a skill i’ve used for years. i have a private newsletter with over 2,000 subscribers and a 60%+ read rate on every publication, but i’ve never really had to refine writing in the way i’ve refined design. writing has mostly been something i did because i enjoyed it, because i had something to say, and because i wanted to share my thoughts with whoever wanted to read them. i started on mailchimp in 2020, moved to flodesk, and eventually slowed down my publishing frequency until more than two years passed without my readers hearing from me. here and there, i still get emails from people telling me those letters are evergreen, asking if i’ll ever write to them again. well…

now i’m beginning to understand that it could be much more than that.

i want to sit in professional rooms discussing writing. i want to write stories that people can understand, feel, remember, and retell. stories that can eventually leave the page and become films. stories with enough depth to live beyond the moment in which they were written.

so i’m learning again.

i’m learning the craft. i’m learning the industry. i’m learning the business of writing, because as much as this feels like a high calling, it is also a craft that must feed me.

there’s something humbling about being a beginner again after spending years becoming competent in another field. but there’s also something exciting about it. i know what it feels like to grow into a profession, and i’m curious to see what happens when i give writing that same level of intentionality.

let’s see where this takes me over the next six years.

if you’re a writer who has successfully made a living from writing, i’d genuinely love to hear from you. what was the game changer in your process, the thing that helped you move from simply being good at writing to actually building a career around it?

by the way, if you’re in London, we’d love to have you with us. the Lord has promised us His presence and given us His word for this gathering so join us in person if you’re around the city! you can register here, and this is the poster right below.

as i was about to drift off, the spirit of the Lord took my mind on a journey through the scriptures and we came to the story of Joseph. He was teaching me on faithfulness.

interestingly, i had just come out of a long fast and my body felt like it was failing. i was exhausted, but as i reflected on Joseph, i realised the Lord was speaking to my own situation through His word.

as we thought together on the story, He brought me to Psalm 105, one of my favourite chapters in the Psalms. Specifically verse 19, “…until what he had said came to pass, the word of the Lord tried him.” from the verses before, we see that the Psalmist was referring to Joseph.

what Joseph had seen in the dream in Genesis 37 that mirrored his future was the word of the Lord to him. i believe that word stayed with him in a way that through his different experiences, he’d remember again what he saw.

if the Lord has ever spoken to you through dreams, you may understand what i mean. some dreams are more than dreams. they’re encounters; they feel like reality, and they stay with you in a way that you know they carry a certain weight of destiny. it’s the weight of God’s word. and from Psalm 29, you know it’s heavy.

and so, the Word of the Lord set him on a journey that led him through betrayal, slavery, false accusation, prison, and also years of waiting. the word put him in chains.

part of that journey was the story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife. she tried to get Joseph in her bed day after day, consistently insisting that he lay with her, and just one day when he went into the house to carry out his duties, she saw that no other man was in the house and seized the opportunity to once again ask Joseph to lie with her, only that this time when he insisted on his NO, she caught his garment and i can imagine the dread in Joseph’s heart to have released his garment, and ran.

he could have said, well no one would know. he could have also thought about the fact that this woman could get him in trouble if he pursued otherwise. people rarely become vindictive overnight. the signs are often there, hidden between the lines and revealed through repeated actions. in fact, someone like Potiphar’s wife seems to me like a person who has at different points looked outside of their marriage for this sort of pleasure.

Joseph saw his actions in relation to God before he saw them in relation to people.

“There is no one greater in this house than I, nor has he kept back anything from me but you, because you are his wife. How then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?”

He loved and respected Potiphar to not lay with his wife, but the ultimate offence in his mind would be against the One he loves, the One his heart beats for, his God. that was a display of faithfulness.

refusing Potiphar’s wife cost him his reputation, his position and even his freedom. compromise was the safer option, but God was worthy of His obedience. all of this was happening to him because a word had set him on a journey beyond his father's house, to an unknown land, and somewhere in the midst of all of that into chains.

this also reminded me of Apostle Paul. on many accounts, his zeal for the word of God and the spread of the good news put him in chains, and one day in the midst of all that, he made a profound statement in his writing to Timothy. he said, though in chains, the word of God is not bound.

as long as the Word of God, whom Revelation reveals to us as Jesus, is not bound, then He is also the basis for our absolute freedom.

the word of God that put you in chains will also set you free. like Joseph. after the word tried him, the king sent for him. in what seemed like an overnight transformation, Joseph went from prisoner to prince. lord of the house of Pharaoh, ruler of all his possessions, even teaching wisdom to the elders in the land. the very word that had tried him became the word God fulfilled.

the Word of God that put you in chains will also set you free.

p.s – here is the registration link to saturday’s event in London, icymi.

xx

I love the life the Lord has given me. There is a sacred, unfolding newness to it each day, something I could never manufacture for myself. But let me tell you how God delivered me from a particular kind of darkness.

There was a season when I often felt deeply overwhelmed by my own life. On the surface, things were fine, even good, yet beneath it all, something was quietly unraveling. On certain days, without warning, a heavy, suffocating burden would descend on me. It was not fleeting sadness. It felt like a verdict, like a sentence of death. In those moments, I would despair even of life itself.

If I had not known that taking one’s life is sin, I may have considered it. If I had not carried the reverent fear of God in my heart, I might have tried to escape the weight by my own hand.

Sometimes, I would reach out to a friend or two and tell them how I felt. But even then, I softened it. I would laugh midway through the conversation, diffusing the intensity so they would not feel the full weight I was carrying. I cared too much to let my heaviness become theirs.

Because the truth is, emotions are not contained things. They are transferable. They move. They spill. And when I felt the dense weight of sadness, I could not bear the thought of placing that same weight on someone else. So I learned how to make my pain sound lighter than it was. No one quite knew how deep it went. But it went deep.

Then came a particular Sunday.

It was an ordinary day, or so it seemed. I wore a beautiful, well-patterned, multi-layered blue dress. I remember the quiet joy I felt twirling in it, the lightness of movement, even as I danced and shook my small waist before the Lord. Some Sundays, I stay home to pray and study, sitting quietly with the Word. Other Sundays, I long to gather with the brethren. This was one of those days.

In the middle of worship, the choir leader lifted a song that would mark my deliverance.

🎶“Because He lives, I can face tomorrow,
because He lives, all fear is gone,
because I know, He owns my future,
my life is worth living just because He lives.” 🎶

As I sang those words, again and again, something shifted within me. It was not gradual. It was immediate. I knew, with a deep and undeniable certainty, that this was it. This was my deliverance.

It felt as though precious oil had been poured over my head, running gently down my face and settling into the fabric of my dress. It felt like the dew of Hermon descending upon the mountains of Zion. A quiet, holy saturation.

And in that moment, I knew.

The overwhelming weight that had once made life feel utterly burdened had met its end. The despair that once hovered so close had lost its voice. I understood, fully, that I live because Jesus is alive. I have no reason to give in to a negative sentence because the One I have surrendered to is alive. My life is held, secured, and authored by Him.

And this life, this beautiful, God-given life, is undeniably worth living. What a joy!

But more than that, I understood what had happened.

It was not just a song. It was not just a moment in worship.

It was Truth, Truth I had known for so long, becoming alive in my heart in a way it never had before. What I had sung many times before, I was now encountering.

Because He lives was no longer just a lyric. It was a reality that reached into the deepest parts of me and silenced everything that once spoke against life.

And perhaps that is how God meets us sometimes. Not always through something new, but through something familiar, until it becomes revelation.

I live because Jesus is alive.

There is a quiet frustration many people experience but struggle to articulate, and it often lives in the space before a relationship is named. It is undefined, unlabelled, and sustained mostly by what people like to describe as vibes. On the surface, this can feel freeing, like a deliberate choice to avoid unnecessary pressure. In reality, it often becomes one of the most emotionally disorienting spaces to exist in, because the absence of definition does not remove expectations. It only makes them invisible.

A common belief is that labels create pressure, which is why many people avoid them. What actually happens is far less ideal. One person quietly develops expectations while the other insists they have none, and both people end up operating on entirely different emotional contracts. This is where the exhaustion begins, because every action now requires interpretation. Simple interactions start to carry disproportionate weight, and questions arise that have no stable answers. It becomes difficult to tell whether something is meaningful or casual, whether you are asking for too much or simply asking the wrong person. Clarity does not complicate connection. It reveals whether there is alignment to build on at all.

One of the harder truths in these situations is that someone can be drawn to you, admire you, and genuinely enjoy your presence while still not be willing to meet you in a real and committed way. They engage with the idea of you rather than the responsibility of you. The distinction becomes evident in behaviour, because real affection is not abstract. It shows up consistently. It leaves little room for confusion. When someone genuinely cares, there is a steadiness to how they appear, and questions, when they arise, are not driven by uncertainty but by a desire to hear confirmed what is already felt.

There is also a more subtle dynamic that often goes unaddressed. Intelligence, eloquence, and strong critical thinking skills do not eliminate the possibility of manipulation. In some cases, they make it easier. This does not always manifest as intentional harm. It can show up in how situations are reframed, how accountability is redirected, or how a narrative is adjusted in ways that leave the other person questioning their own experience. Because the delivery is often composed and reasonable, it becomes difficult to challenge, and even harder to trust one’s own perception. Yet the impact remains legible. There is a kind of confusion that is not born from complexity but from instability, and the two are not the same thing.

At its core, affection is not ambiguous. There is a way someone who feels something real will act toward you, and it is usually perceptible without excessive interpretation. If you find yourself constantly decoding rather than simply feeling, it is rarely because you are incapable of understanding. It is because nothing stable has been offered to understand.

In some instances, the breakdown of a connection is not simply about a lack of care or awareness, but about the preservation of identity. People can become more concerned with not being perceived as the villain than with actually behaving well within the relationship. The focus shifts from whether they were kind, honest, or present to whether they can still be seen as a good person in the overall narrative. These are not equivalent concerns, and prioritising the latter tends to produce interactions that feel emotionally hollow even when they appear outwardly graceful.

There is also a pattern of self-sabotage that can emerge, particularly in those who are more comfortable with control than vulnerability. For such people, it can feel safer to manage a disappointing outcome than to risk a genuinely good one that requires openness. They keep things undefined. They maintain emotional distance. They ensure there is always room to exit without consequence, and in doing so, they preserve a sense of control while preventing any meaningful depth from forming. Ambiguity, in this sense, is not accidental. It is a strategy. They would rather hold an obstacle at arm’s length than discover that without it, the feelings they have carefully managed might ask something of them.

There are moments that stay with you regardless. A conversation saved somewhere you thought no one would find. A photograph moved somewhere private, not to deceive but because you were not yet ready to let go. These small acts of holding on are not dishonesty. They are the evidence of how much you were willing to feel, even when it was not being met.

Not every connection is meant to last, and not every ending is a failure. Some experiences exist to reveal what you are capable of giving, what should no longer be tolerated, and what clarity looks like when it is absent. Endings are uncomfortable, but they are not inherently shameful. In many cases, they are the most honest resolution available when alignment is missing.

Any dynamic that consistently produces anxiety, confusion, or a version of yourself that is smaller than you actually are is not one to be romanticised, regardless of how much promise it once held. Intensity is not the same as meaning. A good beginning does not guarantee a sustainable continuation. Clarity, consistency, and a sense of peace are not excessive demands within a connection. They are the baseline

What is one life lesson that stood out to you in your 20s?

The responses opened up deep conversations about comparison, social media pressure, adult friendships, faith, personal growth, and trusting God's process.

We discuss why comparing your journey to others can be dangerous, how social media can distort timelines, the reality of maintaining friendships as an adult, and the importance of trusting God's timing in every season of life.

This episode is an honest reflection on the messy, beautiful journey of navigating your twenties.

Topics discussed in this episode:• Lessons people learn in their 20s• Social media and comparison• Adult friendships and intentional relationships• Faith, prayer, and trusting God’s promises• Why growth takes time• Why life eventually gets better

If you're currently in your twenties or reflecting on that season of life, this conversation will resonate deeply.

 Join the conversation:What is one lesson your 20s have taught you?

Subscribe for more honest conversations from the Rugged & Real Podcast.

Key Ideas Discussed:

The Struggle of Perception in Tech: We discuss the unique challenges of being a woman in tech, especially when looking young can lead to others not taking your expertise seriously.

The Engine of Execution: Discover why Grace (God's enablement) and Faith (your belief to act) are the inseparable duo required to move from conceiving an idea to actually "birthing" it.

The Talent Trap: A deep dive into the Parable of the Talents, focusing on why the master gave according to ability and why the greatest sin of the third servant was burying what he perceived as "small."

Nothing is Small Until Called Small: We challenge the habit of comparison, showing how "minor" skills like writing, social media management, or even making "puff puff" can be magnified by God to bring you before kings.

Are you sitting on a gift because you think it's not "big" enough? It's time to unearth it.

In this episode, we explore how God answers our prayers and the different ways His responses may show up in our lives. We talk about what it truly means to receive God's answer, and how our perspective and perception shape our ability to recognise it.

We also examine the importance of having expectations when we pray by staying, waiting or acting in faith. How do you identify when God is doing a new thing? What must you release from the past to fully step into what He is unfolding?

This podcast conversation is an invitation to pray with conviction, act with wisdom, and trust God deeply in every season.

TOPICS COVERED IN THIS EPISODE:

1. How God answers our prayers

2. How to receive God's answer to our prayers

3. Having expectations towards your prayers

4. How to identify when God is doing a new thing

5. Letting go of the old to receive the new

6. How to respond when things seem delayed

7. Practicing stillness to see what God has done

8. Waiting for the appointed time

When your closest friend and counselor becomes your enemy.

When you struggle to see yourself the way God sees you.This episode gets honest about the parts of faith we rarely talk about.In Episode 2 of Rugged & Real, Dede and Derin unpack the complex emotions that can accompany obedience, the biblical warning of Ahithophel and betrayal from within, and why it's important to also know yourself by the spirit of God.This conversation is reflective, confronting, and deeply practical.📖 Book recommendation:"Broken Pieces in Jars of Clay" by Derin Adenireguna powerful book about how God makes greatness out of what you consider broken. Get it here: https://bio.site/Aderinsola25Follow the hostsDede – @derinmama (instagram & twitter)Derin – @derintheking (instagram & twitter)Podcast Instagram – @ruggedandrealpodFor feedback, questions, etc, email us at ruggedandrealpod@gmail.com

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ABOUT RUGGED & REAL PODCAST:Rugged & Real is a faith-based podcast hosted by Dede and Derin, two friends committed to transparent conversations about walking with God. Our mission is to equip believers with biblical wisdom they can actually apply, normalise the struggles of the faith walk, and remind every listener that you are not alone.© 2026 BeIconique Media | Rugged & Real Podcast

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TOPICS COVERED: when God answers but you feel nothing, complex emotions in faith, achievement without celebration, don't know yourself by the flesh, how God sees you, identity in Christ, Ahithophel and David, friends who become enemies, biblical wisdom on betrayal, praying for light, exposing hidden enemies, spiritual warfare, guarding your heart, bitterness in friendship, despising God in your midst, gratitude check, El Roi the God who sees, Christian mental health, faith and emotions, authentic Christianity, vulnerable faith conversations#RuggedAndReal #ChristianPodcast #AhithophelWarning #FriendsWhoBecomeEnemies #IdentityInChrist #DontKnowYourselfByTheFlesh #PrayForLight #SpiritualWarfare #ComplexFaithEmotions #AuthenticFaith #BiblicalWisdom #ChristianBetrayalAdvice #ElRoi #FaithWithoutFilters #ChristianMentalHealth #GuardYourHeart #BlackChristianPodcast #WomenOfFaith

We're Dede and Derin, two friends who've been navigating the faith walk in different cities but with the same heart to follow Jesus authentically.

This introduction episode is your first glimpse into what Rugged & Real is all about. We're here to discuss the ruggedness of the faith life, what it actually means to follow the Lord when social media isn't watching.

We're anchored in Scripture (not opinions), led by the Holy Spirit (not trends), and committed to transparency (not performance).

What you can expect from this podcast:- Real conversations about real faith struggles- Biblical wisdom applied to everyday life- The practicality of walking with God- Stories of rugged perseverance through trials- A community where you don't have to pretend

Follow us on Instagram @ruggedandrealpod and join the conversation.

New episodes drop every Friday.

Subscribe today so you don't miss them!Hosted by Dede and Derin

Stay real. Stay rugged