Turns Out I'm Not Actually Wonder Woman (Plot Twist!)

Who knew?

Hey beautiful humans,

I know it's been a hot minute since you all heard/read from me. Truth be told, ya girl has been going through it — insert crying emoji and violins. Adulting has really been doing gbas gbos gbas to your girl (for all my non-Nigerian readers, that means life has been beating me 10 ways to Sunday). Like somedays I’m like how do people my age have children?? I AM CHILDREN!

What’s funny is that if you’d seen me over the past few months, you would’ve thought the complete opposite. I’ve been travelling, meeting up with friends, etc. But that’s why you can’t judge a book by its cover — because physically I was fine, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually???

BRUH.

Let me paint you a picture.

You know those action movies where the hero gets shot but keeps fighting? They’re limping, blood dripping everywhere, but somehow still kicking butt and saving the world?

Yeah, that’s been me — except instead of saving the world, I’ve been showing up to work, posting content, mentoring, showing up for my community... all while internally my soul was doing the emotional equivalent of the Macarena in a tornado.

Here's the thing about being a high-functioning overthinker (yes, that’s a technical term I just made up): you get really, really good at wearing masks.

Not the pandemic kind—though those were easier to take off—but the psychological ones:

The “I’m fine” mask. The “I’ve got this” mask. The “Look how well I’m adulting” mask.

The wild part is how good we get at this performance. And here’s where it gets psychologically juicy: the more I performed being okay, the more I believed my own performance. It’s like Stockholm syndrome — but make it self-improvement culture.

I became addicted to the validation that came from being "the strong one." People would say things like "I don't know how you do it all," and instead of hearing concern, I heard applause. I was getting high off my own dysfunction, treating my burnout like a personality trait. And don't even get me started on how exhausting it is to maintain spiritual performance—every "I'm blessed" when you're stressed, every "God is good" when you're questioning everything.

But here's the thing about bleeding while producing—it's not sustainable, and more importantly, it's not authentic. You can only run on fumes and stubbornness for so long before your body sends you an invoice you can’t ignore. Mine came in the form of waking up one morning and literally not being able to get out of bed.

Not because I was lazy (though Netflix and I have been having quite the relationship), but because my spirit said, “Nah sis, we’re done.”

I realised I had become addicted to my own productivity.

Sounds ridiculous, right? But think about it — we live in a world where being busy is a badge of honor, where “grinding” is glorified, and where admitting you need a break feels like defeat.

I was maintaining my output and forgetting to maintain my input.

The breakthrough came when I asked myself:

“If I were my own best friend, what would I tell me right now?”

And honey, the answer was NOT “Keep pushing through.”
It was:

“Girl, SIT DOWN.”

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So I did exactly that.

I stopped. I canceled things. I said no. I disappointed people (and myself).
And you know what happened?

The world didn’t end!!!!!!!!!
My career didn’t collapse.
My relationships didn’t crumble.

Instead, I started to remember who I was underneath all the doing.

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What I Learned During My Sabbatical from Being “Fine”:

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1. The Permission Slip You Don’t Need but Think You Do

Nobody’s going to give you permission to not be okay. You have to give it to yourself.

I kept waiting for someone to notice I was struggling and tell me to take a break.
Plot twist: everyone else is also bleeding while producing.

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2. Your Feelings Are Valid Data, Not Character Flaws

I spent so much time trying to logic my way out of feeling bad that I forgot feelings are actually information. Depression isn't a personality defect; it's your mind's way of saying, "Hey, something needs attention here." Anxiety isn't weakness; it's often your intuition trying to protect you from something that doesn't align with your values.

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3. Rest Is Not a Reward, It’s a Requirement

Rest isn’t the prize after you’ve earned it — it’s the fuel you need to begin.

This one hit different. I had been treating rest like something I had to earn through productivity. But rest isn't the prize you get after you've worked hard enough—it's the foundation that makes good work possible in the first place. You wouldn't expect your phone to work without charging it, so why do we expect our minds and bodies to function without proper rest?

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4. The Myth of the Struggling Artist (or Human)

Somewhere along the way, we were sold the idea that suffering makes us more creative, more authentic and more worthy.
That’s not depth — that’s trauma with good marketing.

You don’t have to bleed to be brilliant.
You don’t have to be broken to be interesting.

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Now, I’m not saying I’ve got it all figured out.

I’m still working on this whole “human being” instead of “human doing” thing. Some days I nail it. Other days, I catch myself scheduling rest like it’s another item on the to-do list (the irony is not lost on me).

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But what I do know is this:

Your worth is not tied to your output.
You are not a machine designed to produce until you break down.
You are a whole human being — with needs, with feelings, with the absolute right to exist even when you’re not producing.

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So if you’re reading this while bleeding but still producing — this is your sign to check in with yourself.

What do you need right now?
Not what would make you more productive.
Not what would make you more impressive.

What would make you feel more human?

Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is absolutely nothing.
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit you’re not okay.
Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is just... be.

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Your girl is still figuring it out — but now I’m doing it hydrated and having eaten something other than anxiety for breakfast.

More soon (when I feel like it, not because I have to),
Covenant xx

P.S. If you made it this far, thank you for reading my emotional essay disguised as a newsletter. Your therapist could never.