“the highest form of knowledge is empathy”, and maybe, I have been lacking.
who am I to define your truth, when I am still discovering mine?
Judgment. I judge myself, and in turn, I’ve judged you, too. I once believed that striving for perfection was the only way to be seen, to be accepted. I don’t say this to shift blame, only to acknowledge how deep cultural expectations, especially in African households, can root performance into our expression.
Being perfect. Being everything. Being enough.
But somewhere along the way, I became hypocritical. Criticizing others for the very same flaws I carry. And how can I? How could I ever expect grace from others while denying it to myself?
Over the last six months, I made a decision: to live with integrity. To align my values with my actions. To become a woman of my word, even when that means owning my failures, my contradictions, and my humanity.
And here’s the raw truth: I am what I hate.
All that running, from people, places, patterns that didn’t sit right with me — only led me back to my own misalignment. It’s easy to speak of self-awareness. But it’s much harder to live it.
Judgment is in my mind like muscle memory. It’s instinctual — but I’m starting to question the instinct. What if I resist it? What if I break the cycle?
Who am I to judge, when every soul is just trying to make it through their own chaos?
The greatest declaration we can make is grace. Grace for others and grace for self.
mea culpa
I now know, what I did not know before.
the incongruence of black and white thinking
ying yang
The human experience doesn’t exist in black or white — it lives in the gray. I think of the yin-yang symbol as I write this. But what stands out to me most are the dots: the black dot inside the white, and the white dot inside the black.
There is darkness within the light, and light within the darkness.
I still remind myself: there’s no such thing as a “bad person.” Human beings do bad things. Human beings do good things. Labeling ourselves or others as inherently one or the other limits the fullness of our humanity.
However, it’s easier said than lived. Especially when I experience subtle betrayal, the rejection of my essence, or when I simply have to face the complexities of being in relationship with other people. That’s when all my thoughtful philosophies fly out the window. I enter a war zone — not with weapons, but with withdrawal, distance, cut-offs. I punish people for not being who I decided they were.
And in those moments, I have to ask myself:
Doesn’t that make me what I claim to hate?
shame
Even when I recognize my flaws, and the flaws of others, I don’t want to see myself as a bad person. And honestly, I don’t believe I am.
somewhere deep inside, I’ve held onto this belief of, “If you do something bad, then you deserve punishment, and not just any punishment, but something painful, something that fits the shame”.
So I carry the shame. Wear it like armor. Sometimes I even use my pain to justify my reactions. beneath all of that, the defense, the blame, the guilt, sits the deeper truth: shame. The part of me that whispers, “You are the bad thing.”
But let’s be real.
This idea isn’t new. It originates back to childhood. The fear of doing wrong, of disappointing someone, of facing harsh consequences — it shapes how we react as adults. That fear grows into anxiety. Avoidance. Anger. Silence. When we hurt someone or mess up, we either run or self-destruct. We brace for the sword, even if no one’s swinging it.
"And you live in a shell
You create your own hell
You live in the past and talk about war"
- Drink before the war, 1987.
The real war we face, more often than not, is in the mirror. looking right back at us.
now what?
Well now, I can be honest. I can no longer live beneath the veil of perpetual victimhood. As much as it hurts to admit, I’ve carried the same wounds that once shattered me, and embodied them, even.
True self-awareness calls for accountability, and I am making the choice to answer with integrity.
That doesn’t mean I dismiss the weight of my actions; it means I’m learning to offer myself the grace to forgive, and the courage to not choose the same path twice.
This section of this post is still unfolding. In real time, in my life. I haven’t reached the end, nor do I claim to have answers for myself or for you. I’m still making peace with my truth, still sitting with the discomfort of being human.
Guilt still visits me, sometimes gentle, sometimes sharp. Some days I forgive myself. Other days, I punish myself subtly by replaying moments, thoughts, regrets.
But now that I know better, I will choose better. Over and over again.
EVOLVE, OR REPEAT.
