On: Five Truths And A Lie
This article is best enjoyed whilst listening to the song “Stick Season” by Noah Kahan - https://youtu.be/iWG6apzIWAk
From May 2021 till date, I have lost over a million Naira in my attempts towards pursuing a masters degree in the UK. What started as a way to further my education soon devolved into a battle to escape the dread of an impending doom of my own machinations. I have spent my waking days and nights trying to find a way to break the mold. It has drained every fiber in my body. Two months ago, drained, exhausted and mentally wrought with self-deprecation, I finally stopped.
I promise you this is not a story of how easy it was to stop myself from actually living the phenomenon of the sunk cost fallacy. It is also not a story of how I overcame the odds and somehow came out tops. Trust me, at the end of this, you won’t get to smile with the belief that in the end things worked out for me, because, spoiler alert, they didn’t. What this is though, is a story of how sometimes, the respite we seek in our toughest moments are not gifts to be granted but merely simple truths to be realized.
And the first truth I realized was this: stopping yourself from doing something is only as difficult as the reinforcing narratives that surround what is being done. For the longest time, every failure I got in my attempt at furthering my studies was narratively interpreted to me as a sign to keep pushing further. I was certain I’d be able to stop whenever it got too much. As such, with every obstacle that ideally should’ve helped me flag this habit as something to be cautious towards, I found a reinforcing narrative that encouraged me to double my efforts irrespective of the facts, albeit still certain that when it got too bad, I could just as easily stop what I started.
The second truth I came to terms with was this: perseverance isn’t as ennobling as it is often made out to be. Yes, it’s a virtue worth professing and one that everyone should be keen to self-medicate on in healthy dosages. However, when it comes down to the nitty gritty of life and how the world works, perseverance can be a blight as dreadful as the encroaching decay on King Viserys fingers. Sometimes perseverance is the excuse we make to avoid the responsibility of our missteps. I know for a fact that one of the many reasons I kept pushing towards my many pitfalls was because I wanted to be able to justify to future me — the version of me that would have to deal with the fallout of my eventual failure — that I gave it my all.
The pressure was palpable, at least for me. If you weren’t planning on leaving the country, chances are that someone in your circle was. I remember last year in December I was hit with a big blow. My plans for moving crumbled before my eyes. I remember a close friend who was on a similar path asking me what my next steps were and me telling him: “I’m not sure. I think I want to stop and just reevaluate things.” A statement to which he replied “Don’t re-evaluate for too long. Find another way.” I remember feeling alone in that moment, sitting with the realization that in one of my toughest moments, the most comforting words from a friend were still centered around a sense of pressure.
In looking back at that moment, I know deep down my friend never meant for his words to seem inconsiderate. I daresay, at that moment, I understood why he said what he said. And only in retrospect was I able to come to the realization of the third truth: pressure makes diamonds, but it scars the rest of us. And I have been unceremoniously scarred. In fact, I still feel terrified by how much I have lived out the past year of my life nursing old scars whilst creating new unnecessary wounds. I pressured myself into making plans towards escaping a reality that I otherwise should have found solace in living in. And I did all of these because the idea of persevering was an easier lie to confront than coming to terms with the truth of my own missteps. In trying to be that pressured diamond I forgot to acknowledge that I was merely human. Diamonds don’t bleed. Humans do.
The fourth truth I came to terms with might be the simplest of them all in this story. Not because it’s trite but rather that it negates a long held misbelief in how the wheels of fortune works. The truth: the universe doesn’t owe you fairness; it owes you truths. In my bid to persevere, I pushed and convinced myself that the many failures I encountered would be balanced out soon enough by some good fortune. A long streak of failure could only mean good things were close by, so I thought. What’s that saying again: “it’s always darkest before the dawn.” Boy, was I wrong! In the wake of my strings of failures, I also lost my job. I lost one of my passions. I sunk deeply into depression. I lost my overall drive. And yet some part of me has continued to keep an eye out for the universe to reward my stretch of bad moments with a single huge win that would breathe exceptional life in me.
**crickets***
It’s been 5 months without a job; 20 weeks of a continuous barrage of rejection emails; and 140 days of me continuously waiting for some stroke of kindness from the universe. And in my wait so far, a fifth truth has struck me: patience is only a virtue if you know what you’re waiting for. Personally, I’m not sure I do anymore. And so I think maybe it’s time for me to stop waiting for the universe and instead choose a different path.
Or maybe that’s one lie I have to keep telling myself in order to stay sane. Maybe.
Cheers!