IGBOAFRICANA

Dear Worrier, If you’re reading this, I’m guessing you were having one of those moments when you couldn’t get a thought or idea that is not within your control out of your mind, then figured you’d come to the internet looking for answers on how to kick out that obnoxious feeling and move on ASAP, which is why you happened to find yourself on my website. 

 FYI this blog is going to be seasoned with bible texts, short stories, and half-truths. So if you're into that kind of thing then stay for the tea. I’ve read and spoken to enough people who know that I worry too much, and while every time I tell myself I would take every bit of advice and notes that I've come across to move past it, I just happen to give myself something new and improved to worry about.

 In the last couple of months, I had spent every waking moment worrying about driving around Lagos, and while most people may never notice, trust me it’s there. I just happen to cling to these wise words “Fake it till you make it” to push through on most days. 

 Yes, before we get into some texts that have helped me push through, I don't think it would be fair to not mention how being a little fake plays a role in how I navigate moments of anxiety. I think the funniest part of my writing this is I’m currently anxious about something, and I said a prayer under my breath asking the holy spirit to guide me on what I should do, and you guys the word that came to me was “nothing” I’m not a nothing-doer, so you can imagine my struggle!

While I tried to battle this with passages like I can do all things through Christ that strengthens me, he hit me back with a “Which includes nothing”

So recently, I can be anxious and also sit in the comfort of doing nothing because taking action nowadays doesn’t seem to do much for me. 

 At this point, I’m currently worrying if this has in any way been of help to you because honestly there's a possibility perhaps I’m writing this is to make myself feel better about my feelings, kind of like a journal but you get access because misery loves it's share of company. 

You might be thinking “this fraud made me open her website with a promise to show me how to not worry, and now she’s talking about how the holy spirit, misery, and nothingness.”

It gets deeper I promise, and to prove it, i'll kick of with one of my favourite parts of the bible to read when I get overwhelmed with fear. In Philippians 4:6-7 NIV the bible says “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the Peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” 

 The thing about the message is my anxieties aren’t exactly cured by this instant command to not be anxious, rather I've found comfort in the follow up that says; “in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” 

 I remember when I started driving to work, and every day at 3:00 pm I start getting shaky because it was about to be another long daunting drive back to the mainland in Lagos, from my office on the Island. 

Some days I would enter the toilet just before I leave and begin to listen to every Christian podcast under that speaks to anxiety, at one point those 5-6 minutes affirming videos on youtube by Pastor Steven Furick of Elevation church became my crutch.   While on most days the relief was temporary, It was effective enough to get me into the car and back on the road. 

 At the time I never drove above 60MPH and would get jumpy when tailgaters honked at me. It got slightly tiring that I would take driving breaks and leave my car that I spent an entire year praying for at home.

One day I said one of my silent prayers while gripping the steering, “God I commit the navigation of this vehicle to you, please help me get home in peace” I will never forget one of the few things I felt in my heart, was I would get better over time, and even then he will be with me, but I need to keep driving. 

 The wicked thing about worrying is that it doesn't chose an aspect of your life to camp, it usually affects all, from Love, money, career, you name it.

I would love to give you more practical examples of what these have looked like in my life, but I’d rather not spill.  I will tell you this, arming yourself scripture for every situation will help, somedays it will stop heart beating faster than usually, and some days it wouldn't but it will get you to move. It kind of upgrades your anxiety to a “worried but not paralyzed” phase. 

 Finally, Sharpening your trust in God is the final way to purge your worries when they begin to get consuming, you can call it the endgame. I never worry about things within my control because at the crux of things, I trust myself.  So if only there was someone who had control of everything past, present, and future we could trust. 

 Random question; Do you trust God’s plan for you is better than anything you can cook up ? 

Sit in that thought and use it to challenge worrying thoughts from time to time. 

 I've curated some of my favourite words from the bible that get moving despite my worrying; 

 
25 Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 
26  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 
27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? 
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. 
29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. 
30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 
31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 
32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 
33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 
34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. 

 When I feel overwhelmed by my Life in general… 

Psalms 94:19
 
19 When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy. 

 When I’m working on something or learning something new that’s making me doubt myself… 
 
Proverbs 3:5-6

 5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;
 6  in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.

Perhaps you’re not the worrier and you’re trying to get someone you love out of their funk… 

 Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up. 

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

 For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. 

To end my letter, I’d say this;  if at any point you feel that overwhelming sense of worry, know you’re not alone, and while you may not have the answers you want or the things you need that are causing you to feel that way, you have God and trust me, he’s enough.

 I never knew a mug would mean so much until I unwrapped the shiny material that had been presented to me on the night of our house party. The commonly owned mug with a tomato soup recipe branded on it was a five-year vision come through. Presented by my friend and house captain during the customary house party, after our last inter-house sports competition in BMJS. 

I’ve never been able to fully understand my love for marching, maybe it had something to do with how organised the parades looked, or just the beauty in the coordinated arm swings and leg raises. At every point in my life growing up, If an opportunity to march presented itself, I took it. 

The first time I took part in a march past was in primary three, before then, I had just started in a new school, where all students had been mandated to rehearse for the Independence day match that was going to take place at the Teslim Balogun Stadium.  The following week, permission forms were sent out and many parents, including mine, ticked “decline” by the part of the form that required their consent. I remember watching my schoolmates on tv a few days later trying to find anyone I could recognize. 

By the time my first inter-house sport at my new school came up, I quickly put down my name as someone interested in marching. Every day at break time, the marchers from Red house would meet at a hut beside the block of classes away from the playground so that other houses would steal none of our moves. Moves back then were used to describe any extra marching styles or salutes we had other than the usual mark-time, forward march, and turns.

 Sometimes it involved weird and slightly inappropriate catchphrases one of which went like this; 

One of my favourite moves was the two paces mark time, which I’d introduced to the group thanks to my older brother who was a student at Airforce secondary school but to make it simpler for us he’d tagged it two paces-give-it-to-me. Although the score was never really kept or considered in primary school, houses would often argue for the best amidst what we had seen. 

Marching in secondary school was different, unlike in primary school, inappropriate catchphrases were not allowed, and scores were kept. Between the four houses, Paley, Howells, Archbishop, and Babington, I was in Paley house, known for its longest streak of winning the annual sports competition while simultaneously losing march passes every year. 

In Paley’s house, marching was a sport reserved for seniors who wanted to take part in something besides the typical sports. So the only way a junior could take part was by either being the princess or having a school mother who would speak to other seniors for your sake. In my case, I had to wait till I was in JSS2. Our commander was the older sister of a close friend, so in total we were just three juniors that could march. 

From my first rehearsal, I could tell why our house lost every year, for starters the march past meant little to the commander, for her it was just a means to have your name taken down as a participant in the inter-house sports, second, we did the same routine, which had been taught by our patron an ex-police officer. Compared to the other houses, our routine had no highs, or like in primary school, no moves.

We also started rehearsing later than most houses. Practice was typically every day from 6:00 pm in between our old dining halls, and every day we would practice the same bland routine that I and a few others who shared the same sentiments kept too quiet about because the patron who was the Senior Christian religious studies teacher and commander who was also the labor prefect frightened us. On march day, I couldn’t stop looking at the Howells house lineup at the start point. 

Unlike us, they did a lot more than just putting their hair up in a bun and wearing white sneakers with green socks. They had at least fifty people marching on the field, and among them, each girl had a silver sash that glittered at the seams and a tiara that sat on their middle part slick back hairdo. The guys also wore sashes with long blue Adidas socks to match the girls’ blue hose. Right there on the field, I knew they would win. 

Maybe this was why I moved counterclockwise when the commander yelled for a left wheel, causing me to walk out of the lineup towards the end of our routine. 

We came last. 

Even though we ended up winning the inter-house sports another year in a row, I couldn’t help feeling hurt about our position in the march, we could have been better, we should have done better. That was the first time I realized I wanted to command, but for every year I tried, I was reminded that I couldn’t command seniors, even though I was in senior school. As long as someone in a class ahead of me was marching, I couldn’t command. 

Unlike I was led to believe in my junior school days, commanding gave the student power to change the march, unless the patron disliked it. So despite participating in other sports, I always found my way back to the cemented space between the marches and delivered the same routine I’d learnt in JSS2 for four years until I was in SS3. 

SS3 finally came, and I was made the commander and I remember feeling my nerves almost winning the battle in my head in the days leading up to our first practice. I couldn’t help thinking “nobody sent me”. The idea of coming up with another routine and changing a few rules scared me. I sympathised with the commanders before me, just maybe they also thought about changing things up, but at thirteen, it was daunting. 

My only mantra for the time to come was we must not come last. 

The first thing we did differently was to open marching to juniors, a strategy that we hoped would cover lapses like the one I made in my first year, then secondly we incorporated moves, from baton spins to a grand entrance for our princess that involved a bit of acrobatics. One thing our plan needed was time, and so immediately after the inter-house sports season started we began practice.

 On some days marching clashed with my volleyball practice, but as we agreed practice would begin without me, and I would join with a few other friends who were also juggling other sports with marching. Over the years, I’d also noticed what I considered favouritism, which I can now translate more to politicking also played a role in the results of the march. So when the time came to pick our princess, we selected a JSS1 student who we’d learnt from her school mother that her dad was going to be one of the chair people that day.  

A week before we hit the field to march, I couldn’t get the picture of Howells’ house out of my head. I remember myself and a few friends including the house captain, going to our matron’s room two blocks away from our hostel, after our night prep to ask if she would help us shop for items that would give us a fighting chance against Howells house aesthetically. 

It was march day, and as we hit the field, I’d never felt more confident about a march in five years, from our looks which comprised black hose for girls paired with the most micro green feathered fascinator hat I’d ever seen, to green Adidas hose for boys. Our batons were also decorated with green and silver ribbons and we’d had two cans of confetti handy to launch the grand entrance of two princesses which had been a last-minute decision to surprise the crowd. 

They each had on tiaras, with white satin gloves that ran up their arms, and each held a green and white flower arrangement, one for the chairman, and another for our principal. 

I’d never forget the feeling when the results were announced, even though the plan was not to become last, that year we won. 

We could barely hold our formation because we were new to this. 

That year, Paley house came second overall, ending a seven-year winning streak, but if I’m being honest that mattered little to me, I had this new mug as a symbol of a four year passion. 

It took exactly four years and three months before I ever marched again, and even though my platoon at NYSC camp came second to last, I always had my soup mug.