Survivor's Guilt

Hi! Did you miss me? If you did, I’m sorry. I was stuck house hunting - sidebar, house hunting in Lagos is the biggest exercise in patience and standing your ground. For this ILL letter, you’ll hear from a close friend of mine, Boluwaji. Boluwaji is crazy, but he and I come from similar backgrounds and a bulk of our conversations surround how to overcome the guilt that holds us back.

I hope you take a thing or two from this letter and start your year knowing that you deserve and are worthy of enjoying yourself.

And at what point does it stop?
At what point do those dreadful creeping thoughts go away?
You know, the one that reminds you not to spend too much because you grew up in lack.

Is it 
When do you spend your last money helping people because you can relate to them?When you drop that expensive wine because the price tag was your dream money when growing up?
When you shed the last of your skin to prove to them that you are still like them even if you are no longer alike?


Hi, My name is Boluwaji, and I suffer from survivor’s guilt.

If you ask me when it started, I’ll probably not be able to give an answer. Was it when I spent what used to be my yearly allowance on groceries? Or was it when I bought a shirt with money that my 10-year-old-self thought would take us out of poverty?

I could go on and go on, yet I will have no answer to that question, one thing is certain though, the feeling is always creeping at the back of my mind.

Anytime I come across a homeless or a less privileged person, I want to say to them, “I understand you, I see you, I care a whole lot, I wish there was more I could do for you. I wish you could be given the same opportunity I was given.” I wish to sit and tell them how it would probably get better, but I can’t, so I do what I can, and I hope life gets better for them.

There is a saying about a poor man not caring about the future, and they are right.
How can you care about the future when you don’t know if you’ll be able to eat dinner, sleep in a warm place, or breathe clean air?

By now, you must have gotten the point that I didn’t grow up fancy; I was born in Mushin General Hospital and lived in a white garment church for the first weeks of my life. I understand poverty a bit too well.

I’ve lived in a beer parlour for years, amongst many other things, but you get the point; I’m not trying to make this poverty porn.

I’m grateful for my opportunities, and I recognise I'm an outlier; some people would have probably done more with the opportunities I had and fumbled. 

People who come from where I did don’t end up with their apartments at 26 or get legal jobs that make them a top 0.1% earner in the country (which isn’t a lot because we’re generally poor).

One thing about coming from poverty and making money the way I did is the feeling of guilt that follows you around when you dream or live above the poverty threshold.

The first time I spent over 100k on “fine dining”, I felt bad for weeks; how could I spend some people’s salary for 2 months? I keep asking myself if I deserve it, if some people don’t need it more than I do.

But the truth is, I’ve earned it rightly, and I’m deserving of what I spend it on without having to think of those left behind.

Yeah, seems unfair. Life is, generally.

Enough about me; it’s high time you start reading the message I came here to share which is TO ENJOY YOUR MONEY.

To enjoy your money without guilt,
To enjoy your money without putting it through a poverty conversion rate,
To enjoy your money without thinking of the 10-year-old you who thought #100k was the biggest money on earth,
To enjoy your money without having to think about the millions who are still yet to make it.

You worked for it, you earned it, and it’s okay to be financially irresponsible sometimes. Everyone can tell you how to spend your money but how many of them live your life or help you do the work, na you know wetin you dey see.

This message is important to me because a lot more people from similar backgrounds are beginning to make money, and a lot of people we grew up with aren’t. 

You can’t do many things you want to do with them, and you sometimes feel like you’re leaving them behind, but you can only give so much, and you’re more useful to them by moving forward, street no get memory.

Now, I’m not saying you should forget them or forget your beginnings; they are a vital part of you. However, don’t be so consumed by your poor past that you forget to enjoy the money you work for.

It’s okay to splurge; it’s okay to spend on yourself; all your bills don’t have to be utility, go on dates, go for vacation, order that food, buy that shirt, you deserve it, brutha!

That you were born in a certain place or grew up in certain conditions doesn’t mean you should be loyal to it; you were born there, not made for there.

So, don’t stretch yourself thin, don’t shed your skin, and don’t feel obligated to always give back, go back, or take them along because, at the end of the day, life is one per head.

So my people, as you lock in and get the rewards, please enjoy it to the fullest, and pay it forward, but only what you can. It’ll be a good year!

On Books.

I'm obsessed with “A NAME IS A PLEA AND A PROPHECY” by my leader, my superior, my mentor and my close friend, Gabrielle Emem Henry. I know her personally, by the way.

On Music.

This is the last song I want to hear and sing before I die.

Lemonade.

After 8 years of squatting around with friends, I finally have my place where I can fully be myself. And if you’ve never had your place before, you wouldn’t understand the freedom that comes with living in a place you call your own. I hope you do someday.

I also met someone who showed me that light belongs in my life, no matter how far I think I’ve drowned.

This letter is sponsored by the bitter feminists of Twitter. You’re doing the Lord’s work; carry on, sisters.

Ciao,

Boluwaji.