Everyone loves a success story

Is failure not part of the success?

Hello my newsletter people,

It’s me again, trying to will my brain to stop running helter-skelter with unwelcome thoughts and stay focused for once. Let me give you a small gist as I wait for my brain to reset.

My mother believes that everyone should have a skill (because we are in Nigeria and everyone needs a plan B). But when it got to my turn, there was a problem: I wasn't interested in anything. I couldn’t draw, I couldn’t design; I wasn’t artistic in any way, not even in my dressing—I would even wait for my siblings to pick out clothes for me before I went anywhere (I was such a baby).

My lack of artistry was why I didn’t learn to use a knife properly. I had to learn after almost slicing my hand countless times.

Slow down, you are almost drifting.

Okay, fast forward to when I graduated from secondary school and wrote every exam that comes with it: JAMB, WAEC, and NECO. My mother suggested that I shouldn't waste my time staying at home all day (I wished I had told her that it wasn’t a waste of time, but just what people called resting). So, that was how I was told to pick any handwork that I was interested in.

Me, interested in something? No, I don’t think so.

But I didn’t say that—I didn’t want my parents to give me the look. Instead, I said I would think about it. As if.

“Should I go into barbing?” No, they would say it’s...

“What about shoe making?”

“What about…?”

Screams in overthinking.

I gave up on thinking; it’s actually stressful to make big decisions, so don’t blame me. My parents finally called me and I said the first thing that came to my mind.

“Hairdressing.”

“Are you sure?” my father asked with uncertainty written all over his face.

Of course, I wasn’t sure. I had never taken an interest in hair before, so I said nothing.

“You can do other things, like fashion designing or baking. Your life must not revolve around books; no one is saying it’s a bad thing but there’s no harm in having a plan B,” they said.

I don’t know what got into me, that thing drove me to lie. I started saying things, like how I have always loved hairdressing and what I could do with it. I saw the way happiness flashed on their faces, not because I picked hairdressing, but because they felt I finally had passion for something, other than books.

Fast forward… play.

They paid for my training and boom, my brain just wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t even learn common cornrows (common all-back). Hian! See the way I will disgrace my family.

One hot afternoon, my boss asked, “Didn’t you go to secondary school?”

I didn’t understand that question o.

She continued when she saw that I was not ready to answer the question, for all I care, it should better be rhetorical, “In secondary school, people braid other people’s hair.”

Well, I’m not people.

In the end, I only learned to braid box braids and nothing more. I couldn’t even part hair properly without the help of my sisters. That was the first time I felt like a failure. I had never been that disappointed. Trust me, I really tried to learn but my hands were not working with my brain.

Fast forward to January, I had to leave for school and for a while, that felt like a past that I refused to visit. But each time I looked at the equipment that my parents bought for the training, I felt deflated.

Allow me to shake my head small.

2020 visited with Covid, so, no school. I went back home and when I got bored, I decided to give hairdressing a second chance. Who was I kidding?

Again, my parents believed in me and paid for my training in another place. See, you need to see the way I looked at them with promising eyes and said, “I will be serious this time.”

I guess the universe was laughing when that word left my mouth. Yikes! My seriousness didn’t take me far. Again!

I learned nothing new.

I became angry. At who? Myself?

I started questioning so many things. Why can’t I learn this one thing? Whyyyyy?

Guess what I became? A hair critic. Oh Chim oo.

I have all the knowledge I need to know about hair, but to implement it? Very difficult. I would look at braids and know which were made well and which weren’t, as if I could do it. At that point, I could teach anyone about hair but I just couldn’t help myself. Why? Why?

I gave up and disappointment lurked around me. Shame enveloped me and I was just left with questions. I would come online and see people posting about their new skills and how well they were doing, and I would ask, “Why can’t I be them?” I expected my parents to shout and tell me they were disappointed but they didn’t.

Do you think it got better with time? No, it didn’t. My hands would always get sweaty, devoid of confidence, and I would try to part hair with little success; my sisters were always there to help me part the hair properly as I braided. That helped to prove the point that I couldn’t even make other people’s hair apart from my family members, because who would like to spend that much time braiding hair? (I was really slow). Who would want one person braiding their hair and another parting it? Would my sisters be there always?

But then, after beating myself up, I just knew that maybe hairdressing is not for me. Truth is, not everything is for you, no matter how we try; some things are just not for you.

I’m sorry that this newsletter was longer than usual. If you got to this point, you have my heart.

Until next time.