Valentine’s Day started at 5:12 a.m. Tolu was already awake, not because of love but because of anxiety. His alarm had gone off at 5, but he had been staring at the ceiling, calculating. It was not the end of the month yet, so he couldn’t even bank on his salary. His little savings wouldn’t be enough for the show he wanted to put up for Ada, the love of his life.

“I won’t tell you what to do in particular, but I just want you to surprise me. My friends think very highly of you,” Ada had said over WhatsApp. He would have loved it if she had said, “I want a bob wig” or “I want a bag”. “Surprise me” felt heavy.

By 9 a.m., he called Femi.

“Guy… you dey awake?”

“I dey. Wetin happen?”

“I need 150k. I go return am very soon.”

“150k?! Na Valentine or something?”

Tolu forced a laugh. “Yes… just… I need to run one or two things.”

“Hmm… I fit send am. Two weeks max you fit balance me?”

“I swear.”

The money hit his account minutes later. By evening, Ada was glowing over flowers, chocolate, and a gift box filled with beautiful things.

“Tolu… what is all this?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Just a small surprise,” he said.

“Small keh? You always show up. Thank you very much. You're so sweet"

For a few hours, he felt tall. Adequate. Loved.

That didn't last now. Did it?

At 11 p.m., his phone buzzed. It was Femi.

“Guy… something came up. I need that 150k in like two days.”

Tolu stared at the ceiling. The roses were still fresh, Ada’s smile still in his mind, but the debt now had a heartbeat of its own.

"Two days? Who else can I call?" The thought occupied Tolu's mind.

Valentine’s Day had started with calculation.

It ended with panic.

Maybe he shouldn't have bothered to cut his coat oversize.

But experience they say is the best teacher.

Somebody Shout ‘Clean Slate!’

Technically not tbh, because some of the things you did last year will meet you this year. But what I actually mean is a starting point for you to gather ‘streaks’ in the direction of anything positive that you desire. So congratulations!

Lets get into the Activity!

Basically it’s 6 questions, and you respond with whatever answers you give in the order of the questions (Like; C, B, C, A, C,D) and we will tell you your spirit animal for 2026 🤭 should be fun!

Here are the Questions;

1. Which energy are you entering 2026 with?
   A) Soft life & visas
   B) Manifesting like Wi-Fi (sometimes connects)
   C) Hustle, but make it cute
   D) If phone ring → money call only

2. Your toxic New Year trait?
   A) New notebooks every January, same results
   B) Expecting money without pressing calculator
   C) Cutting off people… then texting “U dey?”
   D) Going out to “window shop” with zero discipline

3. Your 2026 love style?
   A) Reposting couple goals
   B) Talking stages with no destination
   C) Knows red flags but likes the colour 🤡
   D) Serious relationship with planner & pillow

4. Your birthday celebration will be…
   A) “Just small thing” but decorator is involved
   B) Netflix + food from your fave mama-put
   C) Destination party in your mind
   D) Something cute. Max 6 people. 4 may cancel.

5. Your friendship style this year:
   A) “Let’s link up!” (doesn’t link up)
   B) Meme supplier
   C) The one with the plan
   D) You left the GC in March & nobody noticed

6. Theme of your January:
   A) “God abeg”
   B) “Last last, we go survive”
   C) “This year, I’m different” (copies and pastes from last year)
   D) “If I speak…”

WHAT ARE YOUR ANSWERS?

Hit us up in the comments so we can tell you who you really are going to be thsi 2026 using a spirit animal! 👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

Leave a comment

Happy New Year to everyone! This year will be an amazing year - your best year yet!

Have fun today, and for the rest of the way!

Subscribe now

What a year! Right?

So many awesome things happened to so many of us this year, just as much as so many questionable things. While it is known that we should not just react to things but create situations that favour us, we can agree that a lot of the times this is more motivational than factual. We had very awesome engagement from you all since we started in April, and we are more than grateful for the additional perspective you’ve created to help us understand you better and write about things you care about.

To that effect we are going to play 2 mental games right here and now:

1. Recount the most awesome money lessons you learn this year

Here’s a few of mine:

a) Money is a means to an end, focusing on the end sometimes will give much more satisfaction than focusing on the money it takes to get there

b) I am so important that oblation will wait, and when it is indeed time to oblate, it shall be done to the max. FOMO is a myth

c) Budget for family, and spend within the budget gracefully

d) Health insurance is important

e) Buy things you like that you can afford, and save for things you like that you cannot yet afford

Awesome, so what lessons did you gather? 👇🏾👇🏾

Leave a comment

2. What are we doing this 2026?

And it doesn’t have to be a new year resolution battle that is hard. Atomic habits that you can do ever so little of, every single day will grow to something so huge that you will not believe it at the end! For instance, 10 minutes of learning French every day using a language app like Duolingo, stretched out over 2 years, you might discover that you can see a movie in French and understand the plot! So start thinking what new things you’d like to do for yourself in 2026 that are wholesome and awesome.

Here’s one you can copy or add:

In 2026, I will start to develop the habit of investing, by buying boring blue chip stocks worth [Insert an amount that is not more than 10% of your monthly income] whether the market is up or down.

I highly recommend 😉

In Conclusion

Make sure your December is just detty enough to get it cleaned up with detergent in January - the 45-day month 😂.

Thank you for being part of our journey, see you again next year!

Saying no is hard, especially when it comes to money. Whether it’s an invite to just hang out , a group trip, or the urge to buy what is trending or the ego after some people have finished hailing you and you have to press money, there’s this sneaky pressure to say yes to everything. To keep up. To not be the “boring” one or the different one but you don’t have to say yes to everything. In fact, learning to say no is one of the smartest financial moves you can make. It’s not a joke. I’m not whining you.

The problem is, many of us confuse saying ‘no’ with being selfish or missing out. We worry that turning down a night out or skipping a purchase will make us less fun, less connected, or less valued but the truth is, saying no isn’t about denying yourself or others, it’s about protecting your boundaries and your financial health. You do not need a new bag but your friend got a new bag and goes ahead to tell you, “You should get this bag let’s twin”😂 You should have said ‘no’ since you were not under duress but you bought the bag anyway and it did not get you excited because your account felt it.

Saying no creates space for the things that really matter to you. It’s like budgeting your time and energy alongside your money.

Let’s be honest, no one can do it all. You can’t be everywhere, buy everything, or please everyone. Saying no is about being selective. It’s about choosing your yeses carefully so that they bring real value to your life. That way, when you do say yes to a trip, a gift, or an experience, it’s genuine, joyful, and within your means.

Saying no also teaches you something powerful, self-respect. You should value yourself so much that you keep to your word and not do what you do not want to do. When you honor your financial limits, you send a message to yourself and others, that your goals and wellbeing matter. That you are in charge of your money, not the other way around.

Of course, saying no can feel uncomfortable at first. People around may even look at you as someone who does not like good things. You might worry about judgment or missing out but over time, it gets easier. You start noticing that people respect your boundaries more than you expected. You feel lighter, less stressed, and more confident. And those feelings are worth more than any temporary yes.

So next time you’re faced with a financial yes-or-no moment, remember, it’s okay to say no. You don’t have to spend to prove your worth, keep up appearances, or avoid awkward conversations. Saying no is an act of courage and clarity. It’s a way to build the life you want on your terms. Ouu, I love the sound of that. On my terms! Sounds like freedom to me.

And honestly? The world won’t end if you skip that party or hold off on that splurge. Your financial future, your peace of mind, and your sense of control? Those are the real wins.

Talk about springing something on you! right? 😂

Well, I have a good reason to.

Every day, Simple Nigerians are making money moves. From stretching salary to building wealth, navigating black tax, dating, rent, and everything in between. But we rarely talk about the awkward, hilarious, and sometimes stressful realities behind those decisions.

That’s why we created “Where Una Dey See This Money?” (WUDSTM). It’s a fun, honest show where we unpack the everyday money problems we all face, without shame, without pressure, and definitely without boring financial advisory lectures.

Just like this newsletter, WUDSTM is all about removing the fear and mystery around money, one real conversation at a time. We’re starting with the stuff everyone goes through but pretends they don’t: the most embarrassing money moments with a partner. 👀😂

Here’s a cool picture of a bunch of plantains with our mic on it. Pretty cool.

Anyways, the first episode premieres tonight on YouTube!

PREMIERE TONIGHT — 7:00 PM (Dec 1st)

So gather your people - a friend, colleague, sibling - and join us for the first episode of the season with the full crew.

👉 Watch the premiere here: S1E1 WUDSTM

Don’t forget to share, comment, and tell us your own embarrassing moments - anonymously if you like 😅.

We’re building a safe place for real talk and real growth, and we’d like for you to be. part of it.

See you at 7PM! 💛

— The WUDSTM Crew

Hi, I guess. Everyone. I’ve never really talked about this before but NAMN is doing the good work. So I’m low-key nervous writing this and I’m honoured to have been asked to. So here goes.. I grew up rich. Not “we were comfortable”. Like rich rich. Family Compound type of rich. Generator backup for the generator kind of rich. The “I thought power banks were for decoration because we always had light” kind of rich.

My childhood smelled like new things. New shoes, new bags, new clothes. I just had to hint that I might like something and somehow it appeared. Life was easy. And guess what? I loved it. Every soft, sweet, pampered bit of it.

Growing up like that taught me something beautiful. When you have everything, your curiosity becomes your currency. You start exploring for fun. You learn to love learning itself. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this right now, like every other person that grew up rich, I’m grateful. Grateful for that kind of safety. Also grateful that money didn’t make me lazy. It made me feel interested. It gave me room to build, fail, experiment and still eat.😂

It never crosses my mind that I’d fail and that will be the end of me. Never. I’m very confident.

Sometimes, I see people act like being privileged is something to hide but honestly? I’m proud.

Proud that I had the kind of start that made me want to do more, not because I had to, but because I can.

It’s also exciting writing this because I used to play it small, like, “let me not talk too much so people won’t think I don’t know struggle”

But money stories aren’t only about scarcity right?

Right.😁

Let me stop here. I’m not a writer like my friend but let me say this last thing.

Don’t be ashamed of where you started, whether it was soft or hard. The goal is not to prove that you struggled or you didn’t. The goal is to grow into someone who can handle life, with or without money.

Thank you for reading.

Kene.

Louis: I absolutely loved the last statement Kene wrote, It’s something I deeply resonate with. The Nigerian culture fo the glorification of suffering in our schools, churches, work places and just general life, is not only hurtful but actually makes no sense. I was refreshed reading Kene’s article and couldn’t wait till the comments to share my two cents for us all to see.

Thanks for reading and thank you Kene for writing ❤️

Everyone loves a good self-made story.

“He started with nothing and now owns four businesses worth billions.”
“She made her first million selling chin chin from her hostel room. And now her hard work alone has paid off, she has the biggest food production line in the country”
“Nobody helped me, I just worked harder than everyone else.”

But let’s pause.

Was it really just hard work?
Is it possible that there was a passport, a parent, a professor, a powerful friend, an inspired insight, an uncommon but real advantage that contributed to the success?

In our continent, success is rarely linear. It’s messy. Political. Relational. Sometimes random (or money miss road).

We don’t talk enough about the cousin who got you the job interview.
The uncle who paid your rent during NYSC.
The mental clarity you had because you weren’t worried about feeding your siblings.

Acknowledging privilege doesn’t mean you didn’t hustle.
It just means you’re honest enough to say, “I didn’t do this alone.”

And if you didn’t, maybe others shouldn’t have to either.

Let’s kill the myth that you must suffer to be worthy. That real success is only valid if it came with tears and trauma. Let us stop this systemic toxicity of glorifying suffering.

Instead, what if we normalized helping?
What if we made access less about connections and more about systems, more about competence, more about fair opportunity?

Privilege doesn’t make you bad. It makes you responsible.

The goal isn’t to pretend we’re all equal.
The goal is to level the path so the next person doesn’t have to lie about how hard it was.

Let’s normalize truth.
Let’s normalize help.

This is my attempt in explaining to those who had a different experience that growing up without that constant fear of lack is like having an invisible foundation under your life. You never had to spend all your energy worrying about the essentials or the big things like school fees or the small things like a broken toy. That energy wasn’t consumed by scarcity, it was free to be poured into joy and learning.

For instance, I remember wanting a particular set of Pokémon action figures when I was seven. I didn’t get them instantly. I had to wait for my birthday, but I never had a moment of doubt that they would eventually show up. That small wait, knowing the promise of fulfillment was certain. It was a lesson in patience, not desperation. Contrast that with kids who worry whether they’ll even have a lunch packed for school. That small difference, that certainty fundamentally changes how your brain develops.

I learned to trust. I learned that my world was safe and that my parents were reliable. That simple security is the biggest gift, because it lets you take risks later in life, knowing you won’t completely fall apart if you fail. There’s always that soft place to land.

When I talk about “getting what I wanted”, it wasn’t about entitlement, it was about the freedom to dream without limits. If I needed a book for a research project, I got the book. If I wanted to try different sports, I got to try them.

When I got to secondary school and wanted to join a club that required a monthly fee or special equipment, the question was never “Can we afford it?” The question was always “Are you going to commit to it?” That shift from a financial barrier to a question of personal effort taught me that my obstacles would be mental, not material.

That consistent fulfillment taught me how to believe in my own ideas. It validated my desires. It showed me that if I articulate a goal or a dream, it’s actually possible to achieve it. It built confidence, not entitlement. Entitlement is about demanding things but this feeling is about gratitude for what’s already been given and the courage to pursue what comes next.

So the biggest takeaway for me, the part that feels truly personal is the sense of responsibility that comes with this comfort. Because I didn’t spend my early years focused on survival, I feel like I have an obligation to focus my adult years on contribution. I see this not just in big charity efforts, but in small, everyday ways. Offering to mentor someone, covering a friend’s bill when I know they’re struggling or simply using my voice to advocate for better structures so that other children can have that same freedom to dream.

It’s like I was given a huge head start in the race of life and it would be a shame not to use that advantage to help lift others up. That’s the core of it, really. It’s not a boast, it’s a quiet thank you for the way I was raised and a promise to pay that comfort forward

- drlvinnie

You weren’t born bad with money. You were born into a system that had already decided who gets to thrive and who gets left behind.

There are a thousand things that could have happened in your earlier years of understanding what this thing - Money is.

Maybe you watched your parents fight about school fees.
Maybe your first memory of money was lack, not abundance.
Maybe you learnt that talking about money brings stress, instead of solutions. And all the material you interacted with made it always look like a complex out of reach thing for the majority.

Well, that’s not just your story. It’s a multi-generational issue.

Colonialism disrupted our ancestral economic systems, and put us somewhere in between ours and theirs. Some kind of formless existence where we aren’t quite sure how to separate what we think is the norm from what is right for us. By the time you couple that with systemic corruption, money has already been turned from a tool to a survival skill.

And then of course, general culture made silence and shame the norm around these issues.

Very similar to the topic of Sex

So if you’re struggling with saving, spending, or even asking for more, it’s okay. Its conditioning over a very long period of time. You’re not to blame, and in the same vein, you cannot shift the blame totally to someone else and expect a solution.

Blame the scripts. Then rewrite them.

You can;
You can identify and name what happened to you.
You can choose new thoughts, new mindsets, that are beneficial to what you wish for yourself.
You can become the first link in your family line that sees money clearly and kindly.

Not everyone gets that chance. But you do if you decide you do. So take it slowly.

Start by noticing your beliefs:
“I’m not good with money.” Is that true, or is this inherited and based on unrealistic standards?
“People like me can’t be wealthy.” Who told you that? What defines this and why does it have to be your reality?

There’s power in saying: I’m learning, and I will become better.
There’s healing in saying: I deserve better.

Money trauma isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s in the decisions you delay.
The dreams you don’t plan for.
The help you refuse to ask for.

But you can end the multigenerational chain of downcast, self-sabotaging behaviours. It won’t be perfect. But it will be yours.

And that’s more than enough.

You know it feels that we are all living for one thing - money. It kinda shapes everything. It's the why, the essence, the drive, the goal. And it all stems from how we got introduced to money.

Hey there. Hosanna here.

I still remember times when money made me feel very small. It was loud, but I was the only one who heard it.

Growing up as a pastor’s kid has been the most rollercoaster journey of my life and honestly, I’m still on the ride. We believed God for everything. And it was funny, because all I wanted was what other kids my age had. It wasn’t supposed to be that hard, right?

I wasn’t in lack, per se. I had the basic things of life and even extra, but there were always more pressing needs that money had to solve. House maintenance. School fees. Bills. There was always something bigger. So when children my age had fancy lunch boxes, I carried a basket or one of those bright souvenir bags from weddings or burials.

Most times, cabin biscuits were tucked into white nylon bags for school snacks, and Eva water cans doubled as my water bottle, while colourful flasks from other children danced across the classroom.

There was always a need to manage. Always a reason not to get something “just because I wanted it.” Always boundaries. And I always noticed how easily other children got what they wanted.

That did something to me. It shaped how I measured what was enough. It shaped how I saw money.

And maybe that’s why, even now, I sometimes hesitate to want freely. To buy something nice without explaining it to myself. To enjoy softness without guilt.

But I know I’m not alone.

Amaka.

For me, money always felt like a mirror that showed me everything I didn’t have. I hated how it made me shrink in rooms where I should have stood tall. You know how they treat children of parents who donate more to the school now. There was a very clear separation and I hated how it made me feel then. I wanted to be them. I'm not sure I will be able to recover. I'm burning out chasing this money but I don't have a choice.

Love.

Money was the reason I learned how to swallow my wants. I became an expert at saying, ‘It’s okay, I don’t need it,’ even when I needed it badly. Somewhere in my mind, I can still hear, "it's not everything you want you'll have o. School fees are pending and your text books are not complete yet". I don't even know how to ask for something or receive it.

Emmanuel.

Hossy, I think poverty has a sound. I heard it so much growing up and I don't want to recount the experiences but right now I'm doing everything not to hear that sound again abeg. God forbid.

Ada.

I can’t forget the sting of being told, ‘We don’t have money for that.’ It was never just about the thing itself, it was the quiet reminder that what I wanted didn't matter, walahi and it hurt.

Femi.

I always felt like money made my childhood smaller. Smaller birthdays, smaller celebrations, smaller joys. Everything was rationed. Omo.

Dan.

Money, to me, was the thief of softness. It made me grow up too fast, made me calculate too much, made me feel guilty for ever wanting more.

Ifyyy.

There were days money felt like a person standing in the room, deciding for us. What we could eat and what we could wear or even how much joy we should have at home. It was always from one problem to another.

Blessing.

Money always carried shame for me. Not because I didn’t have enough, but because I was constantly reminded of how much more others had.

And maybe that’s the point. Our stories with money are different, but the ache is familiar. The silence, the shrinking, the guilt, the longing, they live in so many of us.

But here’s the truth I’m holding on to, money is not my worth. It never was. It was never meant to decide the size of my joy, the depth of my dreams, or how enough I get to feel.

Yes, money shaped us. It carved scars we didn’t ask for. But it doesn’t get the final say. We do and together, we are learning to write gentler scripts.

We're all carrying money stories. Some loud, some quiet. I'd love that you share a bit with me.

Thank you for reading. This week, try one small act of softness for yourself.

Subscribe now

Growing up, I didn’t really think about money. We were middle class, and for a long time, life felt comfortable enough that finances weren’t something I worried about. My parents provided what we needed, and as a child, I felt secure.

Things started to shift as I got older. We changed school and the fees and basic expenses began to rise - sometimes doubling or even tripling. Transportation cost more, groceries cost more, and what used to feel “enough” for our family started to feel like it wasn’t. Little by little, I could sense that my parents had to make adjustments, even if they didn’t always say it out loud.

My dad’s generosity stood out to me during those years. He was the kind of father who, when he had, he gave freely. When I was in primary school, he promised that if any of us came first in class, he’d buy a whole chicken to celebrate, just like his father had done for him. And he kept that promise. Later, when I was in Primary Three, he told me he’d give me ₦5,000 if I came first again. At the time, that was a lot of money. I'm talking 2013! Moments like that were proof that even when our finances weren't as stable, he never held back love or celebration.

The real weight of financial strain hit when I became a teenager. Teen years come with new desires—you start noticing the things your peers have and the experiences they share. There were things I really wanted, things that felt important at the time, but I couldn’t have them. It sometimes made me feel insecure, even though I now understand it wasn’t a reflection of my worth.

Then COVID happened, and everything changed. The lockdown disrupted everything—my mom’s income was cut drastically, and eventually she had to leave her job because the reduced salary couldn’t even cover her transportation, especially with the commute between the mainland and the island. It was a hard season. I remember feeling the tension in our home—the expenses were a lot, and I could see the effort my parents were making to keep us afloat.

One of the hardest things for me personally was not having a phone. It sounds small now, but at the time, when friendships and conversations were majorly held online, it made me feel excluded and even caused a strain in some of those relationships, till date. Even after graduating as head girl, I didn’t own a phone. Two years later, I finally got my first one. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t care or didn’t want me to have it—they were simply prioritizing bigger and more pressing needs. But at that age, I guess I didn't really understand.

Looking back now, I see those years differently. They were hard, but they also revealed how faithful God is. Even in the moments when it felt like we wouldn’t make it through, He always provided in unexpected ways. Sometimes, that provision looked like encouragement or help from others; sometimes, it was simply the strength to keep going.

Today, things are much better. My siblings and I are older and we can earn our own money to assist ourselves and help our parents. Some seasons are stable, others aren’t, but through all of it, God has been steady. I still hold on to childhood dreams like living in a beautiful home with my parents, buying them cars, flying them abroad, celebrating their birthdays in grand ways. And I believe those dreams will come to pass.

What I’ve learned through it all is to be grateful. Just like Paul said, I've learnt to “abase and abound.” Whether in lack, abundance, or the in-between seasons where you don’t have all you want but you’re learning contentment, nothing can separate me from God’s love. Growing up financially wasn’t always easy, but it shaped me. It built a resilience, a gratitude, and a hope that runs deeper than money.

Subscribe now

We don’t talk enough about what it’s like to be in a bad relationship with money. Not broke, just emotionally entangled in the kind of dynamic that drains you, gaslights you, makes you feel like you’re the problem, and then whispers sweet nothings like, “But remember when I bought you that fine shoe?”😂

Toxic money relationships are real. And like any toxic relationship, it usually starts off hot. You get your first salary and suddenly you’re Beyoncé. You’re buying lunch for everyone. You’re shopping like you’re on a Netflix reality show. You’re saying yes to plans like you own a private jet. I would have called names but let me choose peace today.

But then comes the twist. The overdraft texts start rolling in like passive-aggressive messages from an ex. You’re borrowing from Peter to pay Paul and dodging Peter next. You start avoiding your banking app like it’s someone you ghosted and ran into at a party. You know it’s bad, but you’re stuck in the cycle.

If that sounds familiar, congratulations: your relationship with money might be toxic. But don’t worry, unlike that ex who still watches your stories at 2AM, you can walk away from this one.🌚

Here’s how to start.

1. Call it what it is.

The first step is always honesty. Not the cute, curated kind o, the raw kind. Admit that you and money haven’t had healthy communication. That maybe you’ve used it to self-soothe, impress people who weren’t watching, or pretend you’re okay when you weren’t. That you sometimes give it the silent treatment, or worse, pretend it doesn’t exist.

You can’t heal what you won’t name. This is a breakup, boo. Play music, then pull up that budget template like you mean it.

2. Reclaim your self-worth.

Money is a tool, not a mirror. Stop measuring your value by what’s in your account, what you can afford, or how well you “perform” financially. You are not your balance. You are not your job title. You are not the number of zeros in your emergency fund even if your balance is looking like cumulative grade point.

Toxic money relationships thrive on shame. The moment you stop letting shame steer the wheel, you start driving again.

3. Set boundaries.

Boundaries with money look like,

Saying no to that casual hangout you can’t afford.

Deleting that shopping app.

Creating a spending plan (not a punishment, a plan).

Unfollowing accounts that trigger FOMO-induced splurges. This one might be hard for some people but that's okay but hear me.

Boundaries aren’t about restriction, they’re about safety and peace and finally sleeping at night because you didn’t spend your rent money on a “treat yourself” moment that lasted 6 minutes.

4. Start over, gently.

Like any breakup, healing takes time. Don’t expect to go from financial chaos to budgeting expert overnight. Take baby steps. Celebrate small wins. Laugh at your past self a little, she was doing her best, bless her heart.😒

Most of all, be proud. Because the moment you decide that peace is more important than performance? That’s when the healing begins and I want you to heal.

If you have recognized that you are in a toxic relationship and you need help walking through the heart break, you can tell me about it lets walk through it together. I got you.

Subscribe now

You’ve handled angry clients without cursing (out loud).
You’ve delivered orders, managed inventory, dealt with Nigerian logistics, and still had the strength to say “Thank you for your patronage.”

But when someone asks, “What do you do?”
You smile and say, “Oh, just one small thing I’m managing. Nothing serious.”

Why naawww?
Why are you calling the thing that pays your bills “small”?
Is it humility?
Is it fear that if you speak boldly, village people will hear and attack your POS machine?

Maybe it’s that good old Nigerian conditioning:
“Don’t let them know you’re doing well.”
“Shine, but don’t shine too much.”
“Announce progress, but only after fasting and three nights of vigil.”

Because let’s be honest:
Language matters!

When you say your business is “small,” you’re not protecting yourself - you’re programming your mindset.

You’re not just selling clothes on Instagram - you’re running a digital fashion brand.
You’re not “just doing hair” - you’re managing a beauty enterprise with repeat clients and seasonal peaks.
You’re not “just baking” - you’re running a food production company with quality control, packaging, and delivery.

Speak life into what you’re building.
Your words are seeds, and your mindset is the soil.
If you keep planting “small,” don’t be surprised when growth feels forbidden.

You don’t need to fake success.
Just tell the truth with your chest.

Try this next time:

“I run a growing beauty business.”
“I’m building a logistics solution for urban customers.”
“I manage a retail operation.”

Let your language match your effort.
Your hustle is not small. Your courage isn’t small.
So don’t let your words be.

Because once you name it right, the world begins to see it right too.

That’s how it always begins. A simple outing. A few friends, or let me say, your friend, posts that she acquired a new baby. The baby is a new phone, and then there's you managing your Pop 2. 😂 Another mentions a spa retreat as if it were a quick trip to their backyard. You smile. You laugh. You go home, and then you spiral.

Suddenly, you’re looking within like, “Is this…poverty"? You’re rethinking your career. Your life choices. Whether you should’ve gone into tech or started the business everybody is doing. Whether you should just marry.

Financial comparison doesn’t knock on the door. It kicks it open and throws your self-worth on the floor.

Why do we do this? Because money isn’t just about money. It’s about identity. Safety. Success. Status. We were taught (quietly, and then loudly) that your finances say something about you. Your discipline. Your intelligence. Your worth.

So when your friend buys a new gadget or new sneakers and you’re still paying off that cloth vendor since last year, it doesn’t feel like “she has more money” only, it feels like she’s doing better at life.

But that’s a lie. A big, shiny, Instagram-filtered lie.😂 I promise you.

Here’s what comparison doesn’t show you,

The account balance behind that new outfit.

The parent, quietly buying them stuff behind the scenes.

The burnout behind that job or business.

Comparison is an illusion. A curated one. You’re comparing your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel, and then punishing yourself for not matching it.

So how do you stop?

1. Ground yourself in your numbers, not your narratives. Pull up your finances. Look at what’s actually happening. Not what you feel is happening.

2. Get curious about your triggers. Ask: Why does her success make me feel small? Is it envy? Fear? Insecurity? Do I want what she has or just the feeling I imagine comes with it?

Sometimes we don’t want the thing. We want the ease it seems to represent.

3. Remember, different lives, different lanes. Your friend who’s earning more might also be carrying more risk, more pressure, more instability than you know. And even if your friend isn’t, it still doesn’t mean you’re behind.

4. Practice gratitude, but not the fake kind. Not “I guess I should be grateful.” Real gratitude. The kind where you look around and say, “I’m proud of what I’ve built. I’m doing the best I can. I’m learning. I’m growing. And that counts, too.”

Comparison is human but it’s also optional.

So the next time that spiral creeps in, pause. Breathe. Remember who you are and whisper to yourself,

Always remember. You can look at how far you have come and be grateful. You might not have everything you need now but that does not mean you won't have it forever and that does not mean that you are doing bad for yourself. You can admire others but do not let it shift something inside you that will make you begin to question your self-worth.

“My uncle sent my cousin to school in Canada.”
“My aunt gave her shopgril ₦1 million to start a business.”
“My godfather promised to sponsor me once I graduate.”

We hold on to these stories like they’re financial bedtime tales. And it generates a good level of Warmth and Comfort, whether or not we are the recipients of the promises.

But Here’s the savage truth: the “rich uncle” exists — just not for everyone. And often not in the way we fantasize.

Yes, some people genuinely get bailed out. But for many others, that promised helper is busy helping someone else. Or broke. Or just... silent. So while you’re sitting, waiting for a financial miracle in human form, time is passing. Bills are mounting. Confidence is shrinking.

Waiting for help feels safe.
It gives you someone else to blame if things don’t work out.
But here’s the inconvenient truth: your money journey is your job.

No one is coming to save you the way you’re dreaming they will. And even if they do, will you know how to manage the help when it comes?

The danger of the “rich uncle” myth is that it trains you to delay action.
– You don’t start the side hustle.
– You postpone learning money skills.
– You don’t budget because “someone will come through.”

But guess what?

You’re the helper you’ve been waiting for.
The one who can choose discipline over delay.
The one who can start saving ₦500 a week, even if it feels small.
The one who can open a free YouTube course instead of waiting for a scholarship.
The one who decides: “Help or no help, I’ll start by giving this a try.”

Wealth isn’t built on fantasy. You have to make small daily steps and believe you’d be better off for it - because in some way or form, this is always true.
So yes — pray. Hope. Receive help with grace if it comes.
But don’t build your financial life on borrowed timelines.

Start now. With your own hands.
Because when you do, something magical happens:
You stop waiting for a savior…
And you become one.

Damage

I want to talk about today, something very personal that a lot of us might be able to relate with, and that has plagued us either silently or loudly in ways we cannot identify. That is People Pleasing. I’d allow us assume whatever definitions we like but everyone generally (hopefully) understands that this entails going out of your way for others.

Think back to any time past in your life, where you made a sacrifice for someone, or went overboard and it was worth it. Better still, got acknowledged for it with cheers and commendations. That feeling of heroism. It is a dopamine trap that causes you to spiral into wanting to feel like that all the time. And for most people, if the pain of going overboard does not psychologically surpass the expected feeling of a good pat on the back for being a good person, they will always seize an opportunity to go overboard – even if it hurts them.

It is the consistent doing of things that diminish your personality or sense of self, in pursuit of a feeling, dependent on other people’s perception of a situation you may have sacrificed so much for, that favours someone else, that creates a special kind of damage to your being, known simply as people pleasing.

Then it’s too Late

After a decade or more of living your life based on the dictates of your perception of what society wants, something may happen to you that causes the scales to fall from your eyes. For most people, it’s heartbreak – romantic or filial from their family. This shows you that the next person is human, but it is not perceived this way; it is perceived as deep hurt and unforgiveness. For other people, it happens when they finally meet an idol, or a businessman they admired on social media, or their crush, and after having access to them for extended periods of time, they become disenchanted – this person is a normal living, breathing human just like me.

These kinds of experiences shock us back into a global and consistent truth – humans are, well, human.

No one is infallible, no one is pure, no one is God. Which loosely translates to, “Why then should I care since everyone will still die?”

Okay, so maybe not. But the point is, as you grow older you start to realize everyone is struggling just like you are in their own varying ways, and they are making assumptions, conclusions, and actions from their frame of existence – not yours. So no matter how ‘good’ you think you have been to them, the justification for their response is in how THEY have experienced it. Which is limited because they are not you.

Your Impact will be Undeniable

Sometimes, the response to doing a thing and not getting an expected outcome, is doing the same thing but louder or bigger. I honestly believe this is how addicts (for which a lot of us are addicted to at least one thing in this life) degenerate over time. So if you cut your self-worth into percentages, and when you use 5% to create a scenario that makes you feel good and you do not get the response you wanted, you then decide to cut 10% next time, and so on until you have nothing left to give, totally dependent on pursuing the very uncontrollable reaction of another human being.

The alternative will be to do a gesture so huge that no one can say you have not sacrificed enough and done your best. And while you may start thinking that I am talking about becoming a philanthropist, sometimes it could be owning material things – like a G-Wagon you really do not like the shape of, but just for the show status. Worse off if you cannot afford it – which is where we are going with all of this.

No one Actually cares about you - truly

Everyone cares about one thing – themselves. Which is why I have struggled with the concept of charity since I was young. People give because they like how it makes them feel, or because they know their religion demands it in exchange for eternal life for them, not the recipients of their charity. Anyway, topic for another day.

The point is that we are all the time thinking about ourselves. And so upon further examination, the G-Wagon you are driving is because you believe people will respect you more due to the car and that makes you feel great – in fact, more than half the time they are imagining what it would be like if THEY owned a G-Wagon. For all they care the car could have no one in the driver’s seat, and their reaction to seeing it would be the same.

You are only a channel through which they can experience what they really want. They are not happy or excited for you personally, not 100% of the time.

If it is true that no one cares about you, then why are you so inefficient in curating your experiences in life by relying on what they think to generate your personal fulfillment?

But But,

Whatever but’s you’re thinking of right now, you can articulate them in the comment section. Thanks

If this was you, here’s your Final Form

Unfortunately, there’d always be something you do, not because you want to, but because other people will appreciate you, and you like to get that appreciation. To the extent that this compromise keeps you at a reasonable level mentally and financially, I think it is healthy. What sucks is trying to keep up to a standard that drains your resources, and does not in fact give you the longevity of satisfaction that you need to justify such resources being used.

If for you this resource is money, understand that no one actually sincerely cares. They are at all times looking at what they can benefit. And this is not a bad thing, as mostly you may have value to give in return. But know at the back of your mind, that you need to set the lines you cannot cross, especially if the resources are financial or mental, and after setting those lines, bask in the simple truth, that you are enough as you are.

Subscribe now

There are three things you’re never supposed to talk about. It is more like, See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. The three things are politics, religion, and money and while the first two usually end in debates about whose grandma is more woke, money… money just ends in silence.

Not an awkward silence. A skilled one. The kind of silence we’ve perfected over years of dodging the question, changing the subject, or throwing in a vague “you know how it is” laugh when someone mentions rent, salaries, or God forbid, debt. I remember being uncomfortable talking about how much I bought stuff or how much I earned. I'm breaking out of that cocoon😂

We don’t talk about money. Not really. Not honestly.

And we need to ask ourselves why?

Shame is louder than truth.

For many of us, money talk brings up deep, hidden shame. Not just about how much (or how little) we have but about what that number means to us.

Are we lazy because we’re still in debt?

Are we irresponsible because we’re not investing yet?

Are we “doing well” or just pretending with?

We keep quiet because somewhere along the way, we were taught that your money is your merit badge. If you’ve got it, you’re smart, disciplined, worthy. If you don’t, you must have messed up. And so instead of saying, “I’m struggling,” we say nothing. We smile. We buy things we can’t afford to look like we’re fine.

Shame thrives in silence and silence keeps us stuck.

We were raised in secrecy.

Most of us grew up in homes where money was either a constant fight or a complete mystery. Either way, it wasn’t a safe subject.

You weren’t allowed to ask how much the bills were, or what your parents earned, or why the electricity got cut off that one time in July. Maybe you heard “we can’t afford it” so many times it became your internal soundtrack or maybe you were told never to talk about money in public, like it was some sacred, secret code.

We inherited silence.

And like any family tradition, if we’re not intentional, it keeps repeating.

It makes things feel unequal.

Talking about money reveals thing - income gaps, privilege, hidden struggles, or success we didn’t expect. That transparency can feel exposing, like we’ve taken off the mask we wear for the world.

But here’s the thing, silence doesn’t make inequality go away. It just makes it invisible. And invisible things are harder to change.

So how do we start talking?

Not with charts. Not with jargon and definitely not with shame. We start by telling the truth.

“I didn’t learn this growing up.”

“I’m trying to save, but I don’t know how.”

“I feel embarrassed about how much I make or don’t make.”

“I’m scared.”

Then we let those conversations live. Without trying to fix, impress, or compare. Just stories. Just honesty. Just humans, trying to make peace with money and each other.

Because the moment we speak, we’re not alone anymore and that changes everything. Do not be silent about you money concerns anymore. I let your tongue loose this minute. So, today purpose in your to speak up about your money struggles or anything you need help with your finances.

You will get help, I promise.

Subscribe now

Sound familiar?

You’re not financially unserious. You're just budgeting from fear. And maybe a lirru sprinkle of money trauma.

Most African-style budgets are not plans—they're panic attacks in Excel format or on a fancy app. Because on the budget you’ve unrealistically planned to:

– Cancel every soft life item.
– Saved large amounts like CBN is watching you personally.

That’s not budgeting. That’s penance. You’re not a sinner. You’re just trying to eat and breathe.

A good budget is not a punishment. It should feel like a hug, not a chokehold.

It should reflect your real life, not your dream life. It’s true that there are aspects of your budget that should lead you from where you are to where you want to be, but suffering unnecessarily in the process? O wrong naww.

Include joy. Include Jaiye Money. Include money for nonsense, if we’re being honest.

You can do something like this:
– First, budget what it takes to feel safe.
– Then, add what it takes to feel alive.
– Then, what it takes to grow.

Yes, some months you’ll overspend. Yes, some line items will embarrass you. (Why did you spend ₦100k on Chicken Chips in one month? It’s you and God that know.)

But if your budget feels like a prison, you’ll run from it.

Budgets don’t save you. Systems you trust do.

So build a routine that feels kind. Build a budget that respects your humanity. Let your finances breathe.

Because money isn’t just for surviving—it’s for building a life you don’t need to escape from.

Share

You open social media and someone just bought land. Someone else is taking a “quick break” in Zanzibar to “reset.” You, on the other hand, are on your third day of eating rice and stew, staring at your balance like it personally betrayed you, and wondering if you can survive another week on that last ₦2,802.17 in your account. Suddenly, you’re asking yourself questions you weren’t even thinking about five minutes ago: Should I be doing more? Am I behind? Is everyone levelling up but me? Should I just take that loan and figure it out later? You dey use your future to play.😂

That’s financial FOMO. Fear Of Missing Out,

but with your bank account involved. Let me tell you, it’s not just a mild feeling. It’s a full-blown emotional event. One that grabs you by the collar and whispers, “You’re not doing enough.” And in that moment, your carefully thought-out budget, your slow-but-steady savings plan, your quiet contentment, all of it starts to feel like foolishness. You begin to measure your entire worth by what you haven’t done yet, what you haven’t bought, or where you haven’t gone. It doesn’t help that social media is a nonstop highlight reel. You’re comparing your reality, unfiltered, messy, in progress, to someone else’s curated version of success, complete with hashtags and a cheeky smile.

Let’s be honest, financial FOMO is rarely about the thing itself. It’s not about the trip or the dinner or the designer bag. It’s about the feeling we think those things represent, ease, joy, security, importance. When a friend posts their new car or a colleague shares a property investment, it’s not just that we want those things. We want the confidence and pride that seems to come with them. We want to feel like we’re doing okay. We are young and getting it.

The danger is in what FOMO can make us do.

It convinces us to make financial decisions for emotional relief. To swipe the card we shouldn’t swipe. To say “yes” when we meant to say “not this month.” To perform a lifestyle that doesn’t align with our current reality, just to keep up. But what’s the cost of catching up? Because here’s what they don’t post: debt, the financial anxiety, the secret help from family, the moments of deep stress behind those public wins. and even if it is all real and all self-earned, someone else’s abundance isn’t proof of your lack. It’s just proof that life happens differently for everyone.

There is nothing wrong with building slowly. There is nothing wrong with budgeting. There is nothing wrong with not “soft-lifing” yet. What’s wrong is believing that your story is any less valid because it doesn’t sparkle on the internet. One day, it’ll be your turn to celebrate something huge and when that moment comes, may it be real. May it be rooted in peace, not pressure. May it be a reflection of your values, not your fear.

FOMO fades. Regret doesn’t. Choose the one that lets you sleep at night.

Subscribe now

A few days ago, I sat down and thought long and hard about how my life is currently going. I envisioned myself in so many places, doing big things, making waves. Not just surviving, but glowing, rising, thriving.

Yes, what most people might call delusion.

But it wasn’t delusion. Those were my dreams.

Big dreams.

Then while scrolling the internet, I saw this stunning set of jewelry, priced at over half a million. I touched my chest and whispered to myself, “You must touch this money.”

For a second, I almost added “by hook or by crook” (whatever that means), but I'm not a thief.😂

Still, scrolling, I realized something;

It’s easy to make it look like we just want money for luxury. For shiny things.

And yes, part of me does want to be able to buy whatever I like without scanning the price tag, without second-guessing myself.

But it’s deeper than that.

I've spent most of my life calculating.

“Oh, that footwear is ₦10,000. The other one is ₦3,500. Okay, give me the ₦3,500 one.”

Not because I liked it more. But because that’s what I could afford.

I don’t want to live like that forever.

And not just for me. I want to give everyone around me that kind of freedom, the joy of not having to pick life’s scraps because of a price tag.

These are some of the thoughts that keep me up.

This is why I want to make money.

So I asked a few friends why they want to make money too. And they had these to say;

Victor.

I want to make money first because I want to be comfortable and give those I care about a comfortable life. I don’t want to ever be unable to do something just because I can't afford it. And let’s be honest, money runs the world. It brings power, authority, respect. The elites have the money, and they’re the ones making the decisions.

John.

I want to make money so I can help the poor and make the world a better place, through initiatives where money is the driving force.

Faith.

For the sake of having it. If I have money, 90% of my problems are solved. Simple.

Karen.

I believe it's God's plan for me to prosper. I want freedom and stability. I want choices. I want to support the work of God, care for the people I love, and take care of myself without stress. Money is a tool—a way to live life with dignity, purpose, and impact.

Emmanuel.

I’ve lived in abject poverty. I don’t ever want to go back. That’s my motivation. Poverty is traumatic.

David.

It might sound shallow, but I want to make money so that no one can ever look down on me or reject me again. Apparently, women don’t like broke men.

Joyce.

I want to bring my kids into a better life that I did not have. That should be the least I can do for them.

This isn't just about making money, it's about healing, protection, freedom, control, love, validation. It's about saying, 'I don't want to live my whole life negotiating with lack'

About finally being able to exhale.

So now, I’ll ask you,

Why do you want to make money?

Be honest. You don't have to make it sound noble or impressive. Whatever your reason, it's yours and you're not alone.

We all want different things, but most of us are chasing the same feeling of Peace, dignity, safety, room to breathe.

So be honest about your "why". The one you say when no one is watching. Because until we're honest about the "why", we'll keep running and chasing numbers in the bid to make it. Murife stop running and start building!

I hope we all get to have the kind of life we want for ourselves. I hope you get there. And when you do, I hope you never forget why you started.

If you missed the last post, 'The Naira didn't hug Me back', you should check it out. It puts Chasing the bag in the coolest perspective. It's one thing to know your why, it's another thing to know how to go about it.

Thank us later.

Subscribe now