Keep Riding (The PH-Episode)
There’s something about the “ember months”, it either comes with a dynamic twist or a gut wrenching kick in the stomach.
30th October 2025.(Prologue)
I keep waiting to be in the “right” state of mind before writing this newsletter. But alas, there are somethings you can only wish for when you’re fighting for your life.
I don’t have a lot to say, rather I have a lot of unprocessed thoughts. So instead of writing a new newsletter, y’all are going to get the unpublished piece from last month with sprinkles of side notes here and there. (Don’t worry it’s a good one. I promise.)
10/09/25
It’s 11.45pm, and I’m all alone in the common room, my laptop screen light illuminating the dark room as I try to assimilate as much information as possible. But something doesn’t feel right. It’s my chest, it’s tightening but this time it’s a little different from normal. It feels like my heart is in a little box, a box that keeps shrinking in size, squeezing my heart in with each shrink. This doesn’t feel like a panic attack, I think I’d had enough to be able to identify it when it happens. (Or have I?)
I wrap my hands around my body, legs folded under, trying every breathing exercise I can remember. As my eyes blur out the words on the screen, a thought slips into my mind, “If I fall out of this seat and drop to the floor, would anyone know? Would anyone notice I’m gone? They probably wouldn’t find me till the next morning.”
My laptop screen finally gives in to the idleness and goes off, as darkness engulfs the big empty room, my mind races back to the incident that happened about 23 hours ago.
I was back in this exact room, laptop on the desk, pen in hand. I heard the footsteps first, and I dismissed them. Girls in this hostel are often up to something, I thought. That thought had barely registered in my mind when I heard the shout “Fire”. I froze for a bit, pen hanging in the air mid-sentence, “Fire” the voice came again, but this time it activated all my senses. The scrambling footsteps were louder now, then came the banging, doors were being slammed repeatedly, and worst of all, I began to smell smoke. Immediately, I slammed my laptop shut, picked up my phone and ran to the door, leaving behind my lamp (a stupid decision because everywhere in the room was dark). I made it to the door, and as soon as I opened the common room door and peered outside, it was like hell had broken loose in the corridor. People were shouting, running helter-skelter; a few of them held their lamps and torches, so the dark corridor was dimly lit. The continuous cries of fire were deafening. I dashed to my doorstep, continuously screaming my roommate’s name from where I stood ( I dare not go into the room, it was too dark, and I wasn’t sure what the situation was.) As I stood by the doorstep still screaming, I felt several bodies pushing mine, before I could realize what was going on, my body was submerged into the crowd and I was barely moving of my own volition. Suddenly, I was on the stairs with different women running all around me, all of them trying to get away. I knew in that moment that if I didn’t move, I might fall and be trampled upon. So I went with the wave, now that I was in the middle of the chaos, the banging feet grew louder. I only realized that I was outside the building when the wave of fresh air hit me in my face but I didn’t stop there. Before I could reckon what was going on, my feet began to run towards the campus gate. I guess my brain believed I could get help there for some reason. I was almost at the gate when I heard my friend’s voice calling to me that help was already on the way, and that I should come back.
In ideal NLS fashion, the fire was put out, and within minutes, we were told to wrap it up and go back to our rooms. My roommates and I begrudgingly went back inside, everyone making jokes about it now but deep down I knew. I knew that the repeated thudding of those numerous feet trying to get away from danger, the sound of those scrambling footsteps wouldn’t leave me for a long time.
The slam of a door brings me back to my senses. I take a deep breath, yesterday is gone, forever. I am safe. I am not in danger, and I need to get back to my books. I unfold my feet and dropped them to the ground, pick up my pen, tap my screen back to life and switched on my reading lamp.
I can’t let fear consume me now. It’s too early, no matter what kind of fear it is, either academics or whatever. I cannot let it take over. If I snooze and it does, I will crumble. And I can’t let that happen.
Too many things are at stake.
It’s 2 am, and I finally make it back to my room. I stared at the depressive state of my bed and sighed. Not only do I have clothes all over the bed (I have had that going on for days), but the state seems to have deteriorated now. Books are strewn all my little corner; textbooks, notes, jotters and printouts. I didn’t realize when I stopped putting everything in a pile. Heavens help me, because why am I seeing half of my jewelry on my bed? I won’t be surprised if an earring pricks me while I sleep.
My bed space mirrors my state of mind right now. I’m not surprised; when I was back home, anytime I was troubled by something, my wardrobe was always a mess. I’ve tried so hard to keep it all together since I’ve been here but I guess my act is already failing.
“I should get to it tomorrow though, even if it’s just to clear the bed” I mumble to myself as I shove the cloth pile to a side and slide into bed. (Like I didn’t say those exact sentences yesterday and the day before.) I guess I will get to it when I get to it.
15/9/25
“Happy final week of lectures” I said to my friend excitedly.
“What’s so exciting about that?” She asked
“Well, 5 months ago we came here with a dream...” The rest of that sentence is barely out of my mouth before another friend of mine chirps in “70 days to the Bar Exam”
It was now my turn to glare at her.
Even if I try I can not say much because those 5 words topple my excitement. I went from being eager to attend classes, to sleeping through the session. Not a quick snooze where I’d jolt back awake, I mean this was a proper nap. Head down and all. Not the best way to begin my final week, I know. (To give myself a lirru bit of credit, I barely doze these past few weeks. So yeah, it’s been a long time coming. ) If I want to be completely honest, I know the classroom siesta is due to my terrible sleeping routine these days. My reading time keeps slipping into my nighttime rest; now, sleeping at odd hours of the night seems to be my routine. I guess it can’t be helped at this point.
To be honest, this past week has been a lot for me emotionally. At this point, I just wanna go home, and not in a “l need a break” kinda way but in a “Can we skip to the ending already?” way. Like someone should put this thing on fast forward. I’m not really looking forward to the exams but the fact that I can go back home without the academic worries after seems like a promise of bliss. I miss my best girls so much. I miss eating good jollof rice.
21/9/25
A lot can happen in 72 hours.
The mystery of time leaves me in wonder.
In the past 72 hours, I attended my final law school lecture, attended a night party (yep, I didn’t think that through, but anything for the plot, right?), packed my things in a last-minute rush and journeyed to another state for the second and final half of my Externship. (Someone said I’m taking full advantage of my time away from home. What can I say? I love adventures.... Sometimes.)
Slowly but surely, my law school journey is coming to an end. I get to go home. (Finally.)
“The Last Lecture”, they called it but to be honest, it felt just like a regular lecture day. (My bad, my fault for expecting something extra.) In pure NLS fashion, no time for feferity (pardon my vernacular). I remember my first week here (barely), but seeing the finish line moving closer, I don’t know whether I should feel relieved that the end is near or I should be freaking out because the end is near.
Law school is a lot, they tell you but you know what you shouldn’t do in law school. You shouldn’t get involved in emotional scuffles, I promise you, NOThing is worth your sanity and concentration here. NOTHING!
The dynamics of two different relationships I endeared changed this month. In the end, one got salvaged and the other one..... (Let’s just keep the words in the wind for now, maybe one day ink will flow regarding it. Till then ...)
25/9/2025
My coursemates were called to the largest Bar in West Africa today.
My friends are lawyers.
Whooshhhh, it is a big deal. As the day went along, I was sliding from one DM to another. For a slight moment, it felt like deja vu. I remember the day I wrote the piece Occupational Hazard. That piece was published 3 years ago but I could sense similar emotions coming up. The only difference is that, unlike 3 years ago when I was stuck in bed with my worries, today I was up on my feet, up and about, wearing my worries like a second skin, with my sense of humour and loud laughter covering it up as usual. This world has a cynical sense of humour, while half of my coursemates are getting called to bar, the other half are running around under the terrible weather trying to locate mostly inexistent firms for their law school Externship. (I know, life is all about stages but mehnnn.)
It all didn’t occur to me how much pressure I was taking in. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for my friends, I really am. They all worked so hard to reach where they are. However, the moment the excitement wore off, I realized how much of a facade I was putting up. Today just serves as a tipping point for me. The pressure finally broke me; silly me, I didn’t realize it until I broke down in the middle of the estate during my night walk. I felt the tears on my chin before realizing how my chest tightened, I couldn’t breathe, and I started palpitating. I knew I had to get off the road, reach out to someone, call for help. But the truth is that no one can help me but myself. I’m all alone in this one; it’s a race against time, and I’m losing. The question “Can I do this?” “Will I make it?” Keep going around in circles in my head. “I’m scared”, I finally admitted sheepishly “I’m tired.” “I’m exhausted” “I don’t think I want to do this anymore”.
“I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?”
My arms robotically increase the volume of the music blasting out of my earpods, tears pouring from my eyes, with silent rhythmic sobs, as if keeping to a beat of its own.
I didn’t stop walking though, I kept moving in the empty street, the faint street lamps being my only source of light.
27/9/2025
In my first month in Yenagoa, I got mild food poisoning. Upon leaving home in April, my mom got me a range of medications in case of any medical mishaps. (It was a walking pharmacy tbh.) The problem is that my scattered head didn’t label which medication was for what, so I ended up mixing them up. After several unsuccessful attempts to reach out to my mum, I called my older sister, who took time to explain what appropriate medication I was to use. She ended that particular conversation with a sentence that stuck with me for a little while. She said, “So you mean you cannot take care of yourself when you’re alone.”
That sentence came back to me again a few days ago when I took ill. I knew something was wrong, I realized I was coming down with something, but I took no precautions. I felt weak and was sleeping unnecessarily. I kept getting angry with myself and attributed it to me being lazy and not wanting to pick up my book to study. Not until my Mom called to check in, she knew I sounded off, talked me through it and told me what medication to use and an additional one to get.
In conclusion, maybe I am a 23-year-old who can barely care for herself. (In my defence, I’ve only been an adult for 3 years.) Like Jollz said, “My 23 is showing.”
Growing up with loads of anxiety and no sense of direction, my mom took me for every professional exam that required me to go far from home. I remember my friends making a jest of me after my mum took me on my first day of internship. It might sound ridiculous to you, but seriously, I don’t think I would have it any other way.
Fast forward back to the present, I’m all by myself in a new state. And yes, I realize how much I depend on my Mum for the simplest things. (Lol, you’re free to judge if you want. I wouldn’t be writing this down if I hadn’t processed it. )
This law school journey has been an eye-opening one. (And I’m learning a lot about myself and how I relate/respond to people and my surroundings.) I’m currently in my third new state this year, even though I’m definitely taking my time, I am starting to learn how to maneuver myself around each city. (Most of them) I am learning to be independent. Taking it piece by piece, day after day, mental health in shambles, anxiety flowing through my hands in the form of sweaty palms. I’m gonna get there. Eventually...
30th October 2025 11:20pm (Epilogue)
Life plays a cruel game sometimes. One moment you’re excited that your law school journey is finally coming to an end, the next moment you’re breaking down in the bathroom, water gushing out of the tap drowning the sound of your tears because of how unprepared you are for the end of it all. One moment you’re laughing loudly and making jokes, the next moment you’re falling apart while sending a long voice note to your siblings telling them how exhausted and drained you are.
For a little while, this month I could breath. It was like my brain pressed pause, and in that moment I let go. I slept a lot, even though a part of me felt i didn’t deserve it. But I slept regardless, I took breaks, I went for walks, I perfected my riding skills. (Call me for any riding competition this December, I will floor your trainer.) (Laughs in unbelievable bragado).
I am back in the Yengs now, no more nightly bicycling routine for me. (Back to the real world) But I’m holding unto the bit of relieve I felt in the city of Port Harcourt. The feeling of the wind tugging my scarf as I biked around, music blasting in my ears.
I have decided to take the days bit by bit,
I will keep on riding my bicycle, making my way through the bumps and potholes, but I’m still riding. Even though I’m scared and worried and I know I’m still far from my goal. Even though a part of me fears that I might not reach my final goal before I reach the end of this law school journey. Regardless, I’m still riding. I’m savouring my good days and not letting the bad ones over ride it all. Hope is all I have now. Hope is all that keeps me going, because giving up is not an option. (So, slow and steady it is.)
I’m not going to be hypocritical or lie to you. A huge part of my fear is based on the fact that at the pace I’m moving I know it takes only a miracle for me to be ready in time for the bar finals. But all I can do is hope. (So if you can, say a little word of prayer for this writer. I’m going to need it.)
In fact, if you know any Bar Aspirant, try to put a little word to the Lord for them. We need all the help we can get.
To my fellow bar aspirant, the end is nigh (It’s up to you to decide if that’s a good thing or not)
I do hope you got a little from my not-so-long rants.
Till the ink flows again and I get the courage (and time) to be back in your mails.
Adios Amigos
The Chaotic Overthinker 🌹
Video of the day
This video is for those already entertaining thoughts of giving up.
You're not allowed to.
You must keep going.
I cannot wait to celebrate your resounding success with you and read a newsletter where you look back upon this day and sigh breathlessly with relief at how you scaled this phase! God is in this story and he will make you a victor, Nofeesah❤️🥹
This article comes at the perfect time, and your courage to share such raw, unprocessed thoughts about the struggle to even begin writing, especially after your previous newsletters, truely resonates.