Breathe

A love letter.

Every new year rolls around for me with a buzz under my skin.

The desire to do more, to revamp my life, to pour fresh fuel on my relationship with God. To plan, to dream, to ideate, to work, to work. So that I can be enough.

Like clockwork, the articles, videos and podcasts start flying around.

How to plan your year.

How to revamp your life.

How to become that girl in 2026.

How to improve your walk with God in 2026.

How to… how to… how to.

Before you know it, the buzz has turned into a restless roar. My heart is racing as I try to absorb as much information as possible, frantically opening YouVersion for a new Bible in a one-year plan and saving videos on YouTube and articles on Substack to view later.

I bookmark and tab every project that comes to mind.

My mind scrambles for an anchor. I want to do it all. I want to become it all. I don’t want to fail. I cannot fail.

It’s January 1st, what do I want for my life? What are my goals for the new year?

What are my actionable steps for growing in my relationship with God? How am I contributing to the development of the body of Christ?

What are my plans for myself? My education? My career? My blog?

If I don’t know it all now, how will I start the work that is required for it?

Did I do enough last year?

I need to figure out my life!

BREATHE!

A hand grabs me out of the water, and my head breaks through the surface. I inhale a big gulp of oxygen. The air caresses my burning lungs.

Breathe!

I take another breath. It’s painful to breathe.

Breathe.

My eyes pry open, and I see the sun.

Breathe.

As I’m pulled to the shore, hacking my lungs out, trying to expel the remaining fluid… I think back to 2025.

And how no amount of planning could have prepared me for what the year held for me.

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I remembered Q1 of 2025, when I came in with so much fervour and passion. Dreams and hopes (some may call it delusions of grandeur). Plans for how my year would go.

I held on to the garment of Jesus so tight I was sure I would never let go. It was impossible. I carried Jesus on my back.

In the middle of Q2 of 2025, my fingers slipped, and I panicked. And I scrambled to hold on, scrambled to keep him on my back. I was carrying him… I couldn’t let him fall. What would become of me if he fell? How will I ever show my face? Fear of letting go, of losing him, kept my heart pounding, and my throat clogged. Every moment of prayer punctuated with “God please, God please.” I’m sure in my ‘2025 Wrapped’ of heaven’s scroll, that would be my most recorded prayer point.

In Q3 of 2025, the pressure threatened to end me. I believed I was failing God, failing myself. A sequence of bad events that looked like confirmations of God’s displeasure. Anxiety and fear became my constant companions. I was always afraid, always anxious. Every decision was made with such a lack of certainty that I’m surprised I even made them.

In Q4 of 2025, I finally saw that all along, God carried me.

When I felt like I was the one holding onto him, he was carrying me.

When I believed my hands were slipping, he was carrying me.

When the pressure brought tears to my eyes, he was carrying me.

The testimony of my 2025 is that God worked it out and that God carried me.

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Yesterday, the term ‘faith over fear’ suddenly flashed through my mind.

And it suddenly dawned on me that faith and fear are not so far apart in terms of the feeling they might arouse in you. The presence of faith doesn’t totally mean the absence of fear. It means ‘in spite of fear’.

Every time I dared to act, to pray, to dream, to hope. Every decision I made, even when I was so scared I could pee. They were acts of faith, but I didn’t know.

While I was busy giving too much credit to the devil, beating myself up and crying, God was asserting over and over again that a life put in his hands can never be mismanaged.

He was the one who stirred to pray even when all I could say was “God, please.”

He was the one who gave me the courage to make decisions that filled my arms with goosebumps.

I realised, yes, I was afraid many times in the moment, of little things like “what if it doesn’t work out after all the effort I put in” or “what if I fall and embarrass myself”.

But because of God, I was never afraid of the big picture of my life. I never believed my future was threatened.

So in truth, if you have put your life and the outcome of your existence in the hands of God.

And all you remember when things get tough, when you’re scared, uncertain, or weary is that:

“God cannot mismanage my life.”

Then you have more than enough in your arsenal.

Because Oranmonisefayati¹ always. Always.

Until we become,

Ihunanya.

Song recommendation:

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=BgnmyyYQ1Gg&si=SOOBnsZXvrPeeh58

1. Oranmonisefayati: A Yoruba proverb that means "The one who sends a child (or person) on an errand and pushes/backs him with His chest" (or full support).