This week came at me with everything. The to-do lists were endless, the expectations felt heavier than usual, and there were moments I genuinely wanted to unplug from the world and vanish into a quiet, green field somewhere far away. But in the middle of it all — the noise, the pressure, the mental clutter — I found pockets of peace.
They weren’t grand. They didn’t come with fireworks or fanfare. But they grounded me. And sometimes, that’s more than enough. So, here’s my soft, unspectacular, very real list of little joys that kept me sane this week.
A Song That Brought Calm to the Chaos
I stumbled across the song “Ije Love“ by Chale ft. Kaliné while watching the Nollywood movie Breath of Life. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to get emotionally attached to a soundtrack. I was just watching the movie, but the moment that song floated in, I felt it.
The melody was simple, stripped down, but rich with feeling. It wrapped around the scene like silk. It wasn’t dramatic or loud, just soft, emotional, and incredibly moving. That was the moment I discovered two incredible artists I hadn’t known before: Chale, whose voice carries this earthy sincerity that feels so real, and Kaliné, whose tone glides like wind but hits like a wave.
There’s something beautiful about discovering artists this way — no hype, no radio play, just raw connection through sound. After the movie, I went looking for the song like someone chasing a dream they didn’t want to forget. Ever since then, the song has been a permanent feature on my personal “keep me sane” playlist.
And it’s not just that one song. I’ve found others like it — mellow, soulful tracks that act like background prayers. Music that doesn’t distract but anchors me. They create this gentle emotional padding around chaotic days in a way that says, “It’s okay to slow down; you’re safe here.”
On weeks like this, I don’t blast music to escape. I layer my day with sounds that soothe. Songs like “Ije Love” help me create an atmosphere that feels soft and slow, even when everything around me is anything but. And honestly, that atmosphere makes all the difference. It gives the chaos a backdrop of calm, a kind of inner soundtrack that reminds me I can still find peace even in the swirl.
Cooked Corn, Blanched African Pear, and a Rainy Day
Rainy days in Nigeria hit differently. The thunder rolls in low and heavy, and everything slows down. This week, during one of those unplanned rainfalls that turned the sky grey and the streets slick, I got served the classic combo: cooked corn and blanched African pear (ube).
There’s a nostalgia to that meal. It tastes like childhood, like lazy weekends, like being wrapped in a wrapper while watching raindrops race down the window.
I didn’t rush through it. I sat by the window with a bowl of steaming yellow corn, savouring it with some succulent ube. The contrast of the slightly salty corn and buttery pear hit just right. And the best part? I let myself enjoy it. I wasn’t scrolling on my phone or checking notifications. I just ate. Slowly. Fully present.
Sometimes, peace is not in the big moments. It’s in the corn you take your time to chew while the world outside is soaked and still. 😉
The Drive That Cleared My Head
One afternoon, right when I felt like my head was about to explode from the weight of overthinking, a friend called. No long speech, just, “Are you home? I’m coming to pick you up.”
I didn’t argue. I was badly in need of a break, and here it was. I just threw on a fez cap and slipped into the front seat when he arrived.
We didn’t have a destination. We just drove. Windows rolled down. Music low. That warm, familiar hum of tyres on smooth road filling the quiet spaces. And somehow, the movement was enough. Just moving felt like exhaling.
We made random stops for street food. Nothing fancy, just the good stuff: suya, roasted plantain, puff-puff and drinks. Some we ate under makeshift wooden sheds, with the scent of spice and smoke curling through the air. Others we ate right in the car on the go.
There was no forced conversation. No expectation to say something meaningful. And that’s the thing about being around people who really get you. You don’t have to fill the silence with noise. It’s safe. Comfortable. You can just exist.
We cruised like that for a while, eating, observing, and breathing. It felt like stepping outside of time. Like I was watching my worries shrink in the side mirror, mile by mile.
That drive reminded me how healing it is to simply be. No pressure. No plan. Just road, food, quiet company, and enough peace to carry you through the next wave of noise.
A Phone Call That Shifted My Mood
Midweek, I got a random call from a friend I hadn’t spoken to in a while. It wasn’t planned or prompted by anything urgent. She just said, “I was thinking about you. How are you really doing?”
Something about that “really” opened the floodgates.
We talked for 45 minutes. Nothing dramatic, just everyday things — weird dreams, things we’re trying to learn, how tired adulthood makes us, how healing is expensive both emotionally and financially. We laughed about silly mistakes we’ve made and encouraged each other through the messes we’re still figuring out.
By the end of the call, I wasn’t necessarily “better,” but I was lighter. It reminded me that genuine connection doesn’t need perfect timing or grand gestures. Sometimes it’s just someone asking a real question and sticking around long enough to hear the unfiltered answer.
The Moment I Actually Paused
There was a night this week, one of those nights when you’re tired, but not the kind sleep fixes. You know the type.
Usually, I’d reach for my phone. Scroll. Escape. Numb.
But for some reason, I didn’t. I put it down, lay back, and just stared at the ceiling fan spinning slowly. I didn’t try to journal or meditate or even think. I just existed.
That moment felt strange at first, like I was missing something. But then, it felt peaceful. No pressure to be productive. No urge to perform healing. Just quiet. Just breathe.
And you know what? That pause gave me clarity. Not in the grand, lightbulb way but in the quiet, I can try again tomorrow kind of way.
A Gentle Reminder I’m Holding Onto
If there’s one thing this week taught me, it’s that joy doesn’t always scream. Sometimes it whispers.
Sometimes it’s found in a rainy day snack, a soulful song, a slow drive, a phone call, or a few minutes of silence before bed. You won’t always notice these moments in real-time. But when you look back, you realise they were the thread holding you together.
It’s easy to overlook these things. The world rewards loud wins: big breakthroughs, flashy announcements, and bold productivity. But the quiet stuff? The small comforts? They matter too. Maybe even more.
So if you’ve had a tough week, if things haven’t gone to plan or you’ve felt a little disconnected from yourself, try this: look back at the tiniest things that made you smile, even if only for a moment. They count. They always count.
And if you’ve got nothing? That’s okay too. The fact that you’re still here, still reading, still showing up, that’s a kind of miracle too.
Stay frosty.
