Writing in November is always hard, but I don’t want to use November as an excuse. The truth is, I’ve been struggling to publish as many monthly posts the as I used to. Before, writer’s block showed up occasionally and left after a few days. Now, I don’t even think I can call it a block — it feels more like an absence. Minimal inspiration, no motivation, even though I’m still present and involved in the things that once fueled me.

2025 has been consumed by uncertainty for me — uncertainty in several pivotal areas of my life. I’ve had many days where I questioned whether the things I’m looking forward to are even worth anticipating. I’ve felt stuck, anxious, quieter, and unwilling. Yet somehow, I still found ways to tick boxes on this year’s goals, because I know nobody is coming to save me.

November is always a hard month for me. It’s the month my mum was born and the month she died, and I feel her absence more sharply during this time. This year was no different. I still wonder if it will ever get easier — if there will ever come a time when I discover how to lift the weight or shift the pain into something lighter.

One thing this year has taught me is that even people who have lived through experiences similar to yours may respond differently—and most times, they expect you to react the way they would. When you don’t, they misunderstand your silence, your pace, or your choices. I’ve had to remind myself repeatedly that they are not me. They don’t carry my history, my triggers, my exhaustion, or my healing. They don’t feel the weight I feel in the same way, even if they’ve walked a similar path. Accepting that has made it easier to stop explaining myself or trying to fit into responses that don’t belong to me. 

Shopping and travel became the vices I leaned on heavily this year. Were they the best decisions for my savings and investments? Probably not. But were they what my mental state needed to keep going? Absolutely yes. Sometimes survival doesn’t look wise; it looks like whatever helps you move through the day. And this year, these were the things that did.

It’s 16:53 on a Thursday evening in Lagos as I write this. I have gym in an hour, and I’m actually looking forward to leg day. At least the gym is one thing I can look forward to without effort. I’m also taking a module from an online course while updating my November goal sheet.

Still, I don’t want to disregard the goodness this year and this month have brought. There have been sweet, unexpected, unplanned moments that I refuse to take for granted. Not everything was heavy — and that matters.

December is almost here, and above all, I’m thankful.

Mariam Shittu