Another Thursday is here. The week is crawling, the sun is boiling, your boss is asking for reports you’ve not started, and your account balance is blinking like a faulty traffic light. You’re wondering how you got here, a full-grown adult with responsibilities, bills, and back pain from simply sleeping on the wrong pillow. You think about your childhood and ask yourself, “Why was I ever in a hurry to grow up?”
As kids, we wanted nothing more than to be adults. Adults seemed so powerful. They didn’t get shouted at for watching TV late, they could eat meat at will, and they had money, or so we thought. Nobody warned us that adulthood is just childhood but with invoices, heartbreak, and a permanent state of tiredness.
Now, every morning, you wake up to alarms you snoozed six times already. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, not because you’re planning your day, but because you’re mentally negotiating with life. “Should I go to work today or sell puff-puff for a living?” You check your phone, hoping for a credit alert. Instead, you see debit alerts you don’t remember approving. Even your bank seems to be more active than your village WhatsApp group.
You drag yourself out of bed, manage to brush your teeth, and remember you forgot to buy foodstuffs. Again. You consider fasting, not for spiritual reasons, but because there’s literally nothing to eat. You open your fridge and it greets you with air. You sigh and move on. There’s no time for emotions; you’re already late.
Transportation is another daily trauma. Whether you’re in Lagos, Ibadan, Abuja, or even small towns, something always goes wrong. The bus conductor never has change, the bike man wants to charge you like you’re headed to Canada, and Uber prices rise like bread on public holidays. If you drive, you’re battling traffic and praying your fuel doesn’t finish in front of LASTMA. You finally get to work, sit at your desk, and stare at your screen like it holds the meaning of life. But it doesn’t. It just holds Excel sheets, emails from HR, and a Google Doc you opened one hour ago and haven’t typed a single word into.
Adulthood is not a linear journey. Some days you feel like you’re thriving, you clean your room, cook real food, drink water, reply to emails, and even stretch before bed. Other days, you’re a hot mess, eating biscuit and Coke for dinner, dodging calls from people you owe, and wondering if this is how your life will be forever.
And then, there’s social media, the headquarters of pressure. You open Instagram, and someone your age is buying their third car, opening their fifth business, and flying to Dubai “for mental clarity.” Meanwhile, your own mental clarity is in the hands of PHCN and your data balance. You try to stay positive, but comparison creeps in. It feels like everyone else has the cheat code except you.
But here’s the truth nobody says loudly enough: everyone is winging it. Even those with pretty feeds and perfect captions are just trying not to crash. Life is hard. Being a Nigerian adult is even harder. From bad governance to bad roads, unstable electricity to unstable relationships, the obstacles are plenty, but somehow, you’re still standing.
Adulting teaches you strange skills. You learn to act like you’re fine when you’re not. You learn to smile through stress. You master the art of stretching ₦5,000 for one week. You can cook without gas, survive without light, and still show up at work looking like a respectable citizen. That is talent. That is resilience.
It also teaches you gratitude. You begin to understand the joy of peace and the satisfaction that comes with small wins. Finishing a task on time becomes a celebration. Finding cheap yams becomes a breakthrough. Sleeping without waking up with neck pain? That’s a miracle. Every little good thing starts to matter more because the big wins don’t come often, and when they do, they rarely stay long.
You realize that nobody really knows what they’re doing. Everyone is just trying. Your parents, your boss, and your friends are all navigating life one mistake at a time. There’s no manual. No roadmap. Just faith, food, and the occasional motivational quote that actually makes sense.
So, maybe growing up isn’t what we thought it would be. It’s not about constant wins or having all the answers. It’s about showing up when you’re tired, laughing when you feel like crying. Saving money you don’t even have. And hoping that somehow, all the madness will lead to meaning.
You are not failing. You are just a human in Nigeria. You are tired because life is heavy. You are confused because the path is messy. But you are doing better than you think. You are learning, growing, stretching. You are becoming strong, smart, and full of stories. Stories you’ll one day tell and laugh at, even the ones that don’t feel funny right now.
So, breathe. Drink water. Call your friend. Eat that rice with no meat. Rest. Reply that email tomorrow. Life will wait. It’s been waiting. It’s not going anywhere.
And if no one told you today, you’re doing a great job. Even if all you did was survive. That’s still something.
Thanks for sticking around for another episode of Thursday Chronicles.
Adulthood may be a scam, but at least you’re in good company. We’ll meet here again next week, same space, same laughter, same relatable madness. Until then, keep going, one small win, one awkward laugh, and one late-night Google search at a time.
