Diary of a 20-something Nigerian: my fitness journey, mental illness, and bad restaurant reviews
It’s 9:30 AM, Thursday 18th of April.
If you had told me three years ago that I would be working out five days a week (running inclusive. I’m now a runner, you guys. Insane.) I would have told you you didn’t know me very well.
I finished a workout this morning and was taking a shower when I randomly thought, like play like play, I’m a very physically active person. It snuck up on me because in my head I’m this lazy ajebo boy who only likes books and music.
Even as I started to take my fitness more and more seriously, my mum was shocked. While in school I was so averse to any form of strenuous movement, and I had zero interest in sports.
I mean, I still don’t give a damn about sports, don’t get it twisted.
But I’ve found a genuine love for movement and physical activity.
I’m very proud of myself.
There’s been setbacks and pauses, and it’s definitely been a slow and (mostly) steady journey, but here we are.
I started working out almost purely for vanity.
I’ve never really wanted to be muscular or buff (which is great because I don’t like gyms) but I wanted to be defined, lean and toned. So, I don’t remember exactly when, but I got into it.
The thing about working out for something as fickle as vanity is that it is great motivation, but that drive doesn’t last.
It’s the most cliche thing in the book of advice that everyone on earth seems to be reading, but it’s true.
At least, for me.
Wanting to look better started me off well, and I wasn’t looking to lose any weight, so I imagine it was easier and I saw gains faster.
Then the desire to look a certain way waned — I wasn’t feeling motivated enough to get up and do a difficult workout that promised eight abs and a nicer butt or great shoulders.
It was too hard, abeg.
So, I decided to stop working out for a bit. I think it was a few weeks or months, can’t remember now.
Anyway, I realised if I really did want to continue working out, if I wanted to make it routine and not just a fad, I’d need a more sustainable reason than just looking a certain way.
Not that I think there’s something inherently wrong with working out to achieve an aesthetic goal, what I mean is it can’t be the only reason you work out.
If it is, you might do some crazy things just to achieve that, and they could be detrimental in the long term (diets and weird fasts and overtraining and stuff like that).
But, I’m not holier than thou. I do like how my body looks because I’m physically active, but it’s sort of taken a back seat.
Now, I work out mostly because I actually enjoy it.
I know, I know. It sounds like a big bucket of horseshit, but that’s really it for me.
When I realised that, oh, I really do enjoy how I feel during and after physical activity, that became my drive.
Notice how I used “physical activity” instead of working out or going to the gym?
When I started working out, I’d subconsciously concluded that working out was a one-way street. It was push-ups and crunches and squats and bridges and all that.
During my break, I realised that okay, when it doesn’t feel forced and I’m not pressuring myself, I enjoy being active, so that means I can do other things too. Other activities.
I accepted that it may take me longer to look exactly how I wanted to look, but it was honestly not that important anymore.
The point was (and is), that I like taking care of my body, I like how it feels, I like that it makes me stronger, I like that I can do it. Then, I like how it makes me look.
A kind of rearrangement of priorities.
So I slowed down working out a lot and started just doing things I enjoyed doing. Walking and taking yoga seriously were the first things I did.
Wow, I’ve written a lot.
Anyway, if you want to start taking your fitness seriously, I recommend you leave specific looks or aesthetics out of the thing. Focus more on the process, and most importantly, find a process that you actually enjoy, then do more of that.
It could be running, walking, boxing, hiking, tennis, swimming… anything.
And stop putting pressure on yourself to look a certain way, just take care of your body. That’s how it starts taking care of you too.
It’s 7:00 PM now
So, for work, I’m producing this article about mental health struggles that people go through in Nigeria, and so I’m speaking to people about their experiences and wow.
People are going through a lot in this country o.
Chronic depression, borderline personality, anxiety, PTSD… it’s crazy. It really drives home the saying that you never really know what anyone is going through.
It makes me want to get a psych evaluation because I’m pretty sure I have some form of OCD? I have a lot of obsessive and compulsive traits. But I’m also not interested in finding out that much (because I’m scared), which I guess is a privilege.
I really only need two interviews for the piece, but I’ve received a lot of responses, so I think it would be unfair to restrict it. I still plan on publishing only two, but I want to talk to a bunch of people first and then narrow it down.
I’ve spoken to one person today, I have two tomorrow, and then probably another over the weekend.
Wish me luck!
It’s 1:00 PM, Monday 22nd April.
It feels like the weeks are spinning out of reach, wow.
It’s Monday again?
Anyway, yesterday I went out for drinks with a friend to this horrendous restaurant.
It was one of those trying-to-be earthy and cultural affairs with outdoor seating and trees and all that.
First off, they had less than 70% of what was on their menu. Not a single cocktail (the only thing they had was vodka and beer).
Now, if you don’t know, I love a good cocktail.
I think they’re a fun and easy way to try new things and feel good in the process.
Anyways, they also didn’t even have a good beer (not that beer is good, but bear with me guys), they now brought us Heineken.
That was the worst thing I’ve ever drank in my life. 0/10 would not recommend throw into a dumpster fire immediately.
As if that was not enough, they now didn’t have chicken, so I couldn’t get the chicken fried rice on the menu, and the only thing they had was smokey jollof and asun.
At this point, I was dragging my friend for suggesting this dangerous place, but I said it’s alright.
Next thing you know, flies descended from above and decided they wanted to eat our food with us, I said God.
Who sent me to this place? Who do me this thing?
Then the smokey jollof rice. Hm.
If you told me to find the smoke in the jollof I would have died searching.
It was so rice-and-stew coded I was pinching myself that don’t we have rice at home? What’s all this?
Anyways, the asun was nice but it was now tiny.
The only good thing was that I was there with a friend and we gisted the whole time.
I can never go back to that place sha, I’d rather swallow a plastic cup.
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