I'm Not a Machine
It’s OK to shake up the schedule
(If you’d prefer listening to me read out this letter to you—hit play 💚)
Heyyyyy! Heyyy! How you doing?
Sorry I’m getting back to you a week later than promised.
I actively work to be a woman of my word, so I struggle with a bit of shame when I don’t stick to the schedules that I set for myself.
I know, in the back of my head, that I’m writing to a friend, so I don’t even need to apologise—no one is actually upset with me about this. But this is how it usually plays out when things don’t go according to my original plan, the plan that comes with the illusion of control.
The voices in my head kick off with the lowest hanging fruit first: calling me lazy. A low blow that I learned how to block a long time ago, but e no mean say I no go chop am on a rough day.
Then, they hit me with a lack of discipline, which has some truth to it. A bi-weekly writing schedule shouldn’t be this hard to keep, right?
Finally, the anxious ones insist I don’t lose my streak. The fear that if I miss one letter, I’ll somehow lose the momentum and never send another one again. And so even as my body signalled me to stop pushing, I told myself I was making excuses.
It went like this: I’d sit at my desk, start my 1-hour timer, open my document to write, and then BAM—a wave of nausea mixed with a headache hits me even before my fingers start waltzing on my lightspeed keyboard.
By the third attempt, I finally noticed the pattern and immediately shut it all down. My attempts, my laptop, my mind.
I felt sad that I’d called it an excuse; I don’t want to be hard on myself, or doubt my body like that—not in this new creative life I’m trying to build, after years of forcing things and going against my intuition.
I took a few days to sit with it.
The first honest feedback I got from myself was that I’m doing things that are pulling me in different directions. Sometimes I want to write, and other times I want to photograph, and other times I want to film, and then other times I want to put them all together. And I’d have to admit that it is a complicated process.
A better way I am thinking about approaching this is: how do I harmonize them? How do I make my various interests work together instead of treating them like they live on separate planets? How can I allow my letters to inspire the stories I tell through film or photography, and vice versa? I’m still tinkering, sha.
The other thing I hadn’t been factoring in was my creative cycle. After time with my parents, I was engulfed in a creative burst. Between quality time, fresh food and fruits, Benin city breeze, finally getting my divorce papers… I came back to Lagos swinging (same thing tends to happen the week after my period). Some of my proudest works in Q1 came from that window.
I lost my mojo a few weeks later, and instead of noticing that I was in some kind of rut, I was insisting that I create at that same level. E no too poss.
What I’m learning is that the burst and the rut are both part of the cycle—I’m not a machine. So when the burst comes, I want to be ready to milk it dry with the big stuff. And when the rut comes, I can take on a smaller creative task. It’s all ebb and flow, not force and resistance.
The final thing is the schedule. I’ve been worrying about it a little more than I should.
This phase I’m in right now is all about experimenting. Getting my reps in.
And while some themes will stay consistent in what I do, I want to keep evolving in my how. That means I’m always trying new things. Some experiments might take a little longer. Like learning a new editing skill. Or maybe the letter I’m writing hasn’t quite landed at its ending yet, in spite of my consistent effort.
A lot of self-trust has been developing in this phase. I know when I am wasting my time or dragging a tweak longer than I should. I know when I am faffing about and when I am in flow, I know when I am worrying about the 10% when it’s 90% ready.
That being said, I have to trust this experimental phase and approach it with less pressure, while keeping myself honest. A consistency in efforts might not always equate a consistent posting schedule. Right now, it’s ok to shake up the schedule. Flip it, reverse it, throw it away for a while.
Sometimes shit isn’t ready on time, and that’s expected.
Also, it’s OK to take a break and have fun abeg.
I’ve had 4 of my closest friends visit in the last two months. They have never all been in Lagos around the same time as me. It felt like the stars aligned (even though one of them had threatened me since last year to not go anywhere during their visit window). I’ve had to play host, driver, nanny, tour guide—all with great pleasure, but my routine was truly out of whack, and I still made time to do a little something every single day.
Again, I’m not a machine. Sometimes I just need to rest it out, and I reject approaching this path as some non-stop hustle. I am trusting that what is for me—projects, people, even the stories—will come to me at the right time.
I want to be a great storyteller, but not at the expense of my well-being, or enjoying a few too many nights out in a row with my community (and my muse), or the experimental nature of the learning process.
The journey has always been the most fun part for me. The destination is the cherry on top at best. And I suspect that it's one of the phases I’ll miss the most. All the creative freedom without worrying too much about how it comes across. The novelty, the high of finally figuring out how to do a thing after hours of trial and error. The explorer in me is treating all of this like a real expedition, and I’m thoroughly enjoying updating the life map with every adventure and the stories born from them.
I feel it in my bones that this is all going to be better than I could ever imagine. I know in my heart that there’s a world where I can go about it in this fun-experimental-intentional-communal way and still attain all the things.
And when the voices in my head say: “Most likely, yes, but success in this approach is going to be much slower than you think.”
I respond with—We’ll see. I’m not in a hurry anyway.
I wasn’t prepared for how much excavation happens the more I create ngl.
I’m here for it, sha.
I hope to start catching the danger signals my body throws me a little earlier than the third attempt. But right now, I would like to clap for myself instead.
Only three flags and no self-destructive attempt?
Proud of me.
I’m also happy to report that I wrote this letter a few days later, without any nausea or headache. I’m feeling much lighter and having even more fun approaching all of my creative work, not just the writing.
And that’s on turning the curiosity inward.
Stay curious, my darling.
Osẹ̀
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