"Progress not Perfection"

A few months ago I wrote about the phrase, "be kind to yourself" and what it meant to me.

I recognized that for a good part of my life I went through this cycle of abandon, guilt and then punishment when it came to my physical appearance.

I decided to stop. I stopped comparing myself to others, I stopped depriving myself to fit into a mold, I stopped feeling guilty. I stopped thinking or I tried to. I'd be lying if I said I succeeded in undoing years of programming that taught me I wasn't the standard when it came to beauty. The motivation, however, behind it all was to be kind to myself.  I think in that respect, I'm loads better.

Now it's time for me to re-interpret what being kind to myself means in my life. For me, I believe what we put in and on our bodies is important. I believe what we consume has the power to heal and that everything we need to be our healthiest and happiest is provided by the earth.

So as I approach 30, it's really important to me that I make my health a priority. I choose to do that by consuming foods that will serve a purpose in my body and by making sure I'm strong.

I'm sharing this on social media because I want us all to think about ways we can be kind to ourselves. Sometimes that means not beating yourself up for having a slutty brownie or three. Other times, it means drinking your green smoothie and working out.

Balance :)

To All The Boys I Loved Before.

Be Kind To Yourself

I moved to San Diego to learn some things about myself and it's definitely happening.

My friends tell me all the time that I'm too hard on myself. I am... but in a very funny way. I think it's good when you can poke fun of your flaws and shortcomings; I'd rather tease myself than take myself too seriously or become one of those people that actually think their shit doesn't stink.

With that said, I've noticed that people I've only known for a month are saying the same thing. ‎

I was talking to my new roommate and joked about something (probably my ass) and he said "it's better to come from a place of positivity when you're trying to change something you know?" 

Whoa. ‎

First of all: Yes, Jack. Yes.‎

Second of all: What kind of energy am I putting out there that makes people notice that I'm my harshest critic?  ‎

I'm ready to change.

First order of business? I'm going to be kind to myself.

It's the phrase I constantly repeat to myself these days. Be kind to yourself. I think we all could do a better job of showing ourselves some compassion. I'm applying this way of thinking to every aspect of my life.

For example, when it comes to my body, I am way too fixated on looking a certain way. I had a folder of over 300 pics of women's bodies I wanted on my phone. I write "had" because I just deleted all of them. It's one thing to be inspired by someone, it's another thing entirely to value her or his body over your own.‎

Every time I want to beat myself up for not being skinnier, more successful, better at adulting, I'm going to remind myself to be kind. It's not about excuses, being lazy, becoming complacent. It's about continuing to push oneself to do better out of love instead of hate. It's about ackowledging my successes instead of harping on my failures and it's about making sure everything I do is coming from a place of positivity.

Who's with me?

Hi, I'm Juwon and Sometimes I'm Sad.

It’s okay to admit that you’re not okay, take the necessary steps to take care of yourself, and work on making things better. Not only is it okay, it’s really important.

Bad things happen to all of us. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: what these past few years have taught me is that a “good life” isn’t about the ways you are blessed, it’s about getting up and walking forward when everything goes to shit.

 I wrote about my father’s death a lot on my blog. And I’ve written about my brother-in-law’s death. It’s not a fun, light topic so I’ve been reluctant to really open up about it, especially to strangers who don’t know me or my family.

 I sometimes wonder if part of that reluctance to write about the more personal aspects of my life stems from fear of judgement. I certainly don't want to be looked at differently or considered "emotionally fragile". I don't identify with that; if anything I see myself and anyone else who has been through some tough situations as a hardcore motherfucker.

Anyway, I want to help people and I’m hoping "sharing" does.

I have a lot of experience being a caretaker. It’s not easy. It’s physically and emotionally exhausting and if you’re not careful, it can really put you in a funk. I found myself in that exact situation in 2015. I recognized that while I was busy taking care of others and - let’s be honest - distracting myself, I was not taking caring of myself. Physically I was fine but I wasn't taking care of my mental health and I wasn’t even praying anymore.

I kept myself busy with anything I could because if I stopped for a second to self-reflect, I would burst into tears. I knew I needed to take care of what was going on before it became a problem.

A lot of people were confused about my move. When I wrote my last post and mentioned how I still struggle with the death of my dad, brother-in-law and dog, some reached out and told me they had no idea I was so sad. I think I speak for everyone who has ever lost a loved one when I say you never stop being sad about it. I think over time we adapt and learn to live as the people our experiences have made us.

That's what I'm trying to do.

Why San Diego?

Some people have asked me why I moved to San Diego. There are so many factors that went into making this decision.

 One: I HATE winter in the Northeast.

 I hate it. Snow is stupid, being cold is the worst. To me, hell is a frozen wasteland where I have to shovel all day every day while my hat keeps on sliding off, the wind feels like a slap to the face, my lips are cracking and I can't feel my fingers and toes.

 So the weather was a huge reason.  Also, this lady on a plane told me to.

I was on my way to Nigeria from NYC with a layover in Paris and I was seated next‎ to this French lady on the way to visit her mother. We chatted about books mostly and then she asked where I lived. At the time, I was in CT with Yemi. I asked her where she lived. She replied, "San Diego". She met her American husband in France and followed him back to SD and she's lived there since.

She talked about how beautiful it is and I told her I always wanted to live there. She then asked me, "are you married?"
 I said no. 
 She asked, "do you have kids?"
 I said no.
 She looked at me and said "what's stopping you?"

 The lady made a very valid point.
 It took me a couple of years but I made it, nice French lady.

 Aside from that, I decided to move to San Diego because my heart is broken.

Is that too honest? Well, it's the truth.

 Dad, Jay, Scooby. Losing them hurt so much and I never dealt with it. I just threw myself into looking after my loved ones so I didn't have to address my feelings too deeply.

I'll get into this more another time since it's so heavy and this post was meant to be easy breezy, like all of my stereotypical assumptions about Californians.

 Long story short, I decided to move to San Diego because I wanted to enjoy sorting myself out while wearing a sundress.

Has anyone ever moved to another town for a random reason? I'd love to read about the experience that led you to where you are now.

West Coast Living in 2016

"I want to love all of my life as much as I love this night".

That’s a quote from this book series l love (shout-out to authors Christina Lauren and to Laineygossip for recommending their romance novels).

 I didn’t remember that quote until I was in NY one night with my friends, laughing (I don’t remember about what) and it hit me. I understood what the protagonist meant when she said she wanted to love all of her life as much as she loved the moment she was in. 

 New York was supposed to be a bon voyage of sorts for me. A goodbye to my twenties if you will. A goodbye to selfish asshole living. A goodbye to nights fueled by vodka and Redbull. A goodbye to cheese (for real this time). 

 Anyway, it was my summer of fun. It was great. It was exactly what I needed when I needed it.

 Do I have to say goodbye?

 I mean, I’m okay saying goodbye to cheese. What really made this summer great was feeling like I was an active participant in the world again. It was the feeling that I was actually living, I was working towards something, I was experiencing, learning, discovering. No one should ever say goodbye to the things that make them grateful to be alive.

 Being in love with every aspect of your life is an amazing feeling. I decided to chase that feeling. 

 I chased it to San Diego.  So I'm in California now.

Don't ask me to explain why, this post is already way too long.

Everything about life right now is new, terrifying, and exciting! I'm in a completely new place and I don't have my tribe of amazing family and friends to rely on. I have to be everything for myself right now.

 I am so far away from my comfort zone, I don't even remember where it is, guys.  But that's when things get interesting, right?

New York, You've Been So Good To Me.

As I wrap up my summer of fun in my favorite city, I wanted to take some time to reflect on what being here has done for me. 

 When I was trying to figure out where I wanted to attend esthetician school, I gravitated towards New York City for many reasons. One, it was familiar. Two, some of my favorite people live there. Three, in my opinion, NYC is at its best in the summer, insane heat and all.

 I craved the mind-numbing effect being here has on me. I wanted the distraction. Yep, being here has been one big distraction. Now that I've been here for four months, I feel the effects of long hours in a classroom, not enough sleep, way too much alcohol, barely working out and a diet that was totally not vegan at all.

 Despite the trauma I may have subjected my body to, I feel pretty fantastic.

 With the long hours of classwork comes new friendships and a certificate that says I am a trained esthetician. The lack of sleep was a small sacrifice to make for the countless nights I spent chatting with my friends all night. The alcohol... okay, I probably could have cut back a bit but merriment and wine go so well together. As for the lack of exercise and the questionable diet, eating like there was no tomorrow was fun but I'm more than eager to get back to regular workouts, and the fruits and veggies life. 

 With the plans I have, I know spending months at a time in the states is a luxury that I'm not going to have for much longer. I'm okay with that. I'm ready to roll my sleeves up and get to work. I'm just happy I got this blissful summer. I'm going to cherish everything about it.

So... This happened.

Greetings to the handful of you that still read this blog! Your dedication is admirable. Truly though, if you do still check this blog, thank you. I am the worst when it comes to updating the site with new posts. My embedded videos never come out right. My photos aren't going to win any awards. I appreciate the fact that you guys read Nogobelieve anyway. 

So, as you may have noticed in the pic I posted, I'm in scrubs. Why am I in scrubs? I'm back in school. I've been in school since June 1st.

Let me go back a bit, explain what happened.

This year I finished the final draft of the manuscript I have been working on since 2013. I'm incredibly proud of it and I hope people get a chance to read it soon.

There was a huge, hefty sense of relief when I finished the last round of edits. But then I had a reaction I didn't expect.  

With the book being done, I didn't have a project. It was the first time in my life that I wasn't actively working towards something. That made me feel like I didn't have a purpose. That made me feel SHITTY .‎

After a week-long pity party, I mentally bitch-slapped myself, sat down and wrote a list of things I could do based off of my qualifications. I could move back to NYC or VI and work in magazine editorial again. I could work as a ghost-writer. I could go into marketing or PR. 

None of those options were remotely appealing.

It was time to do something different.

 Most people who know me know it's always been my wish to go back to Nigeria and open a business. I always pictured myself owning a shop and dedicating my evenings to my writing.

My mom and I have talked about opening a spa or health-foods store in the past. It was one of those "some day" conversations. But why wait for some day? I decided to just go for it .‎ I'm in school taking the first step towards making our dream a reality. 

When I graduated from university, I told my parents to cherish my BA because it was the only degree they would ever get from me. So no one is more surprised than me that I willingly go to school Monday through Friday, 9am-5pm. I freaking love it! I can't wait to share what I've learned when I'm done.  

Jealousy is a Waste of Your Time.

I was talking to a friend about Instagram and some of the people we both follow and she told me that she unfollowed a lot of people recently. When I asked why, she said seeing those women post pics of their seemingly perfect lives was making her feel insecure and jealous and she didn't want that kind of energy around her so she just stopped.

I totally get. It's so easy to forget that what people post on social media is an edit of their lives; all of the fat days, zit days, no-sleep-last-night days etc. are left on the virtual cutting room floor.

But for me, I love following people that I admire. It inspires and motivates me. This wasn't always the case.

I remember being a teen telling my mom that I was jealous of a girl. I'm not sure why but  I think it was something about her skin (I've dealt with cystic acne since I was about 10). My mom told me back then, "instead of wasting your time being jealous, why don't you just ask and find out how she did it?" It never occurred to me that I too could get what another girl had just by asking how and then working for it.

I didn't actually take my wise mom's advice until a few years later when I was in college. I was walking on a treadmill, pre-occupied with the lady in front of me because of her perfect ass. It was a phenomenal, perfectly shaped, non-jiggly ass. I remember being so annoyed, thinking "why does she get to have a perfect butt and I'm stuck with this cellulite-ridden backside? That bitch. Life is so unfair, woe is me, wahhhhhhhh."

I was actually heated but my pity party was cut short when I remembered what my mom said. What was the point of being jealous? It didn't help me at all. It wouldn't make my ass look like hers. Just like that, I made a decision to stop wasting my time being jealous of other people. If I wanted something, all I had to do was work hard for it.

I jumped off of the treadmill and approached the lady with the perfect ass. I told her I loved her butt (because flattery never hurt one's cause and it was the truth) and asked what she did to keep it looking amazing.

Lunges.

My point is, let those who have what you want motivate you. Make them your allies in reaching that goal, not your enemies. At the end of the day success in anything is about hard work and no one can do that work for you.

Besides, nobody likes a hater.

Comfort Zones Are For Bitches.

Today I officially start my job as Senior Staff Writer for HELLO! Nigeria Magazine.  


Taking this job required me to make some major changes. I'm working in an office again so I had to say goodbye to working in my pajamas (sad face).

I'm also moving to Lekki from Alagbado. I'm going to live by myself again. I can't just buy a plane ticket to New York on a whim anymore either. I have co-workers again. I'm moving to, arguably, the most exciting area in Africa.

Things have changed. 
I'm petrified. 
I'm excited. I'm worried.

I'm still working on the book project in the midst of all this change. I still have Yoruba lessons and tennis lessons (did I mention that I have somehow morphed into the African version of a WASP?) 


I'm working on resuscitating my social life so there's that. There's also my awesome family to consider as well as downtime for reading and watching my TV shows. And this blog (hahahahaha).


I keep wondering, "can I handle all of this?" 
I am notorious for turning down great opportunities because I'm worried I'll be "overwhelmed". I run in the opposite direction if I even anticipate there will be more stress than I can handle.



You know what? Fuck it. Maybe I need more stress in my life. Stress-free living is for retirees and stoners.

Don't Chase It.

I read a quote on someone's instagram: 

When you stop chasing the wrong things, you give the right things a chance to catch you.

I don't chase. I wait and move forward at the same time, my hands open and ready to catch what comes my way, hopeful that I will receive what I'm meant to receive.

When Being Kind Is Not Okay

I went to a high school that had signouts (think slam books meet yearbooks).

In my signout, almost everyone who wrote in it commented on how nice I was. They encouraged me to never change, remain "sweet and kind".

Kindness was my identifier. I happily claimed it and still do.

So don't take my recent post encouraging everyone to be a 'selfish asshole' as a war on human decency. I think the best decision I make every day is to be kind.

I'm about that 'love thy neighbor as thyself' life.

It's just that... recently I've begun to realize that being nice all the time is one of my biggest flaws.

I recently found myself in a situation where I had to say 'no' to someone. It doesn't matter who it was for, what it was, how I said it. Those are details. What's interesting is what happened later.

I was depressed. I'm talking a loss of appetite, lack of motivation to do anything, fatigue, a general funky mood.

It wasn't that I was sad I said 'no'. I'm confident that I did the right thing. It's the fact that I put myself in a position where I was not the 'nice one' that's bothering me so much. I, Juwon Ajayi, was not accommodating.

The thought that saying 'no' meant there was a person out there that may not like me really upset me.

That's just not okay.

I love the saying "don't mistake my kindness for weakness". I've used it a lot in the past. But seeking the approval of others is weak. Bending backwards so people are pleased with you is weak. Inconveniencing yourself so that people are always happy with you is just stupid.

I'm writing these words and I'm still struggling to understand that it's okay for me to say no. I don't have to win "Miss Congeniality". I don't have to be liked by everyone.

Why is it so important for people, especially women, to seek the approval of others? Were we just raised to be docile and amicable?

It kills me that I am so invested in others' opinions of me. I wish that weren't the case. It is something I am actively going to work on.

If you willingly allow people to walk all over you, then tell yourself "it's the Christian thing to do", are you really living an admirable life?

My Summer of Living.

I am a daydreamer. I think I got that from my dad. I can spend hours lying down and imagining a life where I'm a shop owner, an archaeologist, a critically acclaimed writer. I imagine myself in Turkey, in Oman, in Portland, Sydney, Paris, Morocco. I imagine myself cliff-diving, skuba-diving. I imagine myself as an adventurous woman.

Someone once told me that I think too much. He said "people who think don't DO anything".

He's kind of right. I spend more time thinking of an amazing life than living one.

That ends now people.

My dad was so busy working that he didn't leave Nigeria the last 20+ years of his life. I respect his hustle but it makes me sad that my father, who had been to countries in five out of seven continents when he was younger, got so caught up in work. He'll never get to take my mom to the small town outside of Vienna that he lived in when he was a young man. We're never going to take that trip to Dubai I talked about obsessively when he was sick, thinking sheer will would keep him alive.

I'm so done with daydreaming. I'm not rich but I have a job that pays well enough and allows me to work anywhere with wifi. I'm not married, I don't have kids, I don't have any responsibilities that require me to stay anywhere.

I'm out.

I declare the next few months, the "summer of living". I am going to do as much as I can while I'm visiting family and friends in the states. I'm going to see some new things, meet some new people. And when I get back, I intend to continue doing so.

 It is so easy to get caught up in the details required to run our lives. Those lives of ours are short. Death is inevitable. There's nothing any of us can do about it. But If we're going to die tomorrow, shouldn't our bucket lists be shorter?

Fitting in is Overrated.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. I made raw carrot cake (recipe coming up) and we ate that with corn on the cob and ewedu soup because we are weirdos. Then we watched The Proposal for the 100th time because Mom loves Sandra Bullock. It was a very chill day.

My mom is the best. She has the biggest heart and is open and always lends a helping hand. She also worries. She could win a medal for worrying.

My mom said the sweetest/saddest thing to me while we were chatting about her and my dad. She said she was scared for me because I'm a fish out of water and while she loves that I'm with her in Nigeria, she feels like I'm never going to make friends. If I don't have friends, I'll never meet new people. If I don't meet new people, I'll never date. If I never date, I'll never have a boyfriend, never get married, never have kids and BINGO!

It always comes back to kids for my mom.

Anyway, I was touched. I know she's worried about me but I do have friends. And I personally like being a fish out of water. I'm used to it. When I'm in the states, I'm the African girl. When I'm in Nigeria, I'm the American girl. I can't change how I'm perceived and I learned a long time ago not to sweat it.

I'm not going to lie. I miss my siblings. I miss my friends. I miss America. I miss fast internet. I miss Whole Foods. God, I MISS TV.

I miss constantly.

At the same time, I get paid really well to do what I love full-time. I'm working on my first book. I'm traveling to places I've dreamed of going to for years. I get to spend time with my family here and learn about a culture that has shaped every aspect of my life.

My point is, fitting in is overrated. So is being comfortable. I would much rather be different, push myself, step outside the proverbial box and live in as many different ways as possible. I lived in the states for most of my life. It's scary living somewhere else. It's scary being surrounded by people who think so differently.

In this case, scary is good. Try scary and see what happens.

Life in Pics: Ipetu House

Progress.

Ipetu Ile April 2013.

Losing Daddy. One year later.

I wrote this on the one year anniversary of my dad's death but I didn't post it. Here it is:

It's been a year since he died. I've been thinking about this day for a while now. What was it going to be like when my family and I reached that point in our journey? How would we feel?

Well the day is here. I don't know how everyone is feeling. I know I'm a bit surprised. I'm surprised by the normalcy of today. I originally planned to spend the 10th of May at home, allowing myself to cry if I wanted to, stay in bed, sleep, whatever. I was going to allow myself to be sad.

Well I ended up having to run an errand that could not be held off till Monday. I was really annoyed at first. Then a friend sent me a funny message. I replied. I smiled. I sent out messages to other people and before I knew it I was going about my business and the day went by.

Life.

I felt a momentary pang of guilt that I was okay today. Then I mentally shook myself. My dad was a lot of things but he was not frivolous. If I went through with my original plan, he would have told me to get up and shower. He would have said people who stay home don't make money. He would have asked how being lazy was honoring him.

This last year was really hard. I love my mom but it's been an adjustment living with her, finding the balance between being a daughter and a friend. What I've learned is time doesn't make the grief of losing a loved one easier. We just get better at coping. We get stronger. We change out of necessity for the sake of our sanity. We realize we live in a world where prayers go unanswered. We realize we are not special, that there is a plan bigger than our wants. We get up in the morning and go about the business of living. We may be a little less happy. We see our lives for what they really are, fleeting, but we get to have lives and that is a gift. We appreciate that more because we know.

I'm different now. It's not good nor is it bad. I still don't know why things happened the way they did but I can honestly write that I accept that I will never understand.

Life.

 I love my dad and I pray to God that I am making him proud.

Freedom.

I was never meant to be a little girl. I never possessed the light heart of a child. I never learned how to live with the abandon only innocents possess.

To me, actions always had consequences. This left me to grow up a little awkward as I waited for my age to catch up with my mind.

It finally did.

Being a woman is unapologetic. It's liberating. It's wisdom. It's freedom.

I wouldn't trade the years or turn back time for anything.

What do you guys think?

Romance Is Stupid.

Ladies, am I alone here?

I don't know if this is because I've seen too much (I know I sound like a war victim).

Regardless of the reason, I'm not into the lovey-dovey stuff.  While I'm cool with it in movies and on TV, romantic gestures immediately make me suspicious in real life.

The problem with a romantic gesture is it never feels genuine to me.
Forcing it lacks sincerity.
A lack of sincerity in anybody is not cool but in a guy, it's a total lady-boner killer.

You say "I've loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you."
I think "You don't even know me! I could be crazy."
Then I think "this guy is either a liar or really stupid."
And... I can't be with a stupid person.

So keep your roses and other cliche gifts. Don't come to me with poems or grand declarations of love a day after we've met. I don't believe a word you're saying and now I think you're cheesy. And possibly stupid.

Am I bitch for feeling this way? Probably.

Am I cynical? Definitely.

But am I alone? I don't think so.

It goes hand in hand with not wanting some emo dude who believes real love is intense and all-consuming and making love (ugh) is supposed to make you cry.

Like really?

I believe there are plenty of women who don't want an Edward/Romeo/Stefan (Insert mopey, sensitive, pop-culture character). I believe there are women out there like me that want to laugh with someone, not sit in awe trying to absorb the magnitude of feelings he evokes or some shit.

Love can be epic without the angst and feelings and tears, right? What do you guys think?

Fatty Logic.

So I've been exercising regularly since January. I run up and down the stairs and do strength exercises and I've gone from being a "as long as it didn't use to move" vegan to a "I like to eat clean so no white flour, rice, sugar" vegan.

And you know what?

It's working. Dammit all that talk about exercise and watching what you eat is true. I've lost weight, I have all this energy, my butt looks good.

 So why oh why did the universe see now as a good time to let my knee problems flare up?

I'm in so much pain. My knees are killing me. They hurt when I climb the stairs, they hurt when I sit, they hurt when I kneel down to greet the old people and they even hurt when I stand too long.

 I'm 27. This is messed up.

Now, I read that a strenuous exercise like stairs should be done every other day so your muscles have time to recuperate. I will admit that I said "eff that, burn fat burn" and did it every day. So I basically screwed myself because now I have to cut back.

The plan is to increase my strength exercises to help my knees muscle up or something. I'll also walk on the days I don't do stairs and hope that it helps.

My point? Basically my knee problems bummed me out big time. Because I've been working so hard and I feel like the stairs were my secret weapon. So what did I do to console myself?

I ate a big bowl of banana pudding yesterday. I made it with the intention of only indulging in a little bit (1/2 a cup) every day. Well that went out the effing window. Banana pudding pie was my lunch, snack and dinner.

That was yesterday. I told myself "no more!" after I finished up my bowl, and promised myself I'd be good today. But then I found pop-tarts and it had been such a long time and I decided "screw it" and ate four.

Inner Dialogue: Fuckity fuck Juwon! Really? Four pop-tarts! FOUR? How are you even functioning? What's wrong with you?

Before, I never really felt guilty about what I ate. Now, I truly feel bad for putting so much crap in my body. I'm still undecided on whether this is a good thing (because being healthy is important) or a bad thing (because I'm also letting societal pressures dictate how I should look).

Oy vey.

I leave you with this:

I won't.
I shouldn't. 
I'll only have a little. 
I'll start over tomorrow. 
Screw it, I've already messed up. 

Fatty logic.

*Banana Pudding Pie recipe coming soon.

My Life in Pics

NYC 2012.