FOLA'S HAVEN

So, I get nudged to write about relationships. I did a lot of that on my old blog. I wrote about navigating singlehood and living alone in the UK.  It was chaotic. Haha. Love doesn’t always end in betrayal or heartbreak. Sometimes, it ends in an airport terminal, with tight hugs, teary eyes, and a promise we both know we probably won’t keep: “We’ll make this work.” When I got the opportunity to move abroad, it felt like everything I had longed for was finally aligning. New job, new culture, new adventures.  But hidden in the excitement was the slow unraveling of a love I thought could withstand the miles. If wishes were horses..... We tried to prepare. We talked through the hard stuff.   For a while, it worked. Calls during lunch breaks,  surprise gift deliveries across continents. It felt like we were still “us.” *Yinmu* Until we weren’t.  Distance doesn’t just stretch geography. It stretches emotions, conversations, and eventually, patience. The silence b...

 When was the last time you truly paused and told yourself, "I am doing well". Not in a loud, boastful way, but in a quiet, reassuring voice—the kind that sinks into your soul and reminds you that, despite everything, you are making progress. Life moves fast. It often feels like we are racing against unseen deadlines, measuring ourselves against milestones that society has set.  We compare, we criticize, we push ourselves harder—sometimes forgetting that simply surviving, growing, and showing up every day is already a victory. But today, let me remind you: You are doing well. You Are Doing Well, Even If… You are still piecing your life together, one small step at a time. You wake up some mornings feeling unsure, but you get up anyway. You carry silent battles that no one else sees, yet you keep pushing forward. You have taken detours and unexpected pauses, but you’re still on your journey. I used to think that progress had to be loud and visible. That if peo...

 The immigrant journey is often painted with a broad brush of resilience and success. Society loves stories of those who "made it"—the entrepreneur who built a business from scratch, the professional who climbed the corporate ladder in record time, the student who became a shining example of excellence. But beneath these triumphs lies an unspoken burden—the immense pressure to succeed quickly. The Weight of Expectations For many immigrants, success isn’t just personal—it’s communal. The moment you step onto foreign soil, you carry the dreams, sacrifices, and hopes of those left behind. Parents, siblings, extended family, and even entire communities look up to you as their proof that a better life exists beyond borders. The expectation is clear: Don’t just survive—thrive, and do it fast.  Note the word "FAST". This pressure comes in different forms: The urgency to secure a well-paying job, even if it means working multiple shifts. The need to send money bac...

  This is not my first time moving from my home country to another land. But this time, it’s different. I have to remind myself that there’s so much at stake. I am no longer the starry-eyed young woman who left family and everything familiar years ago to chart a course for her life. Back then, I wasn’t afraid—I had no real commitments, except for a relationship that was alive today and dead tomorrow. Now, I am responsible for three human beings. Hey God. Two of them have their futures tied to the choices I make, whether good or bad. If this isn’t the real definition of “God abeg,” then I don’t know what is. The Language Barrier: English, but Make It Confusing One of the biggest hurdles for immigrants is communication. And I’m not just talking about learning a new language—because, as a proud English speaker who scored a 9 in IELTS , I thought I had this covered. But here I am, struggling with accents, slang, and professional jargon. The first time someone said, "You bet...

  Hey everyone, It’s been over a year since I last wrote here. Today is Saturday, and for the first time in a long while, I feel truly happy. My sister passed away on a Saturday, and ever since that heartbreaking day, Saturdays became something I dreaded. Since September 23, 2023, I’ve found myself staying awake through Friday nights, carrying the weight of those memories into each Saturday. But then, I started filling my Saturday mornings with praise and worship. Some days, the tears still come. I wrestle with questions about God’s love and mercy. Yet, over time, something shifted. I began remembering my sister without breaking down. Sometimes, I even imagine conversations with her, hearing exactly how she would have responded, and I find myself laughing out loud. I miss my sister, I miss her laugh, I miss having her here. I have my Saturdays BACK!!! Today, I braved the cold to go look for yam. People of God, the joy in my heart after eating boiled yam and egg sauce is the ginger ...

  Today makes it exactly 40 days since you left us on this side.  It has not been easy, some days are good and we laugh through the pain.  Some days are horrible and we cry all through but even in the tears we hear you, we see you and we feel your presence. Olajumoke Oyeronke Abosede , my hardworking sister.   The day you were born I became a big sister, and the day you left you became my guardian angel. You wore so many hats with grace.  Never one to show pain except when absolutely out of your power.  Of all the special gifts in life however great or small, to have you as our sister was one of the best gifts. And deep in our hearts we keep your thoughts to always love and cherish and never to be forgotten. When someone you love becomes a memory, that memory becomes a treasure.  Thank you for the life we shared little sis. You are loved and will be missed forever. Fare thee well my beloved, until resurrection day.  Until then...this is In Lo...