Punch Softly

I lack accountability...

If this blog starts to feel like a personal attack, it is…

The life-imposed slump I found myself in the past few weeks made me a little more introspective than I’d have liked. Lessons on rest, health, separation and my personal favourite —boundaries imprinted on my mind like bible verses in times of spiritual strife. While this went on, work hit me with insane curveballs, and the male ego did not release its proverbial chokehold on my reasoning.

Dear Men, why is your ego so reachable?

That was not rhetorical. Me and all the girlies genuinely need to understand why you choose detrimental stubbornness over logical reasoning. Why do you major in tone when a clear message is being passed? Why you skip past understanding and rush straight to defending harmful behaviour simply because your feelings were hurt.

Now, I know I’m likely dismissing what you consider a valid reaction to perceived hurt on your side. But here’s the thing: the whole world has seen things from “your perspective” since the beginning of time. Let’s step away from that for a second and consider the other side. Novel concept—I know.

I started this as a rant that would turn introspective, but I’ve had weeks to simmer down and rethink whether the guns should blaze or not. I’ll let you decide if they came to play.

In the time since I settled on the title for this piece, I’ve experienced necessary separations that I want to briefly touch on for closure. The last time I explored the complex emotions I felt about the neglect and disrespect I endured in a friendship, I was approached by a familiar third party in a bid to censor me. Now here’s the thing: I don’t think they knew they were inadvertently trying to silence me, because their judgment was likely clouded by the side they’d already chosen in the conflict. They only realised how hurt I was when they imagined walking in my shoes and discovered they’d be far more offended than I was if they were on the receiving end of their own “voice of reason” speech.

This situation was uniquely irritating because the entire time the conflict was active, I pointed out that they’d picked my aggressor’s side and didn’t have to involve themselves if remaining objective proved more difficult than they’d planned. Guess what? Their continual denial of the choice they’d made required copious amounts of gaslighting to keep me “falling in line.” Apparently, neutrality is easier to claim than to practice, especially when you’ve already planted your flag on someone else’s hill.

If you’ve read at least five of these letters, you already know. I don’t do conformity when it comes at the expense of my peace, whether physical or emotional. I’ll be damned if someone I’ve chosen to share my good nature with starts acting above the program, especially when the program runs on my emotional labour.

Let’s just say Q3 was scissors gang season. From friends who think I “demand too much” just to sustain the friendship, to the objects of affection who fixate on my tone the moment the conversation exposes how little effort they actually contribute compared to what they receive. Or the one who picked a fight because accountability got too real once they realised I wasn’t paying lip service to my ambitions. I spent the past month waiting for grief to knock me flat, because each relationship held its own weight, its own meaning. I gave each one the care it deserved, but some evolved beyond what we had, while others never valued it the same way I did.

I mean, at this age, I assumed we were mature enough to gently let our loved ones know their place in our life if things change. My contemporaries are approaching the years of loss-induced grief, deeper commitments, make-or-break life projects and everything in between. When these monumental events happen, they change who we think we are, and I don’t think we acknowledge these life changes in the same way we do when we undergo physical growth. Some of us have these experiences earlier than others, and the realisation hits distinctly, forcing us to wisdom beyond our years—a trait modern society holds in high regard when wielded by the wealthy or powerful men in society. God forbid a young woman reframes her trauma as knowledge that helps her show up as a better member of society. Who wisdom epp?

Anyway, I’m glad to announce to the people who will bristle at my narrative of their conduct at the end of that paragraph.

I don’t feel bad for leaving you in your weirdness.

You did it first and hoped you’d have more time to exploit me while deciding on the best time to discard me.

Let’s get into the fun stuff, shall we? I’m in my “doing scary life projects” era, the kind where you question every decision you’ve ever made, then trace them back to your parents and go, ah, so that’s where I got it from. Upbringing and exposure really are the root code of our beliefs, and growing up is just debugging them. My folks did a stellar job, though (subtle brag, but they earned it). They gave me the kind of grounding that makes it shocking to realise how many people don’t grasp social contracts, pattern recognition, intelligent humour, or plain old grit. Watching that in real time has been... humbling, to say the least, for my ever-curious, occasionally judgmental mind. So, in the spirit of reversing the slow burn of anti-intellectualism, I’m sharing some of my personal philosophies in this letter — hoping they land before the rot sets in completely.

The more mundane and diverse experiences you have, the more likely it is that you will live a fuller life

My definition of a fulfilling life has changed so much since I started seeing how my peers in different countries live/define fulfilment. I’m still pro-choice and somewhat anti-traditional family life but the major thing that changed is my perspective on economic success in relation to personal fulfilment. There are many ways to define success that don’t require to collection of material things and influence in obsessive ways. This realisation didn’t come to me on a yacht or the business class lounge of a world-class airport. It came in trickles while experiencing the joys of genuine friendship, the vulnerability of a new student of life, grieving the loss of a life I had fixated on until I realised it wasn’t for me. It hit harder with every conversation that peeled the onion representing familial relationships or answered prayers of my ancestors. I guess what I’m trying to say is pay attention. The lesson you want to learn is in the experience you keep denigrating.

Things I enjoyed…

• Getting shit off my chest

• Learning new skills (I’m trying to get PMP certified by Q1 2026)

• Rediscovering my why. This one is a bit hard to explain

• Love is Blind S9 finale! (react in the comments)

Stay jiggy,