Iron Heaven and Influencer Paradise: A Memoir of Safe Spaces
By: Ifeanacho Maryann
Tags: Life Hacking, Mental Health, Safe Space, Self Empowerment, Life Lessons

It is safe to say, 2017 was a shitty year. Though I had one of my best academic results that year, 2k17 will always be the poster child for losses. I recorded a lot of losses that year, the greatest of which was losing my Dad. At a point that academic year, the only thing the fuel I was running on as I zombied through life was the mantra, “It is what Daddy would want.”

Even when food lost its appeal, and the golden-brown decadence of Dodo turned to cardboard in my mouth, I still at because (insert mantra)

Even when school seemed a little more pointless with each unexciting and theory-centric lectures, I still went to classes because (insert mantra)

Even when written words in my textbooks swirled, leaped, and hid behind the ISBNs and I kept forgetting the previous paragraphs as I read Ndukwe’s beautifully written notes, I still made an effort to read because (insert mantra)

Finally, the year staggered to an end, and I graduated- or rather, discovered I had to stay an extra year in school.

2k18- or at least the first half of it- was a fitting sequel for 2k17. The year stretched out before me grimly. January was iconic and would remain evergreen in my mind. If I was ever in doubt that there was a problem, reading 16 sizeable books before the twenty-fourth day of January dispelled it. I was bored, angry, and confused. Nsukka, the dusty and picturesque town I fell in love with five years ago, became the setting for all my nightmares. The air that had once reminded me of winterlike harmattans, shrugging hills and rubbery ayaraya ji now tasted of failure and rancor. The spots where my classmates usually hung out stared at me with empty, taunting eyes, and ever so often, I would see someone’s profile and think it was Tuzy or Dion or Loisa, only for the illusion to lift when they turned.

JImbaz, my faculty building, left me sore, visually and emotionally. This 30-feet architectural eyesore represented everything I hated at the moment.

2k18 was an empty year for me.

My days melded into each other.

I had only two purposes: wake and sleep.

Everything in between was garbled, uneventful, and monotonous.

I discovered YouTube as a final year student in 2017. While it had been an academic tool in 2017, in 2018, it became a safe place. I had two opiums on YouTube:

· Hair and food tutorials

· Ted talks

I watched so many Ted talks I think TED should let me give a talk on how to present the perfect ted talk (someone has already done it but roll with me). I thirsted for hope, and back then, watching a Tedtalk and listening to the speaker talk about their journey from zero to hero gave me all the hope I needed. And on those days when the aspire-to-expire motivational talks began to ring a little too false, watching a YouTuber make lemon meringue or latkes or do a high pompadour on natural hair made my bleached life a bit better.

18th June 2018 was another iconic day for me. It was the day I found a second safe space: the gym. I had toyed with the idea of signing up for a long time, but that day, I told myself it was now or never. It’s safe to say it was one of the best decisions I made. I had no workout plan. I only had two missions: Self-exhaustion and killing my demons.

With each squat I did, I felt one wall breakaway.

The heavier the weight was, the lighter my soul and mind felt.

With each completed set, I felt whole, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Nothing mattered but the pushups and deadlifts I had to do.

And when I finished, I was always too wired to be bored, too happy to breathe, and too tired to think of my predicament.

One advice people give you when you are down, depressed, or adrift on the sea called life is to find your safe place, that place where all your problems seem small and conquerable.

That safe place could be in the eyes, embrace, and words of someone.

In the lyrics and melodies of a song,

Within the pages of a book

Or it could be an actual place.

These things go on to become therapy for you and fill up those bleeding wounds festering on your mind and soul. They become that lighthouse amidst life’s stormy seas. Asides from books, music, and drowning myself in nature, odd as it sounds, I find comfort in the gym and YouTube. Sure, it doesn’t replace actual therapy, but safe places can become the silver linings in life’s bleak sky, giving you that extra energy to elbow through life.

So what is your safe place?

Where is that place you go to re-irrigate your soul?

Liked what you read? Check out No Time Like the Present and Of Cherophobia and Long Distance Relationships with Happiness