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The Ying to My Yang: The quiet war within

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

It starts like every classic love story.
Two halves.
One longing.
A desire for wholeness.
You, somewhere in life, are just waiting for them, the missing piece to your puzzle, the rice to your stew, the calm to your storm.

Ah yes… the ying to your yang.

We throw that phrase around like it’s seasoning on Sunday jollof.
“I’m looking for the yin to my yang,” we say, imagining someone who will balance out our madness, whisper kind things when we spiral, and maybe help with laundry.

But before we go searching for this magical balance in another person, let’s take a quick detour through ancient wisdom and a bit of common sense.

So, what is Yin and Yang, really?

The concept of Yin and Yang (yes, technically “yin,” not “ying,” but let’s not be grammar police today) comes from Chinese philosophy. It’s all about duality, opposite forces that complement each other.

Think:

  • Night (Yin) and Day (Yang)
  • Quiet (Yin) and Energy (Yang)
  • Introvert vibes (Yin) and your loud, dramatic auntie at a funeral (Yang)
  • Chill coke (Yin) and spicy kelewele (Yang)

You get the idea.

These forces need each other to make life balanced.
So when people say, “I need the ying to my yang,” what they often mean is,
“I want someone who won’t stress me but will also help me finish this whole life thing without me falling apart.”

But here’s the twist.
What if that person is… you?

Plot Twist: This Ain’t a Love Story

I wanted to write a romantic blog.
I really did.
You’d think I’d finally found someone who gets me, understands my need to overthink texts, and won’t judge my bad dancing.

But this isn’t about them.
This is about the messy, chaotic, inconsistent, deeply loveable human that is you,
and the quiet war happening inside.

One random day, my friend Cynthia Trinity sent me a song.
No dramatic introduction. No warning. Just a link from her Spotify playlist.
The song? “Shine Through” by GoldFord.
And listen, I thought it would be just another nice tune. Until the lyrics slapped me softly across the face.

“I see my behavior and where I go wrong
I guess it’s my nature, my head is too strong”

Ah. So it’s not just me.
Raise your hand if you’ve ever known exactly what you’re doing wrong… and still did it anyway.
We don’t need enemies. We do a solid job of self-sabotaging.

This line? It’s the inner voice catching you mid-bad decision and saying,
“Again? We’re still doing this?”

And the next line is even more cheeky:

“I guess it’s my nature, my head is too strong.”

Translation: “I overthink for a living, and my pride? It could run for president.”

It’s wild how we can recognize our patterns: fear, perfectionism, procrastination, and still invite them to dinner like old friends.

But then comes the chorus, and whew, GoldFord was not playing:

“If I can only get out of my own way
That’s when the light shines on through…”

Read that again. Slowly.

This isn’t about your ex.
Not your childhood trauma.
Not even your supervisor, who never replies to emails.

It’s you.
You are the traffic jam blocking your potential.

The Weight We Call Ourselves

“I’ve got nothin’ to lose but the weight
That made me a mountain to move…”

Weight.
But not the kind that shows up after too much food.
This is the weight of:

  • Fear of failure
  • “What will people say?”
  • Imposter syndrome
  • Perfectionism
  • Past mistakes you refuse to forgive yourself for

That weight grows, silently.
And before you know it, you become the mountain you’re trying to climb.
We cry out, “God, remove the obstacle!” and God’s probably like,
“Sweetheart, you are the obstacle.”

Harsh? Maybe.
True? Absolutely.

The Real Love Story

So no, this isn’t about a lover who is good-looking and has a deep voice.
This isn’t even about Cynthia (although, shout out to her playlist game).
This is about that quiet version of you,
the one who’s been trying to come out from under all the chaos, self-doubt, and dodged responsibilities.

Maybe the real ying to your yang
is the part of you that’s been trying to shine through all along.
The hopeful you.
The brave you.
The you that shows up, even when it’s hard.
The you that doesn’t ghost your own goals.

You don’t need saving.
You need clearing.
Clearing the way so the real you can walk in like a musician on tour, unapologetic and fully lit.

Final Thought (and a Tiny Roast)

You’ve been standing in your way for so long,
you’ve probably installed furniture there.

But what would happen if, for once, you stepped aside?

You might become the person you’ve been praying for.

So, here’s the reflection question I’ll leave you with:
👉🏽 What’s one way you’ve been standing in your own way, and what could happen if you finally moved?

Not for the applause.
Not for the gram.
But for the freedom.

Because the most powerful love stories don’t begin with someone walking in.
They begin the day you stop walking out on yourself.

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Eye Candy vs. Reality: When the Shine Outside Hides an Empty Middle

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

We live in a world that sells us images before it sells us truth.

From the moment you step out of your house in Ghana, whether it’s the perfectly painted “abɛ nkwan” joint that has no pepper, the roadside shoes that look Italian until the first rain, or the smiling person with smooth talk but no integrity, you are constantly being served eye candy. Shiny on the outside. Empty, sour, or disappointing on the inside.

But this isn’t just about deceit. It’s about how often we fall for appearances—how we choose packaging over content, charisma over character, and noise over value. And sometimes, it’s not just others doing it to us. We, too, have learned to curate and camouflage. So let’s talk about it.

1. Not Everything That Glitters is Gold. Sometimes, It’s Plastic Coated in Dust

In Accra, you can spot a car with tinted windows, loud music, and shiny rims. It cruises by, and you think, “Wow, this guy is loaded.” But follow that same car to the filling station and you’ll see him asking for GHS 20 fuel with confidence.

The illusion is strong because it works. We are drawn to beauty. To flash. To perfection. Even when we know it’s not real.

But that’s the trap. We end up applying for jobs that only offer big titles and low salaries. We trust people because they speak big English but don’t do anything. We go for friendships that feel good on Instagram but have no backbone in real life.

And the worst part? We ignore the warning signs because the surface is just so sweet.

2. Substance is Rarely Loud — It Grows Quietly

Real things don’t always shout.

The most nourishing food in the Ghanaian kitchen isn’t always the prettiest. Kontomire stew doesn’t win beauty contests, but the nutrients are richer than any jollof with boiled egg on top.

Likewise, the people who will stand by you when life hits you hard may not have the best fashion sense or 5,000 followers. They may not have perfect English or show off on WhatsApp statuses.

But they have depth. And that depth shows in silence, how they remember your struggles, how they check on you without being prompted, how they help without public announcements. In a world where everyone is trying to impress, these people are a rare gift.

3. Eye Candy is Addictive, But It’s Often Short-Lived

We are a generation trained to value appearance.

Even our social media bios say things like “God first 💯 | Digital Marketer | Lifestyle Queen | Brand Ambassador,”  but half the time, we’re still figuring ourselves out.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with branding or beauty. But it becomes dangerous when we let the image define the substance.

You buy a fancy notebook because the cover says “Dream Big”, but you haven’t written a single goal inside.

You admire a public figure because they speak well, but you ignore the fact that their actions contradict everything they post.

It’s like using an air freshener to mask a gutter. It may smell okay for now, but sooner or later, the stench will show up. Eye candy may satisfy your eyes, but it rarely nourishes your soul.

4. From Bofrot to Big Men: Check the Middle Before You Commit

Here in Ghana, we know how to make things look good. Our wedding decor, funerals, and even political campaigns can compete globally. But behind the shine, what’s happening?

That company promising 7-figure earnings? Read the fine print, are they using your effort for their benefit?

That “connection” guy asking for an upfront payment to get you abroad? Ask yourself: Where is the proof?

That ministry leader who quotes Bible verses but gossips behind your back? We need to discern spirituality from showmanship.

Whether it’s food, people, opportunities, or dreams, check the middle. Is there real meat inside or just puffed-up dough?

5. You Too  Don’t Just Be Eye Candy. Be a Full Meal

This is not just about spotting fakes. It’s also about doing some deep self-check.

Are you presenting a life that looks sweet online but is bitter in private?

Are you in relationships where your smile hides the truth that you’re emotionally disconnected?

Are you offering people presence without purpose, showing up, but never stepping up?

Eye candy fades. But real value lasts.

Let your friendships be nourishing, not performative. Let your words match your actions. Be the kind of person whose life encourages, not deceives.

Final Thoughts: The Cure for Eye Candy Culture

We don’t have to throw away beauty, packaging, or style. But we must learn to pair it with honesty, depth, and purpose.

So, before you admire someone’s life, ask what’s sustaining it.

Before you envy someone’s job, ask if you’re ready for their struggle.

Before you accept a gift, ask what strings are attached.

And when life serves you a juicy, golden-looking meat pie, take a moment, open it, and make sure it has more than just onions inside.

Because the truth is, not everything sweet is food, and not everything beautiful is good.

Choose wisely.

Reflection Corner (Let’s Talk):

Have you ever chased something that looked great but left you feeling empty?

What have you learned about choosing value over appearance in your daily life?

Drop your thoughts in the comments. Someone might need to hear your experience today.

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Gone For The Vanishing ( The Art Of Making A Dramatic Exit)

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

You know that feeling when the event has overstayed its welcome, the conversation has gone from vibes to village meeting, and your only prayer is to evaporate like gari in hot water? Welcome to “Gone for the Vanishing,” the fine Ghanaian art of disappearing when the situation demands it.

We’ve all been there—at a wedding that turned into a three→day convention, a church service where the preacher suddenly remembers a second sermon or worse. At this family gathering, you’re stuck with that one auntie determined to update you on all your missing blessings (marriage, money, or both). In these moments, an exit strategy is essential. Fear not, I have compiled a foolproof guide to ghosting with style.

1. The Classic “Irish Goodbye” (Aka “Where is Kwame?”)

The OG disappearing act. No goodbyes, no waves, just straight→up exit. This one is perfect for Ghanaian funerals, where goodbyes can take another three hours. Simply blend into the crowd, pretend you’re going to buy something, and then vanish like your crush when it’s time to define the relationship.

Pro Tip: If anyone asks, just say, “I was there, didn’t you see me?” This line works 99.9% of the time.

2. The “Fake Bathroom Break” (Aka “Make I Pee Small”)

Auntie Ama has cornered you at a wedding reception, discussing the importance of settling down while aggressively feeding you Jollof. The DJ has played “No Dulling” for the third time, and you can feel yourself wilting. Enter the bathroom excuse.

How it works: You stand up, announce “I dey go ease myself,” and confidently head in the direction of the restroom. The trick is to detour straight to the exit and keep walking till you find a trotro or Bolt home.

3. The “Phone Call of Doom” (Aka “Chale, emergency!”)

For this, you need your Oscar→winning acting skills. Hold your phone to your ear, nod seriously, and whisper something urgent like, “Eiii! Right now? Oh chale, I dey come!”

Extra points if you add dramatic pauses, shake your head like an uncle discussing fuel prices, and walk briskly as if heading to a board meeting.

Warning: Do not overuse, lest your friends start calling your bluff. Nobody has that many emergencies unless you are a part→time superhero.

4. The “Smoke Bomb” (Aka “Quick Distraction”)

Sometimes, you need a diversion. Accidentally knock over a drink, start an unnecessary argument about why Ghana Jollof is superior to Nigeria Jollof (we all know the answer), or suddenly start coughing dramatically. As everyone’s attention shifts, you slide away like butter on a hot pan.

Execution: Timing is everything. Ensure the peak of the chaos coincides with your exit. Bonus points if you get someone else blamed for the distraction.

5. The “Elaborate Excuse” (Aka “The More Ridiculous, the Better”)

A simple “I have work tomorrow” won’t always cut it, especially at Ghanaian parties where events run on Ghana Man Time (GMT). You need something absurd yet unquestionable.

Example: “My pastor said I shouldn’t be out past midnight this month because my destiny helper is coming.” Or “I have to rush home, my cat’s spiritual advisor predicted doom if I stay past 9 pm.”

Challenge: Keep a straight face. The more conviction, the fewer follow→up questions.

6. The “Wingman Ejection” (Aka “Chale, cover me!”)

If you came with a trusted friend, this is the time to deploy them. Give them the signal (usually a well→timed side→eye), and let them start a conversation long enough for you to execute the great escape.

Remember: You owe them one. Next time, be ready to return the favor when it’s their turn to escape from an overenthusiastic uncle explaining why government policies are ruining his fish business.

7. The “Social Butterfly” (Aka “Be Everywhere and Nowhere”)

Before vanishing, make sure you’ve greeted at least five people in different locations. That way, when they realize you’re gone, someone will say, “Oh, I just saw them by the drinks.” Another will swear you were dancing five minutes ago.

Key Move: Leave your drink half→full and place it somewhere visible. This keeps the illusion that you’re still around. By the time they figure out you’ve ghosted, you’ll be home watching Netflix in your pajamas.

8. The “Ultimate Ghanaian Exit” (Aka “Just Say You’re Coming Back”)

This is the most widely used technique in Ghana. Simply say, “I dey come,” and walk out the door. No one will question it because, let’s be honest, “I dey come” in Ghana means “You will not see me again today.”

Bonus: If you ever get caught, just say, “Oh, I come back but I no see you.” This line has successfully ended many interrogations.

Final Thoughts: Leave with Style

Mastering “Gone for the Vanishing” is about knowing your audience and choosing your moment wisely. Whether you prefer the boldness of an Irish Goodbye, the drama of a fake emergency, or the classic Ghanaian “I dey come,” the key is to execute your exit with confidence and humor.

And if anyone ever calls you out, just smile and say, “Oh chale, I be like breeze—you fit see me now, then pɔɔ, I vanish!”

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When Love Finds Me Again (And This Time, It Better Behave)

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

When love finds me again, I hope it comes prepared. Not just with sweet words and butterflies, but with wisdom, patience, and enough money for urgent momo requests. Love is sweet, but have you ever been in love with someone who understands the importance of a good mobile data bundle?

It won’t make a grand entrance with trumpets and angels descending from heaven. No, love will arrive subtly—like that one old song on the radio that suddenly makes sense, or the familiar scent of rain before it starts to pour. Maybe it will show up in the way someone saves me the last piece of meat instead of eating it with boldness and no guilt. Maybe it will be in the way they listen—listen—even when I am just ranting about how ECG has decided to turn off my romantic lighting for the third time this week.

Love will come like sunlight through half-drawn curtains, warming spaces I had long left cold. Not a grand entrance, not a storm, but a steady rain, soft, unrelenting, soaking into the soil of me.

It will not rush me. Love will understand that I have built walls not to keep it out, but to see if it will climb over them, knock, and wait patiently for me to open the door. It will not guilt-trip me into rushing my emotions like a trotro driver honking at a red light. It will stay steady, like the Waakye seller who refuses to hurry even when the line is long because good things take time.

Love will come with humor. It will laugh at my jokes, even the ones that are not funny. It will send me random voice notes saying, “I saw a guy today who was your type—tall, bearded, but unfortunately, his shirt was tucked suspiciously, so I let him go.” It will not be afraid to tease me about how I can never finish a plate of food but will still take extra meat just in case.

It will come with kindness. Not the showy kind that only posts sweet messages on birthdays, but the everyday kind that asks, “Have you eaten?” and listens to the answer. The type will sit in silence with me on bad days and dance with me in the kitchen on good ones.

Love will find me when I am not looking, in the middle of unfinished stories and dreams I’ve yet to chase. It will not demand, it will not rush, it will unfold like a letter long lost and finally read.

And love will be stubborn. It will refuse to leave, even when I try to push it away with my, “I don’t need anyone” speeches. It will see through my toughness, recognize the softness underneath, and remind me that I am not too much to love. It will stay, not just for the grand moments, but for the boring ones too—the lazy Sunday afternoons, the random market runs, the arguments over whether Ghanaian jollof is superior (because it is).

Love will find me when I least expect it—maybe when I’m complaining about the price of pure water or standing in front of my fridge pretending to think about what to eat. It won’t feel forced, it won’t be a guessing game. It will be there, solid, undeniable, like how Ghana’s heat refuses to take a break.

And this time, I will not run.

I will not second-guess it.

I will not check my heart like it’s a bank account with suspicious transactions.

I will let it stay.

And if it ever leaves again, well, I still have fufu and palm nut soup to keep me warm, but I hope love stays this time.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

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Love Me Like a Postage Stamp: The Tragedy of Being a Walking Love Letter

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

Image Credit: An ex-boyfriend and I. Captured by love, archived by pain. The lies we tell.

Love letters have a certain charm, don’t they? They’re delicate yet powerful, filled with words that make the heart do an embarrassing little jig. They sit between pages, hidden in old books or tucked away in memory boxes, carrying emotions too big to say out loud.

But while some people write love letters, others are love letters. Walking, talking, breathing love letters. The kind of people who pour love into every moment, who leave the world a little warmer just by being in it. They remember how you like your tea, send random “just checking on you” messages, and think about you when they hear your favorite song. They don’t just say love; they are love.

And yet, ironically, walking love letters often find themselves unread, lost in transit, or—worst of all—stamped Return to Sender.

The Curse of Being a Walking Love Letter

Here’s the thing: love letters are romantic in theory but tragic in reality. Because while we’re out here being poetry in motion, the people we love are out there… well, being human. Which means they forget to appreciate what’s right in front of them. Or they read us, admire the words, but never write back.

It’s a cruel joke. We were made to be someone’s favorite chapter, yet we often end up in the “books I’ll read later” pile. And later, as we all know, sometimes never comes.

Worse still, being a walking love letter means you get mistaken for a public library. People come to you when they need comfort, want to feel understood when they’re in between books (relationships), and just need something to fill the space. They flip through your pages, underline their favorite parts, and then leave you on the shelf—unborrowed, untouched.

And we? We let them. Because we love too much, too fast, too deeply. Because we are the type to highlight them in bold while they keep us in footnotes.

The real tragedy, however, is that while we’re out here offering heartfelt love and care, the people we love are out there giving their hearts to people who don’t even use punctuation properly in their text messages.

Imagine writing, “I miss you, hope you’re okay” and getting back a dry “k.” Ah yes, love in the 21st century.

That’s like preparing jollof with all your heart, only for someone to say, “Nice rice.” Nice rice??? My ancestors did not fight in the Jollof wars for this level of disrespect.

What Could Have Been: The Bitter Aftertaste of Almost-Love

Then there’s what could have been—that haunting phrase that sneaks into your thoughts at 2 AM. It’s the love that never fully bloomed, the confession that got stuck in your throat, the moment you should have reached for their hand but didn’t.

Maybe it was bad timing. Maybe it was fear. Maybe the universe has a dark sense of humor. Whatever the reason, these almost-loves leave behind a strange ache. It’s not quite heartbreak, not quite regret—just a quiet, lingering sadness.

And let’s be honest: sometimes, what could have been is more romantic than what was. Real relationships involve laundry, morning breath, and arguing over what to eat. But the love that never happened? That one gets to stay perfect. Untouched. Forever idealized.

It’s the relationship where you never got annoyed with their bad habits, never had to deal with their stubbornness, never had to argue over whose turn it was to wash the dishes. In your mind, it stays as that one magical moment, the one where they smiled at you in a way that made you believe in soulmates—before reality took them away.

And yet, we hold on to these stories. We replay them like old songs, the ones we know by heart but refuse to delete from our playlists. Because even if they didn’t love us the way we loved them, for a moment, they existed in our world, and that was enough.

And if that isn’t the emotional equivalent of holding onto an empty Fan Ice container because it once had your favorite vanilla flavor, I don’t know what is.

Hope, Stamps, and the Right Address

But here’s what I’ve learned: just because someone didn’t read your love letter doesn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. Maybe it wasn’t meant for them. Maybe it got lost in the wrong mailbox. Maybe the right person just hasn’t opened it yet.

Love, when it is real, never truly disappears. It lingers in the spaces between what we lost and what we’re about to find. It stays in the warmth of our words, in the kindness we give, in the hope that maybe, just maybe, one day, someone will read us fully and think, This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

So, if you’re a walking love letter—if you love deeply, if you care too much if you give your heart with no tracking number—don’t stop. Love like a postage stamp: stick to your truth, even if it takes a while to get to where you belong.

Because one day, someone will not only read you but write back. And when they do, it won’t be in pencil. It’ll be in ink. Permanent. Sealed with their love, addressed only to you.

And if they don’t? Well, at least you’ll have enough material to write a bestselling heartbreak album. Or a Nollywood script where the person realizes they loved you all along, but by then, you’ve moved to Canada and married a rich engineer.

As my Kenyan sister, Cynthia would say, Haibo! Love is not for the weak!

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Champagne Dreams in an Endless Drought: The Tale of My 22-Month Revelation

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

On May 22, 2022, I updated my WhatsApp status with a phrase that felt like a poetic mic drop: “Champagne dreams in an endless drought.” Borrowed from the song No New Friends by LSD (the trio Sia, Diplo, and Labrinth), it seemed profound at the time. I mean, who wouldn’t be intrigued by such a dramatic, catchy line? But over time, this status evolved from just “cool and deep” to a reality check about my life.

It wasn’t just about external struggles or bad luck. Nope, the harsh truth? The drought was caused by me—my choices, my excuses, and my very loyal companion, laziness.

The Drama of the Drought

Let’s break this down:
• Champagne dreams are all about imagining a luxurious, successful, carefree life. Picture the clinking glasses of Dom Pérignon while lounging in an infinity pool overlooking the Eiffel Tower.
• An endless drought, on the other hand, is a wasteland—a dry, cracked landscape where nothing grows. Think of the Sahara Desert without the excitement of camels.

At first, I thought the drought was unfair to life. But one day, I realized: the drought wasn’t caused by fate, bad luck, or the universe being “out to get me.” It was me—not planting, not watering, and not showing up to do the work needed to make those champagne dreams real.

The Truth About the Drought

I held onto this poetic status for nearly two years, thinking it made me look wise and reflective. But in reality, I was stuck. I dreamed of success, but I spent more time binge-watching Netflix and scrolling through TikTok than working toward anything meaningful.

We often blame life for our lack of progress, but how many times is it really about us? “I’m waiting for the right moment,” I’d tell myself. Or worse: “I’m just too busy.” Busy doing what? Rearranging my Spotify playlists? The drought was a direct result of my procrastination and unwillingness to put in the work.

Why We Stay Stuck

Here’s the thing about humans: we love excuses.
• “I’ll start tomorrow.” (Translation: never.)
• “I’m waiting for inspiration.” (As if inspiration is Amazon Prime, arriving in two days.)
• “I just don’t have time.” (Funny, considering I could finish a whole series on Netflix in one weekend.)

The truth is, that we often want success without effort. Champagne dreams are great, but you can’t pour champagne into a glass if you’re not even willing to dig the well.

Fixing the Drought

Here’s the good news: if laziness caused the drought, action can fix it.

For me, it started with small, unglamorous steps. I had to stop fantasizing about the “big win” and focus on small, daily actions. And let me tell you, asking yourself hard questions is not fun:
• Why am I waiting for things to magically improve?
• How much time am I wasting on things that don’t matter?
• Do I want success, or do I just like the idea of it?

The answers? Embarrassing. But they pushed me to start. Progress didn’t happen overnight, but each small step added up. Slowly, I began watering the dusty field of my goals.

Champagne Is Earned

Champagne is a drink for celebration. But here’s the irony: to celebrate, you first need something worth celebrating. No one hands you a flute of bubbly and says, “Congrats on… existing.”

The work may not feel glamorous, but when you finally make progress, it feels earned. And let me tell you, earned champagne tastes sweeter than any fantasy.

The Lesson

It’s been nearly two years since I declared my champagne dreams in an endless drought, and here’s what I’ve learned:
The drought wasn’t life being unfair—it was me. My laziness. My procrastination. My excuses.

But here’s the beauty of it: if I caused the drought, I can also end it. And if you’re feeling stuck, know this:
1. Your dreams are valid, but they won’t achieve themselves.
2. Start small.
3. Stay consistent.

If you want champagne, you’ve got to do the work. And when you do, every drop will taste so much sweeter.

So here’s to rolling up our sleeves, watering our dreams, and making it happen. Cheers to the end of the drought!🥂

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Y’all Need Therapy: But Let’s Not Pretend Like We Don’t Know

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

If I’m being honest, some of you need therapy more than Ghana needs electricity. Yes, I said it. Don’t fight me, fight ECG. But seriously, have you ever sat on a trotro, overheard someone’s phone conversation, and thought, “This person should be lying on a therapist’s couch somewhere”? If you haven’t, you’re probably the one we’re all worried about.

Why Therapy Isn’t “By Force,” But Maybe It Should Be

In Ghana, when someone says, “Massa, you need help,” it’s often not a compliment. We’re quick to prescribe baking soda and lime for smelly armpits, but when it comes to matters of the mind, we’d rather rub Aboniki balm on our foreheads and sleep it off. Therapy? That’s for “obroni” people who have time to cry about their feelings, right?

Wrong!

Let’s be real, how many times have we swallowed our stress and told ourselves, “Ɛbɛyɛ yie” (It will be well)? Yes, hope is good, but hope can’t fix generational trauma. Some of us are walking around carrying the weight of our ancestors’ unpaid bride prices, family curses, and every heartbreak since SHS. Please, talk to someone.

The Funny Things We Normalize

You’ll see Kofi posting motivational quotes like, “Pain is temporary, but pride is forever.” Meanwhile, Kofi hasn’t processed his breakup from 2014. Abena says, “I don’t need anyone,” yet she’s typing “Hi” and deleting it every time her ex comes online.

Let’s not forget the uncles who shout, “Boys don’t cry,” yet their blood pressure is higher than Accra rent.

And don’t get me started on church. Ghanaians can shout, “Fire burn bad dreams!” but when you suggest therapy, they’ll rebuke you in tongues. Listen, I’m not saying prayer doesn’t work, I’ve seen God move mountains but sometimes, God is telling you to call a therapist. Don’t ignore the divine direction.

African Parents and Therapy

Try telling your Ghanaian mother you need therapy. She’ll look at you like you said Kenkey is from Nigeria. “Therapy for what? Are you not eating? Don’t you have a roof over your head?” They’ll even remind you how they walked barefoot to school and survived wars you weren’t born to see. Classic guilt trip.

But here’s the thing: African parents need therapy too. Some of their rules? Pure trauma in disguise. Like the one that says you can’t sit in the living room when visitors come. Why? Is the sofa allergic to me?

Making It Normal, One Step at a Time

The good news is, therapy is slowly catching on. Some Ghanaians are actually booking sessions not because they’re “mad,” but because they want to heal, grow, and stop crying every time an Adele or Sam Smith song reminds them of their ex.

If you’re not ready for therapy, start small. Call that one friend who knows how to listen (not the one who’ll spread your gist at the next wedding). Journal your thoughts, even if it’s just to rant about how your sakawa neighbor’s music is louder than your peace of mind.

When You Finally Go to Therapy

Imagine this: you’ve braved the odds, saved your coins, and booked a therapy session. You sit down and the therapist says, “So, why are you here?” Suddenly, your Ghanaian instincts kick in:

“Hmm, I don’t even know where to start.”

“It’s not like I’m mad, oh.”

“It’s just that, sometimes, life is…you know…hard.”

But that’s okay! Starting is the hardest part. Soon, you’ll be spilling all your secrets like the time you told your boss you were stuck in traffic, but really, you were at home eating Banku.

Y’all Need Therapy And It’s Okay

At the end of the day, therapy isn’t about fixing broken people, it’s about helping you navigate this thing called life. And trust me, life in Ghana needs all the navigation tools we can get.

Therapy isn’t just for heartbreak or stress; it’s for figuring out why you want to strangle someone every time they call you “Bossu” but refuse to pay back your money. Or why you still feel guilty about eating that meat pie your younger sibling was saving in 2003.

So go ahead, and schedule that session. Because the truth is, while you’re out there telling people to “stay strong,” your mental health deserves more than Gob3.

And if anyone tells you therapy is for “mad people,” tell them, “Yes, and we’re all mad in this country anyway. So what’s your point?”

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One Day When We Lay Our Mortals By

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at us, and sometimes, those curveballs force us to confront our existence in unexpected ways. Early this year, I had a near-death experience that left me both shaken and introspective, with a healthy sprinkle of humor to lighten the heaviness of the topic.

It was just another ordinary day when I found myself alone at home, a rarity in my usually bustling life. With no one around to distract me, I decided to indulge in a pack of noodles, craving the comfort of carbs. In my infinite wisdom, I ordered the noodles with extra pepper, thinking I was being adventurous. Little did I know, I was signing up for a culinary disaster.

As the night wore on, I settled down, satisfied and full, only to be jolted awake by a sudden panic. I felt like I was choking, and my throat was burning from the pepper that I so enthusiastically requested. It was as if my body was staging a protest against my poor culinary choices. Despite my nose being wide open, I couldn’t catch a breath. I was gasping for air like a fish out of water, and let me tell you, this was not the moment to regret my late-night noodle decision.

In a moment of sheer panic, I ran to the bathroom, feeling both nauseous and, let’s be honest, slightly dramatic. There I was, throwing up and struggling with stomach cramps, all while pondering the cruel irony of my situation: here I was, missing out on the chance to go out and enjoy good food and maybe even meet some fine boys. Instead, I was sitting on the cold bathroom floor, contemplating life and my unfortunate food choices.

I desperately needed my phone to call for help, but it felt like it was miles away. With every ounce of strength, I crawled back to the bedroom, hoping to reach my phone before the darkness swallowed me whole. I stretched out my hand, grasping for my lifeline, but then everything went dark. Talk about a dramatic plot twist!

When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised to find myself alive and well. I felt like I had time-traveled through a horror movie and emerged on the other side. As I went about my day, doing the usual chores, the reality of what had happened slowly crept back to me. I thought, “What if I had died last night?” I could just picture it: “Local food enthusiast dies tragically from over-pepperized noodles. Last meal included an excessive amount of regret.” Not exactly how I wanted to be remembered!

That experience left me with some profound questions about life and the fleeting nature of our time on this earth. One day, when we lay our mortals by, what will we leave behind? Will it be a legacy of adventurous food choices, or perhaps the memory of all the fine boys we never met because we were too busy choking on our late-night snacks?

This near-death experience was more than just a scary night; it was a wake-up call. It made me realize how fragile life is and how quickly things can change. It encouraged me to appreciate every moment, savor the good food, and not let fear hold me back from meeting new people.

So, here’s my advice: live fully, laugh often, and don’t take yourself too seriously. Embrace the messy moments, whether it’s overindulging in spicy noodles or missing out on a night out. Cherish the relationships you have, reach out to loved ones, and be open to the adventures that life throws your way.

And who knows? One day, when we lay our mortals by, I hope to be remembered not just for my near-death experience but for the joy I spread, the connections I made, and perhaps, a few hilarious stories about how I almost choked on noodles instead of having a romantic dinner.

Life is a beautiful gift, filled with laughter, love, and, yes, the occasional bad food choice. So let’s embrace it all and make every day count!

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Being a Fool for Love? Nah, I’m Not Signing Up for That

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

You know the old saying, “love makes you do foolish things”? Well, I’m here to tell you NO THANKS!  I don’t believe in being a fool for love. I’m a proud non-believer in the whole concept. And before you think I’m just being cynical, hear me out.

Love Isn’t About Losing Your Mind

Look, love is beautiful. But should it turn us into fools? Absolutely not. I believe love should uplift and inspire us, not make us question our sanity. God didn’t design love to have us running in circles, desperately trying to hold onto someone who treats us like a backup plan. No one has greater love for us than God and Jesus Christ, and here’s the kicker: they never asked us to be fools in the name of love.

Where’s the Wisdom in Being a Fool?

If we’re honest, being a fool for love often leads to heartbreak, exhaustion, and endless cycles of pain. Love shouldn’t feel like a constant struggle where you’re the only one putting in the effort. If you find yourself always waiting for someone to change, or holding onto someone who clearly doesn’t value you, it’s time to ask yourself, “Is this the love I deserve?”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying love is easy or that relationships don’t have their rough patches. But love is a partnership, not a one-person rescue mission. God gave us common sense for a reason, so let’s use it! If anything, they want us to love wisely. After all, Proverbs 4:7 says, “Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore, get wisdom.” So, where’s the wisdom in being a fool for love? Spoiler alert: There isn’t any.

Real Love Is Balanced

When you look at God’s love, it’s perfectly balanced. Jesus gave His life for us, not so we could live in emotional chaos, but so we could experience love that’s pure, wise, and uplifting. Nowhere does it say He wants us to sacrifice our self-respect in the process. He calls us to love others as we love ourselves which means self-love has to come first.

“I Stayed Because I Love Him”—Said Every Fool, Ever

Let’s be real. We’ve all heard the excuses: “I stayed because I love him” or “She’ll change.” Newsflash: If someone consistently disrespects you or takes you for granted, staying isn’t noble, it’s foolish. A relationship isn’t a charity event where you hand out endless second chances.

I don’t care how much you think you love someone, if they have you feeling less than or questioning your worth, that’s not love it’s manipulation. Trust me, God wants better for you. He’s not rooting for you to be a martyr in a one-sided romance.

The Only Foolproof Love Is God’s Love

Let’s face it, being a fool for love is overrated. The only foolproof love that exists is the one God has for us. It’s unconditional, unfailing, and most importantly, wise. It doesn’t ask us to dim our light for anyone or settle for less.

A Little Humour Never Hurt

And hey, a little joke to wrap this up: If you’re considering being a fool for love, just remember, there’s a reason they call it falling in love, not tripping over yourself for love. 😄

And hey, if you ever find yourself in doubt, just ask yourself what would Jesus do? Probably not send that “I miss you” text to someone who hasn’t replied in 3 months. Let’s keep it moving, folks.

So, let’s leave the foolishness to comedy and save our hearts for the love that builds us, not breaks us.

No more fools in love—just people who know their worth. Here’s to loving smart!

No more love blindfolds—just hearts that see clearly. Here’s to loving wisely!

No more hopeless romantics—only hopeful realists. Love smart, live happy!

No more chasing after love—just walking alongside it, with eyes wide open.

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Cold Feet

Embracing Uncertainty and Taking the Leap

Author: Mawutor Akosua Ametame

We’ve all been there—standing at the edge of a big decision, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over us. Our hearts race, our minds spin, and suddenly, we get the urge to step back. This feeling, known as “cold feet,” can hit us in all areas of life whether it’s about relationships, career choices, or personal goals. But what if these moments of hesitation aren’t just obstacles but chances to grow? Let’s dive into what cold feet really mean, why they happen, and how embracing them can lead to some of the best experiences of our lives.

What Is Cold Feet?

Cold feet happen when doubt and fear suddenly strike just before we’re about to make a big commitment or decision. It’s that moment when the weight of what’s ahead suddenly feels overwhelming, and we start questioning everything. Am I making the right choice? What if this goes horribly wrong? These thoughts can be paralyzing, making us second-guess ourselves and sometimes even run from what we were about to do.

Why Do We Get Cold Feet?

Understanding why we get cold feet is key to dealing with it. Here are some common reasons why we hesitate:

Fear of the Unknown: Stepping into something new can be scary. Our brains are wired to seek safety, so the unknown naturally makes us anxious.

Fear of Failure: The thought of failing and dealing with the fallout can be terrifying. We might worry about not living up to our own expectations or those of others.

Self-Doubt: Sometimes, we just don’t believe in ourselves enough. We might question if we deserve the opportunity or if we’re capable of succeeding.

Social Pressure: The expectations of society or family can add to our fears. The pressure to fit in or please others can make us afraid to take a different path.

How to Embrace Cold Feet

Instead of seeing cold feet as a sign that something’s wrong, we can look at it as a natural part of making decisions. Here’s how to embrace and move through it:

Acknowledge Your Feelings: It’s okay to feel scared and unsure. Recognizing these emotions without judging yourself is the first step in dealing with them.

Remember Your Why: Think back to why you wanted to make this decision in the first place. What motivated you? Reconnecting with your reasons can reignite your passion.

Evaluate the Risks and Rewards: Take a clear look at what could go wrong and what could go right. Seeing both sides can help you put your fears into perspective.

Seek Support: Talk to friends, family, or mentors about your worries. Their advice and encouragement can give you the reassurance you need.

Take Small Steps: Break down your decision into smaller, manageable steps. Focusing on one thing at a time can make the whole process feel less overwhelming.

Visualize Success: Picture yourself succeeding and enjoying the benefits of your decision. This can boost your confidence and reduce your anxiety.

A Personal Story: Taking the Leap

Let me share a story about my friend Christabel. She had cold feet before making a big career change. After years in a stable but boring job, she decided to follow her passion for baking. As the day to start her new venture got closer, she was filled with doubts. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she failed? But she decided to take the leap, acknowledging her fears but focusing on her love for baking. Today, Christabel. runs a successful bakery business and often looks back at her cold feet as just another step on her path to a fulfilling life.

Conclusion: The Courage to Keep Going

Cold feet are something we all experience, a sign that we’re on the edge of something important. By seeing hesitation as a natural part of growth, we can turn fear into motivation. By understanding our fears, getting support, and taking small steps, we can move forward with courage and confidence.

And hey, next time cold feet start creeping in, just remember: it’s like standing in front of an ice-cold swimming pool. The water might seem freezing, but once you jump in, you’ll wonder why you didn’t do it sooner. So take a deep breath, hold your nose, and dive right in. You might just find the water’s not so bad after all—unless, of course, you forgot to take off your socks. Then things might get a little awkward!