#BN2023Epilogues: Jessica Ireju Struggled With Imposter Syndrome But She Learned to Become Stronger & More Resilient

One evening, while scrolling randomly on Instagram, I came across BellaNaija’s Features Editor’s IG story, encouraging people to send in their BN Epilogues. I sent her a DM, “Thinking if I should share or not share.” She encouraged me to contribute, and I thanked her quickly before ending the conversation, concealing the real reason why I was apprehensive about writing a post – I had become “the writer that forgot how to write.”

That seemed like a contradiction, considering I wrote my first book this year and tried my hands at writing new forms of content creation like scripting for radio. That may be true, but you see, the thing is, your success highlights insecurities and impostor syndrome takes a smirk in the audience for each new performance, while the spotlight shines on your flaws, revealing them brightly to others. That’s how I’ve felt throughout 2023.

With each win, I’ve thought of every loss. For every achievement, I think to myself, “She should be here” making me show her my pictures from the event while she grabs her eyeglasses to “see well.” There’s an unmistakable ache in my soul. With every career high, I am reminded of the girl who couldn’t land another job for three and a half years, no matter how much she tweaked her LinkedIn bio or revamped her CV. For every new podcast listener, I imagine all the women who haven’t told their stories because of all my stories I’m too afraid to share. And as if to confirm it, my abandoned blog stares right back at me, yelling, “You are a fraud.”

And so, I decided to perform, working overtime, journaling less, piling on classes and work deadlines to distract me from dealing with the real issues. 2023 was the year of burnout and overwhelm. I guess it comes with changing lanes and transitioning work industries. I begin to worship with a sigh; even relationships seem to be a chore. The reality of grief sinks in each day against a backdrop of weddings, babies, and graduations, all condensed into highlight reels shared on my WhatsApp status.

I finally found my rhythm halfway through the year, understanding that to “be,” you have to “do.” But how do you be (come) someone you don’t know? When the stranger you look at in the mirror has become so bruised by losses that her scars repulse you? How do you fall in love with imperfections when your flaws are the reason you are convinced you are not living your best life?

You hug her first and whisper the words you’ve heard in your heart over and over again, but today you choose to believe, “You are enough, Jessica, and it’s not your fault that some people left even when you wanted to say goodbye.” You begin to collate reviews of your book and share them on social media to remind yourself that you told your story to one woman, even if you didn’t reach thousands. You turn on the mic to record your new podcast, ignoring the numbers, and choose gratitude for every DM you get from your podcast listeners. You tentatively scribble out a new name for the blog, but then you realise your reinvention doesn’t mean you have to destroy the old parts of you but rather weave her into the fabric of the new version of yourself. So you find the most patient designer for your website and begin creating a home for your stories — the ones you’ve told in the past, the unfinished stories, and those yet to be told.

You lie in bed, typing your BN Epilogue on your phone, and you think to yourself, “This is just like when you started contributing features for BN in 2019.” You’ve come full circle. Writing this BN Epilogue feels like coming home. Sending this email will feel like sinking into my comfortable bed at home and gisting with my sister at the end of my day without fear of judgment—only laughs, appropriate pauses, and the animated response at the right time infused with laughter every minute. You pause and say, “Thank you, God. I can still translate my feelings into words. I thought I had lost the ability to do that this year with all of its challenges. Destiny will stretch you, it will seem to be ripping you apart as you experience pain, grief, and loss, but it is simply unfolding the glory of God.”

What are my plans for 2024? Same as always: Live on purpose, document the journey, and share stories with others. Do I know the specifics – book, blog, podcast? Not really. I’m learning to trust God and His timing. Will I choose to live with authenticity and audacity next year? Always!