C for Mental Health is a consociation of Nigerian students championing student mental health in Nigeria through meaningful discourse, advocacy and community engagement. Newsletters are by students for students!
There’s this friend I’ve been advising for a very long time. She’s someone I care about deeply. I mean it, not just in words, but in all the little things.
I’ve warned her, stayed up listening to her rants, and poured my heart into every advice I gave.
And every single time, she would smile, promise to change, and then... go right back to that very thing...again and again.
I was becoming tired, not of her, but of the helplessness. Because I could see the consequences looming, I could literally feel it in my bones. But she would not listen.
And so, I stopped talking.
Not because I stopped caring, but because there’s only so much you can say before your voice starts to echo back at you...empty.
I still pray for her, and yeah, I still love her. But I’ve let her go... I’m letting her live her life the way she’s chosen to.
And when the storm finally comes...if it does...I’ll be here.
Not with judgment, but with a shoulder to cry on, a hug, and maybe a listening ear. Because that’s what love does.
So yeah...
I’ve realized that care doesn’t always come in soft, soothing tones.
Sometimes, care looks like warning, even when you know they wouldn’t listen.
It is advising when you’re almost certain they’ll throw away your advice.
It is shouting, not out of anger, but out of fear...fear of what’s ahead if they don’t turn around. Sometimes, care means feeling their pain deeply, as if it’s yours. But not being able to do anything about it.
It means crying in silence, praying in secret, and carrying the weight they don’t even realize they’ve handed to you.
And sometimes... care looks like just standing by...watching them fall apart, not because you want them to, but because that’s the only way they’ll finally stop trying to escape the truth.
So you wait.
Not to say “I told you so,”
But to be there when they need help picking up the broken pieces.
That’s also care.
Even when it doesn’t look like it.
And no, it’s not weakness. It’s love, in its hardest form.
Hi, I’m Zainab Oderinlo.
I write real stuff about mental health and life. I talk about my struggles, my thoughts… all of it. I sincerely hope it helps you feel less alone.🫶❤️
I was this friend to Lillian. My best friend. Listened to her, sacrificed so many things so she could get over what she was going through. Advised her. but she never took any. I got tired. stretched beyond limits. I wasn't reaching out like I used to. few months later, I heard she committed suicide..I was broken..I should have called her more often, should have continued to listen.shouldn't have given up on her.. maybe things wouldn't turn out this way. I miss her terribly.
Hmmm
This is fantastic.
I love it.
Keep going darling.
Cheers to more impact on people's lives in positive ways.👍
Well done.💖🫂