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  • These 7 Jobs Should Come With Free Therapy

    Adulting is more than enough reason to seek therapy. Your entire life is just an endless cycle of bills and deciding what to eat.

    But you see these particular jobs? They’re so stressful, anyone who does them should automatically qualify for free therapy.

    POS operator

    Sure, they’re balling now, but they’re also fast becoming the subject of swears because of the high withdrawal charges the cash scarcity has forced them to impose. #PrayForAnOperatorToday

    Babalawo

    One day, you’re performing money rituals hitch-free. The next day, you hear the government wants to change currency. How do you tell the gods they have to start applying filter on the notes they send?

    Writer

    Especially Zikoko writers. You may already know this, but we’re not fully alright.

    TikToker

    Because it can’t be normal to dress up just to dance in front of a camera 24 hours every day.

    In fact, every content creator 

    Especially those who live in Nigeria. If NEPA isn’t acting up, it’s fuel acting like a shy bride. God, abeg.

    Tailor

    Yes, we love to hate tailors, but why would you give someone ₦5k for a corset dress? Think it na.

    Every worker in Nigeria

    Living in Nigeria is already hard. You now have to work? Sorry o.

    NEXT READ: 10 Signs a New Job Is About to Stress Your Life

    Tife Oni

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  • QUIZ: Podcast or Therapy: Take This Quiz and We’ll Tell You What You Need

    Do you need to start a podcast, or therapy? Find out at the end of this quiz.

    Meyimi O.

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  • What She Said: I Think They Misdiagnosed My Mental Illness

    The subject of this week’s What She Said is a Nigerian woman in her early twenties who was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She talks about her mental health journey in Nigeria, and why she thinks she was misdiagnosed.  

    What’s your earliest memory of your childhood? 

    The earliest memory I can recall is being molested by my uncle. I have no memory of anything before the age of eight, and I think that’s my brain trying to suppress the trauma from the assault and my parents neglecting me as a child. I lost my memories after the assault, and I only started recovering them again as an adult, but in fragments. 

    I’m so sorry that happened. Did your parents ever find out? 

    My parents eventually found out about it when I was nine or ten. I think they walked in while he was trying to molest me, but I don’t really remember. I just remember the aftermath and the questions they asked. He had to leave the house, but he was welcomed back so many times over the years. When they asked me what really happened, I was unable to tell the full story and had to lie that he only attempted to molest me.

    I lied because my parents were hysterical, and I was scared. My mum wouldn’t stop crying and calling me ruined. This was the first time I ever saw people so hysterical, so I thought I had to protect them. I was a child, I didn’t even know what protecting my parents meant. I just knew I did not want my mother to be so hysterical. 

    Would you say your mother reacted strongly?

    My mum was always an emotional person, so I witnessed a lot of her breakdowns and anger in a very extreme manner. When she got angry at me, she would call me names or hit me. Her moods were chaotic, so I never knew what to expect. 

    I think it affected my mood regulation, and showed me extreme expressions of anger, such as breaking things, saying horrible things and overall frantic efforts to avoid abandonment to be socially acceptable. Honestly, I believe she actually had some mental issues as well, but she never got any help. In fact, when she found out I tried to kill myself when I was 16, she opted to pray for me instead of actually helping me access help. My parents believe in faith therapy.

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    Did you tell your parents about the suicide attempt? 

    I did not tell anyone I tried to kill myself, so there was nobody to urge me to get help. My mother only found out because she read my diary, but she never confronted me about it. My parents do not talk about or confront things that make them uncomfortable. 

    Then I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder type II in 2016 when I was 18.  A friend of mine who had been my support system at the time encouraged me to get one because of my behaviour. I always knew I was not like the average person so getting the diagnosis made me feel validated. Like I was not imagining it. 

    I am so glad you were able to get a diagnosis. Did they put you on any medication?

    Yes. After I was diagnosed, I was put on medication, but I stopped after a year. The medication did more harm than good. It did help sometimes, but it also made me fatter and sicker. There were headaches, diarrhoea, nausea, and sexual problems like dryness and being unable to cum. Now, I’m relatively untreated. It’s difficult because I have episodes three to five times a day. 

    What’s an episode like for you? 

    A memory from years ago can resurface in my mind and trigger an episode. I can then spend the next two hours crying and having anxiety attacks about this memory. My mind tells me that I am a horrible and stupid person that is undeserving of love. I start to remember all the people who have left me and I feel unloveable. On more intense days, the voices in my head may tell me to cut myself. 

    On a more extreme day, I burned myself as punishment for being a horrible person to someone I loved when, in fact, I just couldn’t see that these were efforts to avoid abandonment by him. 

    And these are just normal for people with bipolar disorder? 

    Technically, I don’t think I have bipolar disorder. I think I have BPD —  borderline personality disorder. It is a disorder in which the sufferer experiences and expresses extreme mood swings and socially unacceptable, uncontrollable anger, usually in frantic efforts to avoid abandonment or perceived abandonment. Unlike bipolar disorder, which episodes last at least 2 weeks, BPD episodes can happen multiple times a day.

    I emotionally abused a guy once. We were friends with benefits and I really liked him and I placed him on a pedestal, but I always felt threatened that he would leave me for someone else — that’s called splitting. I constantly called him names, checked his phone, was controlling and bullied girls that were around him. My lack of control over my anger was punishing him. It took me three years to figure this out, and I apologised. He said he has forgiven me, but I still struggle to forgive myself. 

    After losing a lot of friends and relationships, I realised something was definitely wrong with me. The feelings I had did not match my thoughts or feelings. My fear of abandonment would come out as anger, and my hurt as contempt. After reading a lot and inquiring about my behaviour from people, I think BPD is a more accurate diagnosis. 

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    If you think you got a wrong diagnosis, why not go back to the doctor? 

    My experience with the mental health resources like medication and therapy is not great. The resources are ineffective, and mental health professionals are not understanding. It’s also not as affordable for the average person. Even though I can afford it right now, mental health professionals are judgmental or like to include faith healing. As someone who has traumatic experiences related to religion, this turns me off. 

    I think that mental health resources here are like a band-aid on a gunshot wound. They don’t help holistically but will help you feel better in the moment. 

    So with no medication, a misdiagnosis and your dislike for mental health resources in Nigeria, how do you navigate life? 

    I have a DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) textbook. I read it when I have episodes to help me remember that I am seeing things in black and white. It helps but not much.

    I’m very lucky that I am self-aware and more high-functioning than some other people. However, I don’t think I can work in a public space anymore. The last experience was traumatizing for me, and I enjoy working remotely now. It’s easier to deal with episodes at home. 

    What was your last job like? 

    I was a digital marketer and it stressed me out so much that I started to have episodes every time. I started having PTSD trauma nightmares about my sexual assault and when I finally got fired, I thought my life was over because I had hyper focused on my job and was so obsessed with trying to live up to expectations that I had neglected my health. 

    Is there anything that’d make life easier for you to navigate? 

    I think we need professionals to separate religion from their jobs, and go through empathy training. It’s not just about writing exams and passing. Medication should also be more accessible. 

    Nigerians also need more education on mental illness and how to relate with people with mental illnesses. People look at me as weak or foolish for being sick when I have episodes, they will either laugh or think I am dangerous and trying to harm them. 

    They should be more open-minded towards friends and family who have mental illness and learn how to navigate our behaviours that may be considered socially unacceptable. Also, the culture of bullying and microaggressions here needs to change. 

    Read more stories like this by subscribing to our women’s newsletter

    For more stories like this, check out our #WhatSheSaid and for more women like content, click here

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    Itohan Esekheigbe

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  • Therapists Are Not Saviours — A Week In The Life Of A Grief Counsellor

    A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week

    The subject of today’s “A Week In The Life” is a grief counsellor. Grief counsellors help people experiencing loss to examine the root cause of their emotions. Our subject tells us about how counsellors don’t have quick fixes for emotions, the tedium involved in his job, and why he shows up every day.

    MONDAY:

    The first thing I do when I get out of bed today is morning devotion. After which I have a bath. Then I prepare to start my day. A typical day for me involves either seeing patients with appointments or running operations at my volunteer job. Mondays are mostly for the operations role, and this involves following up with people, making sure tasks are done on schedule and generally being on top of things. 

     Mondays are also useful in helping me plan my week — I schedule patient appointments, follow up on patients progress and rest so I don’t burn out. 

    I’m pretty excited about today because I have plans to see a movie after work and to also try out a new food recipe from YouTube. I check my watch and realise that I’m running late. I turn off all the sockets and lights, take one last look to see I’m not forgetting anything and dash out of the door. Another Monday morning, another hustle begins.

    TUESDAY:

    People ask, “what is grief counselling?” and I tell them that it simply means taking a deep dive into a person’s life. Because of the many layers to grief — loss of a job, opportunity, failed business — counselling focuses not on the loss but on the quality of life before and after an incident.

    I remember losing my mum in 2005 and not feeling anything in real-time. Like most people, I avoided processing the loss and immediately threw myself into schoolwork. It was easier to function well during the day because I had so many activities to distract me. However, alone with my thoughts at night, I cried. This routine went on for a year, then I lost my paternal grandmother that I was close to. Because I had lost two people and refused to process it in such a short period of time, I switched off from being a jovial person and became reclusive and almost antisocial. 

    I continued to go through life as a recluse until I started living with a psychiatrist friend. He noticed that I didn’t mix with other flatmates or interact with anyone; I’d just come out to eat before dashing back into my room. One day he sat me down and asked me, “How are you?” I answered that I was fine. Then he said, “How are you really doing?”

    Such a simple question helped me unravel a lot of emotions I had suppressed and avoided facing. 

    My friend eventually came to the realisation that even though I had suffered losses in 2005 and 2006, I was still grieving in 2013. Because I didn’t properly grieve, I was living the life of another person for seven to eight years of my life.

    I eventually got therapy and dealt with my emotions. 

    That event showed me that grief causes people to spiral and can manifest as depression, panic attacks or anxiety. Grief counselling involves reviewing the before and after effect of an event and examining how it has affected a patient’s relationship with people, their life and their self-esteem. The knowledge is then used in developing a strategy for both patient and counsellor to walk through the loss together. 

    This is the pitch I give all my patients when they come to me. 

    I’m tired from running around yesterday, so I’m going to cancel my appointments and spend the day recharging. 

    WEDNESDAY:

    I did sleep hypnosis for a patient today and I almost “died.” I was so tired after the session that I needed a colleague to pick me up. One of the challenges of this job is that it takes an emotional toll on you. Constantly listening to grief stories is a weight that we must bear, and that’s why grief therapists seek out ways to offload. We do this by either spacing therapy appointments, asking for help when we’re stumped, or in my case, surfing the web and making podcasts.

    Another challenge grief counsellors face is that people want quick fixes for their emotions. I tell them that emotions take time to resolve and involves the active participation of the person feeling them. If the patient is not ready to put in the effort to examine their feelings, then the therapist will never get to the root of the issue. 

    Patient participation ensures that patients who recover are clear-eyed about the steps that got them out of a funk. Knowing the difference between the steps they took and how a therapist helped prevents patients from saying: “It’s God,” or “It was my therapist that helped me get through my grief.” 

    I’ve had clients cancel on me because they either didn’t feel better after one session or they didn’t want to do the soul searching assignments I gave them. I’ll still not stop preaching that there’s no magic formula; therapists are not saviours. Psychologists are not saviours. Psychiatrists are not gods. We don’t have the answers and we need patients’ participation in therapy. Without effort on the part of our patients, there’s not a lot we can do.

    THURSDAY:

    A lot of Nigerians approach grief like something that goes away unattended to. Only very few people come seeking help after losing a loved one. There are some people who consider break downs as not being emotionally strong. I encourage my patients to cry, especially if it helps them get through a difficult situation.

    I generally advise people who are grieving not to blame themselves, especially if they think their action or inaction was somehow responsible for the death. The next step is to encourage them to have conversations with people so they can sit with their emotions. Conversations help to examine their thoughts about an issue and to also observe how thoughts affect feelings and how feelings influence behaviour. It then becomes “easy” for the therapist to hold their hands as they break thoughts, and ultimately, their behaviour in the aftermath of a traumatic event. 

    This method doesn’t always work, especially on days like today where I’m dealing with a difficult patient. We’re not making any progress in her sessions because she’s not ready to examine the root of her grief. She has been missing sessions, ignoring assignments and generally been uncooperative. 

    I’ve decided to refer her to another colleague. 

    A major downside to this job is that because the service is intangible, it’s difficult for people to appreciate the value. If it was a tangible product, I’m sure that more people would cooperate. Regardless of the challenges, we move.

    FRIDAY:

    The plan for today is simple: make podcasts and upload videos to my Youtube channel after seeing a few patients. I’ve been creating content around grief and mental health since as far back as 2009. I envision a reality where there’s so much accessible knowledge that anyone can hold a basic mental health conversation. As a society, we need to be able to talk about how we feel without being made to feel like we’re worthless or we’ve committed a crime. 

    We need more people to be in touch with their emotions. My perfect future is one where your excuse for not knowing about mental health won’t be that you’ve not heard or you didn’t have resources. This is what gets me out of bed every morning to repeat the hustle cycle over and over again. 

    Thank God the weekend is here because, on Monday, we go again. 

    Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life ” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill this form.

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    Hassan Yahaya

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  • “Therapy Is Helping My Anxiety About Money” – Man Like Dwin The Stoic

    What does it mean to be a man? Surely, it’s not one thing. It’s a series of little moments that add up.

    “Man Like” is a weekly Zikoko series documenting these moments to see how it adds up. It’s a series for men by men, talking about men’s issues. We try to understand what it means to “be a man” from the perspective of the subject of the week.

    The subject of today’s “Man Like” is Edwin, popularly known as Dwin The Stoic. He talks about quitting his 9-5 to pursue music, his anxieties about money, and how he navigates the expectations of masculinity.

    Tell me a story from your childhood about struggling with “being a man.”

    I remember in secondary school I didn’t give a fuck about football. I still don’t. However, it was something other boys used to mock me. I didn’t want to be called “gay,” so I went to study football. I learnt the rules, players’ name, teams. I had to learn enough about football to carry a conversation. Things are different these days because the only time I watch football is if Nigeria is playing or I’m bored and the person I’m with is watching. Then, I might watch. 

    Interesting.

    It’s funny how we have all these rules for what men are supposed to do and enjoy. I’m glad I started questioning it along the way. It’s good when you understand that there’s nothing inherently manly about enjoying a certain activity — who even said you must enjoy it? 

    At one point in school, I started telling people pink was my favourite colour because there was the assumption that I couldn’t like it. 

    Lmao. How did that go?

    It went okay. 

    Love it. When did you now get that you’re a “man” now?

    Everyone’s “man now” moment sounds monumental to me because mine seems tiny. I’d say my own moment was deciding to tell my parents that I wanted to pursue music. Before then, I had worked as a copywriter at an advertising agency, and my father kept telling me to get a “real job.” After NYSC, I got a “real job” as a tech consultant, and I also paid for studio time. The idea was to record an album that year. After getting studio time, I sat my parents down and told them I had gotten a job and was also working on my album. I was like, I’m not asking for your permission, I’m just informing you about what I’ll be doing with my time.

    Ahan. Biggest Boy.

    Lool.

    Please, continue. 

    They sat down there like, “Cool, dope.” The music thing is not new to them. They were the ones who told me to finish my first degree before considering anything music.

    That was the moment for me. I was like, whatever happens on this album is on me because I made the decision. 

    Were you not scared?

    I was. I left school in 2015, and that was the last time I collected money from my parents. I was making my own money and living under their roof, but I didn’t feel like I was properly handling shit on my own. That’s why in 2018, after NYSC, when I decided to pursue music, I was finally alone. On some level, I’m lucky that they understood because I can’t imagine what life would have been like if they didn’t support me. Everything now added up to me having to prove that the music could work out. The love of music kept me going through all the fear. 

    Interesting. What was the scariest time for you during this period? 

    Quitting my 9 -5 to focus fully on music. 

    Sorry, you did what? 

    Lmao. 

    I’m a believer that everything that happened had to happen for me to be where I am today. Leaving my very secure job was a huge risk. To add to it, I was also going through a break up at the time. I told myself: “You are without gainful employment or love. You’re a young man who can do many things, but you chose to pursue the thing that brings you the least amount of money.” For me, this was both a harsh and scary realisation. 

    I honestly didn’t think I’d leave the job. Part of the reasons I got a job was so I’d never be in the position I suddenly found myself in. 

    Mahn. 

    It didn’t end there. All this happened in 2019. As I was about making plans for 2020, Corona came. This year showed me pepper because I was just coming out from a terrible period in my life. I’d just paid for a co-space in Yaba where I could be doing freelance work from. In this Corona period, I’ve asked myself, “What’s this life, am I cursed?”

    I’m sorry. How are your finances? 

    See, I have a lot of anxiety and it stems from little things like not having money. I started therapy and that’s helping me to not worry too much about money. I tend to tie my worth to it. When my therapist examined all aspects of my life, he found out that anxiety was a common thread in all my dealings. So, that’s what we worked on. 

    Noticed any improvement?

    All my life, I’ve tried to shake off a lot of heteronormativity. I’ve tried to remove “No be man you be?” from my dictionary because I heard it so much growing up. However, I’m still struggling to shake off the part of not having a lot of money. It’s funny because I’m not interested in kids or marriages, which are usually the major financial constraints for men. Regardless, not having money made me think less of myself. Therapy and this year have taught me to be pragmatic. When I start to have anxiety about money, I remind myself of the skills I have that can make me money, and I pursue them. 

    I know in my head that tying my worth to money is wrong, but my mind won’t budge. E no gree.

    We still live in a patriarchal world and I’m under no delusion that I’ll get through life with struggling artist aesthetics. That shit is played out. I know it’s easy to say that you don’t need money and that you just need to be a nice guy.

    Lmaooooit’salieooooo

    [Laughs]

    Oh. I know what obtains in reality. Man, you better get your money up. 

    I’m slowly getting to a place where I just want to make money to enjoy my life. I used to restaurant hop before Corona started, and it’s something I’d like to continue after it lets up. Even if my worth isn’t tied to money, my enjoyment is.

    I’m doing things and working for a better life. 

    Oh. Like what?

    With music, there have been a couple of high points this year – releasing my band, Ignis Brothers’ debut album and co-writing on Adekunle Gold’s album. I did a theme song for OneRead and my startup TheContractAid is going into beta so yeah, those have been cool.

    Ahan. Do giveaway

    Lmaooo. Getaway this guy.

    Lmao.

    I’m curious: when was the last time you cried?

    It was last month. The morning after the Lekki massacre, my mum called and asked how I was. I was unable to answer, so I just started crying.

    The thing with tears is that sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn’t. There are times you’ll cry and still go back to the nonsense that made you cry. I feel that men trying to do away with toxic masculinity still have to fight years of conditioning to even cry. It’s impossible to unlearn in one day, but it’s the work we should all do. 

    I feel you.

    Moving away from stereotypes of masculinity will make men stop stifling themselves. I hope we come to realise that it’s to our advantage. I hear on Twitter that a lot of men are not moaning. My friend, open your mouth, scream and enjoy yourself. Being silent doesn’t help us at all. You’ll just miss out on the fun. Don’t tighten your chest. 

    Dead. Has anything ever threatened your idea of masculinity?

    There have been cases where I had my conviction about certain things, but I couldn’t do anything. One of them was the burial of an extended family member. I already have issues with how my people [Igbo people] handle burials and the way money plays centre stage, then I was asked to drop a certain amount of money as “ a man.” I was broke at the time, but I had to look for the money. Resisting would have meant standing up to a large institution [culture] with years of history. It didn’t seem worth it, so I gave them the money. 

    Another area is marriage. I told my mother I’m not crazy about marriage, and she’s still in denial. But I know I’ll still probably do it because society and culture expect it from me as a man. 

    After I got my first job, I kept on getting marriage questions from my aunties. It became a thing. For someone with anxiety, it became a bigger deal. I’m at a place where I hope to meet someone good who also shares my ideals and is cool with the kind of person I am.

    Love it. I’m curious: what was it like going from a committed relationship to the streets?

    I didn’t recognise the streets anymore. It had been two years since I was on the streets and everything was so different. I was just like wow — I have to start finding out about people’s lives again? Their interests? Guys, let’s just…

    Check back every Sunday by 12 pm for new stories in the “Man Like” series. If you’d like to be featured or you know anyone that would be perfect for this, kindly send an email.

    [donation]

    Hassan Yahaya

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