Diary entries from Anhedonia
My 2024 in Review
I originally started writing this in early November. So if it turns out to be very long, it’s because it’s two essays mashed up into one, or maybe just one really long essay. After all, my life is present and continuous.
It was supposed to be an erratic piece of what Q4 had been like. But as I started to write, I felt more like a hollow shell making a lot of noise. Every time I opened my laptop to bang out words, I had this sinking feeling deep within — it made me sick. Usually, when I am having a hard time, I feel better when I write about it. But this time, it didn’t feel that way.
Honestly, I don’t think this is my best work or the best thing I could have written. But I hold myself to the standard that my next should always be better than my last, so maybe I am not being kind to myself.
Creating (in any form) often comes from lived experiences or a deep place of imagination. To write something truly riveting, you must dig deep into your soul, feelings, and experiences to bring forth something. And when you don’t have anything, you must steal from others or find a way to generate external chaos that seeps into your life and catalyzes those feelings. But here is the problem: I am neither chaotic nor messy.
So, I stopped writing. I think it was because I was trying to infuse something into my writing that wasn’t there. I was saying nothing, writing nothing, just words. I was anhedonic, and I have probably been that way for months now, and I didn’t notice until then.
When I published my last essay in October (by the way, I had been writing that for 3 months), which had a happier undertone, a friend commented how nice it was to read something so joyful and light-hearted. Considering that my writings are never that way. So, I tried waiting until I had something more light-hearted to share or write about, but I honestly did not have it in me. I don’t know when or if those times will ever come. But if I had to wait every time I felt this way — light-hearted and happy, then I may not write as often.
Anhedonia, the lack of interest, enjoyment or pleasure from life’s experiences.
A few weeks ago, I received a rejection response for something I desperately wanted. My mum was also visiting at the time, and I was a sourpuss most of the day, but I was fine by dinner. When she was leaving the next day, she commented that the bad news I received didn’t let her “enjoy her daughter.” I retorted, “What do you mean you didn’t enjoy your daughter? It’s not like I am a happy, no-care-in-the-world person. This is me; this is what you get.” She looked at me puzzled and replied just as fast, “Don’t say that; what do you mean you are not a happy person…” It was the truth, but maybe I should not have told her.
When she left, I started to think about what I had said. It made me ask myself, “Am I an unhappy person, or does my circumstance make me constantly unhappy it has become my default nature?”
My parents don’t usually see me like this. When I visit them once every 12–18 months, I shed everything that burdens me and disconnect from stressors. For the one week, I spend with them, I am their happy-go-lucky child.
But this time, my mum was meeting me in my home, my space, my natural habitat, and what she probably saw was me constantly pacing, tapping on my forehead for hours on end, clacking at my keyboard, trying to come up with solutions to problems late into the night, searching for an alternative to the rejection, all the while fighting thoughts of anxiety about my future. So, I guess she was surprised by this version of me.
I spent a lot of time thinking about what I had said to my mom. To be fair, I think about everything I say. It is one of the umpteenth reasons I avoid human interactions.
For me, interacting with people doesn’t end when we are no longer together. My mind replays every event, conversation, response, and slight change in body movement. Having a mind that loves to replay events, optimize conversations, figure out if I missed something, and sometimes fall into a rabbit hole just from simple interactions is incredibly exhausting, as you can imagine.
People meet me, see pictures or videos of me, and comment about how peaceful and happy I seem. Reading this now, you might say, “I have seen you smile and laugh about stuff, so how can you say you don’t enjoy it or feel any pleasure in anything?” Well, because I don’t! Everything feels numb, uninteresting, and pointless, and the constant thought in my head that I have to wake up and do this for another 40–50 years is terrifying.
Climbing Ladders
I don’t remember much about the early part of this year except that I had a singular goal and developed tunnel vision. I wanted to change jobs. It was as simple as that. I wanted and needed to earn more, but I also wanted to do something that gave me a better sense of fulfilment. So, for the first two quarters of the year, I was “locked in” and did what was necessary to achieve my goals.
Recently, Aidovhioghie (Oghie for short — one of my close friends, and I used her full name because that is what she prefers) and I decided to work on a project together that should go out in Q2 2025. We told Lily about it, and she said, “… perfect, Oghie; now that you have told Keyu about it and decided to do it together, IT WILL BE DONE!”.
I laughed and was kind of amused because I consider myself rather laid-back and unambitious. But then, I do have a reputation for doing what I say I will do. I like to believe that I am careful about what I say out loud because I mean what I say.
I think most people find it unbelievable that I am this way. Solomon says he is so sure people are usually perturbed by how direct I am, especially over text. Lily argues that I have no social skills and no diplomatic bone in my body.
I find diplomacy quite exhausting and annoying. I can’t remember the last time I lied or if I even knew how to. I remember lying as a kid to get out of trouble, but somehow, I always got caught and punished (probably more than I would have if I had just told the truth).
It truly puzzles people that I mean precisely what I say, stick to it, and will live up to it. This is why one of my pet peeves is when someone tries to change my mind after I’ve made my position clear (especially in romantic contexts or lifestyle choices). Because I think deeply about what I say and the decisions I make, when I conclude, it’s after careful consideration of all angles and consequences. I’m not making snap judgments or speaking without thought — I’ve already done the mental work to reach that position. So, attempts to sway me feel like a dismissal of the thorough process I’ve already undertaken rather than respecting that I’ve made an informed and deliberate choice.
I don’t know if the fact that I visibly can’t be bothered to lie to people is a factor of being Neurodivergent or if being truthful was whacked into me. But I have always found the truth to be a better salve and more soothing. It means all the cards are laid before me, and I get to make an informed choice. But we won’t talk about how I feel about lies and dishonesty today, or we will be here forever.
So yeah, I said, decided I was going to change jobs, and I did that sh*t. It was my greatest achievement this year. I am very proud of myself.
This doesn’t mean that I no longer feel ennui; it just means I acknowledge and pat myself on the back for what I am doing well. If I am only self-aware about what I am doing wrong or badly, then that’s not self-awareness; it’s self-loathing and self-sabotaging (and believe it or not, I actually quite love myself).
It’s just a hobby
My second most significant achievement was finally doing an exhibit.
I have always doodled in books, but when I saw how my mom used to smack my brother (who is now an Illustrator and Character designer btw) for covering all his notebooks with drawings, I gave up on it, thinking, “Yeah, this is not worth being smacked for.”
I started painting in 2021 and realized that I absolutely loved it. It was a safe space for me, a means of expression, and a way to numb my mind. The more I painted, the more I had all these paintings sitting in my house. Friends would come and tell me how good they were (but to be fair, they are my friends. If they don’t tell me it is good, do they really love me?)
Adebowale was the first person to pay me to paint something for his house. Today, Debo’s house is filled with my paintings plastered in every corner. His appreciation of my hobby gave me the courage to consider exhibiting my work.
To be clear, I didn’t exhibit publicly — just a private one in my house with my friends. I showed 27 pieces, and I sold 22 of them. Awesome right? Are my paintings that good? Honestly, I don’t know. I love every piece because I remember each deliberate and soulful brushstroke that went into it and now my friends get a piece of that love.
The good news is that I am now considering a public exhibit, so maybe you can judge if/when you see it.
The loud silence
This year, I have grappled with many thoughts and fought parts of myself that I have rejected for years because I have tried to fit into a box of labels and expectations.
As I became accepting of myself, I realized that this acceptance needed a mode of outward expression. While I am not interested in explaining myself or defending how I choose to take up space in the world, there was/is the constant desire to assert myself in a medium of expression that is ambiguous and yet definitive of how I feel (In retrospect, I think this process probably started in 2022 with my first tattoo, but I didn’t know what it was).
I have always feared being perceived, but I finally thought, “Instead of fearing it, why not control the narrative? You will be seen anyway, so why not control what they see?”
In my 2022 Year-in-Review, I talked about how I love being a woman. Now I know what you are thinking. Oh wow, do you hate it now? Well, no, I don’t.
Instead, I have a new epiphany. I have come to realize that fashion — clothing — has meaning. It isn’t simply a covering or adornment. It expresses and tells stories, and I found expression in my style and choice of clothing. Growing up, I often heard this statement: “Dress how you want to be addressed.” I guess I never quite understood this until now.
My third and final achievement for the year was finding my style. Over the years, I have had many phases: the tomboy, the goth/emo, the church girl, the corporate girlie, etc. But in all of this, nothing has made me as comfortable or spoken to me as where I am now — in an androgynous fashion.
I am not trying to be a boy, but dressing in the way that the world defines femininity doesn’t quite sit right with me either. I have finally found how to balance that, and it feels liberating. My choice of adornment is like a uniform and armour. In the past, when I walked into a room and the heads turned, I freaked out internally. But now, when it happens, I think, “That’s right, I am who you think I am — whatever that is, but it doesn’t matter because I know who I am, and I am comfortable with it” (I know, I know, Confidence is sexy!!!).
Now, monthly manicures are a staple in my monthly self-care routine. It’s an expensive (and maybe unnecessary) lifestyle choice, but I do it anyway. Apart from the therapeutic and relaxing process, I like it when I shake hands and people tell me they like my nail art. Having stylish and colourful nails gives me a glimmer of joy and allows some artistic expression. “But that’s girly,” you say. Yes, I know, but I did say Androgyny.
I also wear more jewellery now, who would have thought! Sure, having the means to invest in my appearance and finally buy the clothes I’ve always wanted has played a role. But this transformation is about so much more than that. It’s about quieting the internal chaos, embracing who I am, and finding solace in presenting myself to the world in a way that feels true to me.
Clothes, shoes, jewellery, and styling — collectively, fashion — allow people to express their identity subtly and strikingly boldly without using words. While I recognize that this can reinforce stereotypes, which can be harmful if left unchecked, it remains an undeniable aspect of how the human collective operates.
My 16-year-old self would be super proud of me, lost as she may have been. I haven’t lived long, but I think she was the most genuine part of me — unburdened by the expectations of others and living life on her terms.
Wrap it up, woman!
I know this is where people talk about their plans for the new year, but I don’t care right now and don’t have the mental space for it. I already have so much on my plate, and I have no desire to do or take on any more. Don’t get me wrong, I have plans. I have this compulsive need to plan everything. But whether or not I follow the plan is a different ball game. I don’t trust myself, considering where my head is at right now, so I am not writing about it.
For the first time in my life, I am battling impostor syndrome. I work for a bigger company on a global playing field, and I am constantly fretting about making a difference among all the other talented and amazing people I work with at my new job.
“Knowledge is a paradox. The more one understands the more one realizes the vastness of one’s ignorance” — Viktor from Arcane.
Someone once said it takes an intelligent mind to realize and accept that they are ignorant. I don’t know if that makes me feel any better, but it somehow makes sense. I suppose all I can do is stay open to knowledge and try my best.
On the other hand, I also have school work, which is after my life. It turns out that trying to do an Online Master’s Program in Computer Science is not a piece of cake. I am banking on the part of my brain that says, “You can’t let your money go to waste,” to spur me into putting my all into this. But, not gonna lie; it’s a struggle. At this point, I want to put out a tweet for a study buddy in my program, even though I know it’s a long shot.
In my 2022 year in review, I wrote about getting 5 minutes of joy and peace and relishing it. Over time, I think I just expected it to happen, and then I lost track of it. But I see now it doesn’t work that way, and I need to deliberately seek it out and note it when it happens without my input, i.e., journaling. I am considering going back to therapy, but I am not solid about that decision yet. If I do, you may or may not read about it.
I started something called Friday Waffles with Focus and Solomon about a month ago. It has become one of my week’s highlights, so I look forward to all 52 waffles next year. There are also the sleepovers and yapping sessions with my “Farm Tools,” even though Nigeria is bound to separate all of us really soon (I guess I should enjoy it while it lasts).
Since all my friends suddenly decided to grow up and get married, I have four weddings to attend between now and the year’s end. Don’t mind my tone, though; I am genuinely happy that they have found awesome people with whom they want to live life. I just don’t like being in Lagos in December because that’s my hibernation time. I suppose I should look forward to more weddings and other celebrations in 2025.
Usually, people wait until the last week of the year or the first week of the new year to publish their year in review, but I don’t give a damn! I am so over this year; I am done! I can’t wait for it to end!
Merry Christmas, and see you all in 2025!
