Fear, Faith and Finding My Voice

 

By Mrs. Lizzie

I stepped into the university like a tiny fish dropped into a vast ocean—an ocean filled with crocodiles, expectations, and strange new freedoms. It was the first time I had ever been away from home. No more warm meals waiting on the table, no gentle voice waking me in the morning, no one watching to make sure I was doing the right thing. Just me—alone, unsure, and quietly terrified.

Everything was different. I had to wake myself up for lectures, learn to study without anyone reminding me, and participate in group discussions with people I didn’t know. I had to navigate a world of tight schedules, noisy hostel rooms, and silent battles with loneliness. I had to learn to stand up for myself, manage my emotions, and—perhaps hardest of all—manage my money.

Back home, someone always handled the finances. At school, I learned the hard way that ₦5,000 doesn’t stretch as far as you think when you’re hungry, tired, and trying to keep up appearances. The first few months were filled with scarcity—sometimes physical, sometimes emotional. But slowly, I found balance. I began to stretch what little I had, plan better, say no when I had to, and yes when it mattered.

But even as I was learning to manage the external chaos, an internal journey was taking shape—one rooted in faith. I found myself turning to God in ways I never had before. Not because someone told me to, but because I needed to. When I didn’t know what to do, I prayed. When I felt overwhelmed, I cried and prayed again. Slowly, I realized I wasn’t really alone. God was becoming more than a name—I was beginning to experience His presence.

Still, I made mistakes. I overslept and missed classes. I wasted money. I trusted the wrong people. But all of these missteps became teachers in their own right.

Eventually, I began to find my rhythm—and part of that came from the friends I chose.

At first, I gravitated toward anyone who seemed friendly. But over time, I realized that who you walk with truly shapes where you go. I became more intentional about the people around me. I drew closer to those who had vision, who encouraged me in my faith, who challenged me to be better, and who prayed with me, not just partied with me. These friends didn’t just pass time with me—they helped mold me into a stronger, more grounded version of myself.

There were nights we shared tears over failed tests and days we laughed over shared goals and small wins. With them, I learned the value of accountability and mutual growth. Together, we were not just surviving university—we were transforming through it.

As that first year drew to a close, I realized something had changed. I was no longer the frightened fish, lost and unsure. I was becoming a young woman with depth, faith, and a voice—my own voice. A voice shaped by tears, by trials, by tiny victories, and by grace.

I’m still growing. Still learning. But now I know I can rise. I know I can adapt. I know that even when life throws me into unfamiliar waters, I won’t drown. I will find my way, because I’ve done it before.

And because I’m never truly alone.