Lemons or Lemonades

From A to Zen: Your Guide to An Empowered Life

Apr 14, 2025

My eyes are watery.
Not from crying, but because of my eye defect, the one that sometimes decides to completely ignore my medicated glasses.

But here I am. Writing this.

After clearing three drafts and wrestling with my thoughts, I’ve decided to let this one flow: messy, honest, and all heart.

What Would 10-Year-Old Lara Ask Me Now?

She’d probably sit across from me, legs swinging off the edge of a chair, eyes wide with curiosity.

She’d ask:
Lara, are you still writing? I miss reading your stories.
Did you publish the books yet? I can’t wait to read them!
Are you famous now? I can’t wait to see you on TV.
Did you buy the BMW for Mom? I’m sure she’ll love it.
Did you take Mom and Dad to Manchester, like you always said you would?
Did you find the one—the one you want to spend forever with?

And I… well, I’d smile.
A lot of answers, not enough time.

I’d tell her:
I’m still writing. But I took a long break.
I stopped for years and only recently found my way back.
I haven’t published those books, those ones got tossed out.
But I’m working on new ones. Better ones. And I believe I’ll finish them by the end of this year.

I’m not famous, not yet.
But I have a small, beautiful community here on Substack who read my stories and cheer me on.
I even have someone who calls me "my president."
And even though I sometimes feel unworthy of that title, I carry it with quiet gratitude.

I haven’t bought Mom the car yet.
I haven’t taken them to Manchester.
And no… I haven’t found "the one" either.
That last part still stings a little.

But Life is Changing

Life looks so different now. So different from the stories I scribbled in my little journal as a child. Life moved fast—so fast I’m scared I missed out on so many opportunities.

Sometimes I wonder:
What if I didn’t switch to Sciences?
What if I’d stayed in Art class like I originally wanted?
Would I have become a published author by now?
Would I have bestselling books?
Would I be a global phenomenon?

Maybe? Maybe not.
Guess we’ll never know.

But after years of moving through the fog of doubt and uncertainty, things are finally starting to make sense again.

So I’d tell little Lara: “Just you wait. It gets better.”

Because one day, when twenty-something Lara asks these same questions to thirty-something Lara, the answers will be different.
Different in a good way.
The kind of different that makes her smile.
Not a sad smile,
But a soft, nostalgic, happy one.

The Lemon Season

And So I Turn To You

Are you feeling like you’re wasting time?
Like you’re just watching life pass you by?
Like a spectator in your own story?

You’re not alone.

That 9–5 that drains your soul every single day?
That’s lemon.

Every morning you wake up and sigh because the future looks so bleak?
That’s lemon.

Every time you look at your account balance and wonder when it’ll finally read six figures.
Lemon.

And when you ask yourself:
When will I be able to afford a vacation? To shake my ass on a yacht in Dubai?
To have breakfast in Paris and lunch in Venice?
Or to go grocery shopping without spending hours on my calculator app, practicing opportunity cost?

Lemon. Lemon. Lemon.

When you want to take that course,
Or pay for that cooking class,
Or buy that camera for content creation.
But you can’t even afford that.
And you realize you need money to make money...
But even the first money you need, you don’t have.

Lemons… Lemons… Lemons.

In the Middle of the Sour…

Let’s remember, lemons rot or ripen—but we get to choose which.

Nigeria may have failed us.
We may have become victims of circumstances.
We may have become slaves to the labour market.
We may be selling our souls for money, disguised as white-collar jobs.
We may be struggling to keep our heads above water in the sea of inflation and economic chaos.

But what if we saw every struggle, every setback, every stumble—as lemons in the process of ripening?

What if we understood that before we can make lemonade,
The lemon must mature—soften, sweeten just enough to yield juice under pressure?

What if we realized that the ripening process would be hard,
That we’d fail.
Again and again.
But we can’t win without failing first.

You have to let the lemons ripen. You have to win.
Not just for you—but for everyone who ever believed in you.

So Here’s to the Lemonade Makers
To the ones who choose not to let life harden them,
But instead let time and trials mature them.
To those who wake up tired, yet still show up.
Who still believe—even if just a little.
That something good can come out of this season.

To the people juggling dreams and survival,
Scrolling through job posts with heavy eyes,
Attending one more interview,
Taking one more online course,
Holding on, because giving up is not an option.

This country may stretch us,
The system may break us,
But we are not without power.

So take the lemons.
The delays, the disappointments, the detours.
Let them ripen.
Then squeeze every lesson,
Every bit of strength,
Every glimpse of light,
Into something sweet and refreshing.

Make your own version of success.
Your own kind of happiness.
Your own definition of a soft life.

Because in the end,
It’s not just about what life gives you.
It’s about what you make of it.

And you?
You’re not done yet.
Not even close.

You’re just getting started—with lemonade.

See you next Monday!

Wishing you a juicy, joy-filled week ahead.❤️