I believed that as long as I stayed messy and broken, I’d never deserve the life I wanted—until the day everything changed.

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A Morning I Couldn’t Forget

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I had wet the bed…again. 

I got up and pulled my damp sheets away, their wrinkles etched into my skin like an unwelcome reminder. 

The smell hits you immediately, sour and unmistakable, filling the small room I shared with my little brothers. Like clockwork, the voices in my head chimed in too, calling me disgusting, worthless…unlovable. 

I shuffled to the shower, desperate to scrub away the evidence. I scrubbed and scrubbed until the bar of soap was nearly gone, but it didn’t work. I sprayed so much perfume that I should have smelled like flower was my middle name, but still, I reeked. I felt trapped in it—a mess in every sense of the word. 

I wasn’t clean enough. I wasn’t good enough. 

And as I thought about school, all I could focus on was how I’d stay away from everyone, how I’d avoid letting anyone get too close—physically or emotionally. 

It was in those moments that the belief settled in: as long as I was wetting the bed, I’d have to hide myself. I would never be good enough for anything. 

Pause for a moment. 

If you’re reading this, I bet you’ve had an experience like that—one that made you want to shrink, to disappear, convinced that life would be easier if you just stayed hidden. Hold that memory in your mind. We’ll rewrite it together. 

Fast forward to college. Same story, different setting. Every morning, I woke up, bundled my wet sheets, and washed them, over and over. I barely left my dorm room. My flat mates stayed strangers because I was too busy hiding away. And this isolation only made me more depressed and lonely. 

But, one morning, after tossing my sheets in the washer yet again, I stopped myself. I sat there on my cold, naked bed, staring at the mess of my life, and thought: I can’t keep living like this. 

I didn’t know when it would end. Maybe it never would. But I realized I couldn’t keep letting this define me. 

Somehow, I had to find a way to look forward to mornings—whether I woke up wet or dry. 

That morning, I made a decision. I was done being “the sick girl,” the one hiding in the shadows, pretending she was more comfortable in the background while her big dreams stayed trapped in the pages of her journals. 

It sounds cliché, I know, but I wanted more than just to survive. I wanted to live. That was the day my journey of reinvention began. And the wildest part? I didn’t even know it yet.

Stage 1: Realize.

Core value: Grace.

Sitting there on my cold, naked bed, I couldn’t deny it any longer—something in my life was deeply out of alignment. I realized I couldn’t keep living this way. 

That was the first step: realizing that staying the same wasn’t an option.

Like a turtle, I started diving deep into the waters of my past, questioning the stories I had told myself. And I had to surrender the misbelief that reinvention was for people who had their lives together, not for someone like me—messy, broken, and ashamed.

But even more, I had to learn to give myself grace—the courage to say, “I may not have gotten it right today, but I’m going to try again tomorrow.” Self-reinvention doesn’t wait for a perfect moment. It begins in the mess, with a decision to try again.

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The Truth I Couldn’t Ignore

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As you might expect, the shame of bedwetting became a breeding ground for self-doubt and zero self-esteem. It seeped into every corner of my life, influencing my decisions in ways I didn’t even know. I’d commit to doing better, take a few steps forward, then stumble back into the same old habits. 

But in the fall of 2021, life handed me a wake-up call I couldn’t ignore. 

Like many, I was hit hard with COVID—and pneumonia on top of it. At first, I didn’t realize how bad it was until my doctor urged me to go straight to the emergency room. 

He didn’t mince words: “You don’t have two days to wait for test results.” My lungs were severely compromised, and, noticing his dire concern, the end was closer than I wanted to admit. 

Thankfully, I pulled through. But the experience left a mark. When I returned to my engineering classes, I was more depressed than I had ever been. 

Every morning, I dreaded getting up, despite now being free of bedwetting! Even though my grades were solid, I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of a life I didn’t want. And if I’m being brutally honest, I was convinced that if I had died in the middle of earning this degree, my life would’ve felt like a complete waste. 

So, what now? I had two choices: stay in the engineering program because I’d already invested so much, or switch paths entirely. Deep down, I already knew my answer. 

I decided to leave engineering. 

I had no clue what would come next, but I couldn’t keep trudging down a path that was draining the life out of me. 

At my mom’s advice, I took a career test. This time, unlike in high school, I approached it with curiosity and just a tiny glimmer of self-confidence. The results came back loud and clear: I belonged in a psychology-related field, helping people work through deep, emotional struggles. 

What a polar opposite to engineering, right? 

Even better, when I shared the results with my family and friends, the response was unanimous: This is you. This has always been you. I don’t know why you were ever in engineering. It was like a lightbulb moment.

Stage 2: Adapt.

Core value: Empathy.

Taking the career test was my first step into the chrysalis of adaptation. It wasn’t easy—letting go of what felt safe never is. But I had to trust that growth could come from vulnerability. I had to remind myself to meet my uncertainty with empathy, not criticism.

Adaptation isn’t about being perfect—it’s about being kind to yourself as you let go of the old and make space for the new.

Soon, you’ll be a butterfly, but to get there, you must let go of the fear of starting over, and the misbelief that it’s too late for you. 

Reinvention can happen at any stage of life; it’s just about willingness.

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The Day I Said Yes To Me

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The real transformation happened when, as a first-born child, I told my Nigerian dad I was leaving engineering. He said, “Why not just finish? You’ve already started, and most people don’t even use their degrees—but at least you’d be able to say you have it!”

And I said, “I just nearly died. I’m not going to waste the next year and a half of my life finishing a degree that’s making me miserable.”

In that moment, I knew. After two decades of waking up covered in shame (and pee), and learning to love my life through it all, I had kept my promise to myself: to create a life I was happy to wake up to—no matter what.

I wasn’t the girl who needed validation anymore. I wasn’t an engineering student with secret dreams of being an entrepreneur. I was an entrepreneur, bold and true. I was a coach. I was a creator. And my first creation? Me.

I became the version of myself I could proudly live and die as.

And that’s when it hit me: Every single one of us is just one identity shift away from the life we’re meant to live.

It wasn’t about changing what I was doing—it was about changing who I believed I could be. When you can’t believe in who you are, believe in who you can become.

The moment I stopped seeing myself as someone stuck in shame, fear, and other people’s expectations—and started stepping into my identity as the creator of my life—everything changed.

This is why I believe so fiercely in the power of self-reinvention. You don’t have to wait for the “right time” or the perfect plan. You can decide who you want to become and take the first step into that identity today.

And when you do? You’ll realize the life you’ve been dreaming of has been waiting for you all along.

Stage 3: Rewrite.

Core value: Grit.

Standing up to my dad and declaring my new path wasn’t just about leaving a degree—it was about leaving behind the version of me who needed others’ validation to feel worthy. That decision took grit.

Grit, more than just pushing through, is staying present and showing up for yourself, even when it’s terrifying. In rewriting my story, I discovered the strength to create my life from scratch and the courage to own it.

Like an eagle, you take a moment to molt your old feathers and grow into your new ones, then take flight—regardless of the storms you may face.

I learned that reinvention requires two things: bold decisions, and brave action, even when the world is telling you to give in.

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A Happy Ending

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The weeks following my big decision weren’t easy—things often feel worse before they get better. But something inside me had shifted. For the first time, I was waking up with a sense of possibility, knowing I was crafting a life that truly mattered to me.

I graduated with a degree in General Studies, a major that didn’t sound as impressive as engineering, but allowed me to explore the topics that lit me up: psychology, family science, marketing, poetry, identity work… It was the first time I felt like I was in charge of my path, not someone else’s expectations.

From there, I took the next steps to begin building my coaching business, experimenting with different ways of sharing my content and helping people rewrite their stories.

Oh, and did I mention? I no longer wet the bed.

Now, I wake up every morning (dry!) with a life that fills me with purpose. I get to guide people as they reinvent themselves, uncover their purpose, and build their dream businesses.

Recently, after just one coaching session and some follow-up encouragement, my first client started making bold moves toward her dream venture. Before that, she had only written about her dreams in her journal—just like I used to do. Watching her step into her own reinvention reminded me why I do this work. It’s not just about building businesses; it’s about helping people become who they’re meant to be.

Stage 4: Execute.

Core value: Mastery.

Reinvention became real when I started taking action every day to live in alignment with my new identity. Like a live oak tree, I shed old habits and beliefs while growing into new ones, staying rooted in my purpose.

This is where mastery comes in—not perfection, but progress. It’s about committing to practices that keep you growing into the person you’re meant to be, one day at a time.

There’s no perfect you; there’s only the you that you choose to be, the you that you’re made to be—the you that you create.

To recap, the four stages are Realize, Adapt, Rewrite, and Execute (RARE), and the four core values are Grace, Grit, Empathy, and Mastery (GGEM).

I call this framework my R.A.R.E. G.G.E.M. Model of Reinvention.

This isn’t just my journey—it’s a process anyone can follow to become the version of themselves who creates the life they’ve dreamed of.

Every single one of us is just one identity shift away from the life we’re meant to live. And that shift starts today—with one decision, one belief, one step.

If you’re ready to take your first step, take my free quiz to find out which stage of reinvention you’re in.

And if you dare to embark on this journey, then you, my dear, are a rare gem in this world.