I love this room.
This little room I’ve built.
It’s taken me years to build this space. To build a life that makes sense to me. Not one that works for everyone else or meets everyone else’s expectations. Not one that looks impressive on LinkedIn or shiny for the Gram, but one that works for me. A life that, for the most part, feels peaceful when I wake up in the morning. Because I’ve spent most of my adult life doing something we aren’t always allowed to do freely: making my own decisions.
From work, to relationships, to when or whether to marry, have children, go back to school, rest or pivot, I have chosen for myself. And choosing yourself, in a culture built on timelines and silent expectations, is not as easy as it sounds.
There was always a script.
Go to school, get the grades. Done? Great. Now, get more.
Land a job. Be grateful.
Get married, preferably “on time.”
Have a child.
Now give that child a sibling.
Had a daughter? Have a son.
Balance it all.
Be ambitious but submissive.
Be successful but humble.
And smile through it all.
I knew the script. I saw women I admired live by it. Some did so happily. Others…not so much. And for a while, I followed it too. Until something in me started to ask, “Who am I? Whose life is this?”
The first bold choice I made was with work. On more than one occasion, I have walked away from something safe to chase something that that felt more like me. People were kind but confused. “You’re really leaving that job?” “Are you sure this is the right time?” I wasn’t sure. But I did it anyway.
Then came other choices. More personal ones. Choosing to ignore the pressure around marriage timelines. Choosing not to rush motherhood just because age was being whispered into every conversation. Choosing to pivot careers again and again when people thought I should be ‘settled.’ Choosing to say yes to work-life balance as a practice. Choosing joy. Rest. Boundaries. Balance.
This was never about rebellion. There are traditions I love and hold dear. I will always geek out over Ojude Oba photos. I take pride in cooking Nigerian food exactly how I like it. Our music, our arts, our fashion – honestly, we are the assignment. I giggle at MetGala looks because I know we are not anybody’s mate. I am Nigerian through and through.
I’ve also grown into roles I once resisted. I am now ‘Big Mummy’ to dozens of children and I love the way we celebrate life and mourn its passing. I love the way we love, and how that love often looks different from what the West expects. I see tenderness in unexpected places: in hardworking fathers who, despite their tough exteriors, show up softly to their wives, their children, even strangers in need. There’s so much to admire here. And in this room I’ve built, I paint the walls in vibrant colours that reflect who I am and where I’m from.
This is the part people often miss: writing your own story doesn’t mean tearing everything down. It means choosing what fits. Saying yes when you mean it. Saying no without apology. It means knowing which parts of tradition to carry, and which parts to leave behind.
Did everyone understand? No. I lost some connections. I had the awkward conversations. The raised eyebrows. The backhanded comments. I’ve been told I’m too picky, too ambitious, too slow. But over time, I started hearing something new:
“You seem lighter.”
“You look happy.”
“There’s something different about you.”
That “something” is peace.
This room I built is full of decisions that look like me. Some that scared me. Others that saved me. It’s got laughter, courage, softness, boundaries and healing, as well as a few things I never thought I could have. I’m not done. There’s still decorating to do. But I’m not lost in someone else’s story anymore. I’m here.
It’s not a fancy room. It’s not even finished. But it’s mine.
And finally, finally! It has me in it.
And maybe this isn’t just about me.
Maybe it’s also about you.
What would your life look like if you gave yourself permission to choose? Really choose. Without fear. Without performance. Without needing to please everyone.
You don’t need to explain your choices for them to be valid. You don’t need to follow the script if it doesn’t fit. And you definitely don’t need to apologise for living a life that looks like you.
Start small.
Rearrange something that no longer fits.
Say yes to something you’ve been quietly longing for.
Say no to what drains you.
Walk away. Try again. Come back home to yourself.
Because at the end of the day, the only person who has to live in that room is you.
So build it. And make sure you like it.
Rachel Onamusi is the CEO of VN Sync, a UK-based tech company and full-service marketing firm with expertise in all aspects of media and a strong focus on digital strategy development and implementation. Dedicated to creating lasting impact, Onamusi is a sought-after speaker, thought leader, writer and frequent media contributor.
