Lagos has a way of entering your bones. The horns of danfo buses, the loud arguments at the bus stop, the generator that never seems to rest, the endless movement of people chasing one thing or another and it all becomes part of you.
For a long time, I thought I could handle it. After all, wasn’t everyone else doing the same?, but that week everything became too much.
My name is Sade and I work as a customer service officer in a busy bank on the Island. The job was good on paper but in reality, it drained me.
Customers shouted at me for things I could not control. My boss believed pressure was the only way to get results and at home, things were not any better.
My younger brother had just dropped out of school and my mother looked at me like I was the one who had to fix everything.
By Thursday of a certain week, I felt like I was carrying a heavy load on my chest. I could not breathe properly because even my sleep was no longer peaceful. I would wake up tired as if I had been running all night.
That Friday evening, after closing late from work, I missed my usual bus so instead of waiting at the crowded bus stop, I decided to walk. I didn’t even know where I was going but I just needed to move.
I walked a certain street I had never noticed before. The noise slowly reduced as I moved farther from the main road. The air even felt different, lighter and calmer.
Then I saw a narrow path, almost hidden between two old buildings. It didn’t look like a place people used often so out of curiosity, I stepped in.
At first, I thought I had made a mistake because the path was too quiet. But something inside me urged me to keep going. After a few steps, the path opened into a small space that felt like a secret the city was hiding.
There was a large almond tree at the center, its branches spreading wide like open arms. Beneath it was a wooden bench, old but still strong. Around it, there were small patches of grass and the ground was covered with dry leaves that made soft sounds under my feet.
There was no cars, no shouting, no generators, it was just silence.
I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then I slowly sat on the bench and d for the first time in a long while, I exhaled.
It was not just the kind of breath you take without thinking. It was deep and heavy, as if I had been holding it for days. My shoulders dropped, my heartbeat slowed. I closed my eyes and listened.
The wind moved gently through the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out. It was not completely silent but it was peaceful, it was the kind of quiet that allows you to hear yourself.
I didn’t even realised when I started crying.
Everything I had been holding inside came out, the frustration, the anger, the fear. I cried like a child not caring who might see me but no one came so the place held my pain without judgment.
That evening, I stayed there until it began to get dark. When I finally stood up to leave I felt lighter, my problems had not disappeared but something inside me had changed. It was as if I had found a small piece of myself that I had lost in the noise of life.
From that day, the place became mine. Whenever the world became too loud, I returned there. Sometimes after work, sometimes on weekends and I will sit on the same bench, under the same tree and allow myself to just be.
One day, I took my journal with me. I had not written anything personal in years but in that quiet space, words came easily. I wrote about my fears, my dreams and even my anger toward my family. It felt strange at first but also liberating.
Another day, I simply sat and watched the sunlight pass through the leaves, forming patterns on the ground. It reminded me that life did not always have to be rushed. Some things could be slow and still be beautiful.
Weeks passed, and I began to notice changes in myself. At work I was calmer. When customers shouted, I no longer took it personally.and I did my best and let go of what I could not control. My boss still pressured us but I learned to protect my peace.
At home, I started having real conversations with my mother instead of avoiding her. I listened more, I spoke honestly that even my brother began to open up about his struggles.
It wasn’t magic because life was still difficult but I was no longer drowning in it.
The place was not just about escaping noise. It was about finding clarity. It was where I remembered who I was beyond my responsibilities and beyond people’s expectations.
Note: All pictures were generated on Meta AI
