Soft Celebrations & Tender Lessons

26 lessons are too many—so here are 3 things I’m taking into this next year of life.

Dear Human,

How does your body feel after existing through the last 5 “business days”? (I really should google the origin of that term.)

Mine feels a little bruised—like I’ve been wrapped in a cloud that’s both heavy and soft. There’s a flu making the rounds and I’m waging war with ginger, basil, rest, and whispered affirmations. My throat is scratchy, my head a bit foggy, but I’m determined not to let it take me down.

I hope you get some rest this weekend. Even warriors need naps.

As I settle into this new age and sip my third cup of tea, I’ve been whispering this to myself:

“Out with the old, in with the new. Sometimes it’s easier said than done, because oh, how I love the old. The new is shiny and unfamiliar, but maybe—just maybe—with time, it will become another version of home.”

🧡Reflection prompt

What’s your go-to flu remedy?

I’m currently sipping on:

• Basil, lemon, ginger, and turmeric

• Chocolate & chili loose leaf tea (yes, chili—my dad used to make me spicy teas when I was sick)

• Ginger & lemon chai

What makes a birthday feel perfect to you?

For me, it was soft, sweet, and full of unexpected grace.

24 hours before I turned 26, my mum showed up at my little apartment in Barcelona. It wasn’t seamless—her flight was delayed, and instead of taking a taxi, she chose a shuttle with no internet on her phone, so I wasn’t sure how I’d find her. She went offline three times, and each time my heart did a somersault. Finally, she met a kind stranger named Sophie who helped her find the right bus and called me when they were close.

So no, perfect birthdays aren’t perfect—they’re full of missed calls, miracles, and messy arrivals.

We started cooking, but I didn’t have some of the essential Nigerian spices (don’t judge me—I’ve only been here five weeks!). Later, on my way to school, I found them and bought more than enough, or so I thought. That night, I came home at 11pm, and my mum and I stayed up talking till 2am, wrapped in the soft glow of our mother-daughter bubble.

We spoke right into my birthday.

The next day, we cooked like there were ten of us. Now I have enough home-cooked meals for the next two months (don’t worry—they’re frozen). We ended the day with sushi—old friends, new friends, family, and laughter around a table. One of my friends who doesn’t even like sushi found one he enjoyed—call me the sushi evangelist!

I left that dinner with a full belly and a full heart.

And I kept wondering—why did this feel so good? And then I realised: it was small. Intentional. A day curated by love, not noise. My best friend had sent me thoughtful gifts all week. I wasn’t bombarded by 100 messages—just held by the right ones.

It was the perfect birthday for who I am now.

I’ve been 26 for four days, and here’s what I hope for you, wherever you are:

I hope your environment feels like a gift.

I’ve only known my flatmates for three weeks, but they were the reason I didn’t spend my birthday alone. “We’re down for whatever,” they kept saying. When I hesitated to invite them to dinner, they met me with joy.

They even got me a gift.

It was a sketchbook, pencils, and painting supplies—two days earlier I had written in my notes app: buy sketchbook for calligraphy. When I unwrapped their gift, I blinked back tears. It felt like the universe nodding and saying, “Yes. Keep creating.”

We’ve only just met, but somehow—they see me.

I hope you make space for things to go a little south sometimes.

In project management essentials. class, we were taught to plan for risk. Not just prevent it—but set aside resources to correct it. That stayed with me long after the class ended.

I realised I do this poorly in my personal life. When people I love are heading toward a wall, I try to stop them, intervene, prevent the fall. It doesn’t always help. It can cause tension, resistance, even distance.

So now, I want to practice softness in the face of things going wrong. Not rush in, not control—just hold space. Like a gardener tending to bruised petals instead of blaming the wind.

I want my foresight to lead me to kindness, not frustration.

And I hope that for you too.

Lastly, I hope you find the strength to let go when it’s time—because letting go is also self-care.

This week, I had to make some hard decisions. There are things I love deeply that need to sit on the shelf for a while so I can tend to the parts of me still learning to walk. It's hard. The familiar calls out to be kept, but I’m learning to honour my capacity. To let go with grace instead of guilt.

That’s strength too.

🎧 Voice Memo

It was the usual 15-minute break between classes, and I stepped out for a walk. Sometimes, it hits me that I am living a version of my dreams. And when it hits, it takes a minute to settle in.

The settling comes with gratitude. A soft sort of joy. And questions that I don’t always have answers to, like;

How do I make the most of this?

This move to Spain has been a whirlwind. Full of ups, downs, confusion, excitement. But I’m learning to pause and say, “I am somewhere. And it is beautiful.”

🧡 Lyrics

Somewhere could be anywhere.
You just need to stop and stare.
Somewhere could be right where you are.

🎬 Upcoming

I downloaded DaVinci and I’m wearing my editor’s hat this weekend. Prepare to either be sick of me or to cry.

---

Thanks for reading. If this resonated, I’d love it if you forwarded this to someone gentle. Someone who might want to sit in the softness of all this with us.

We’re 48 people strong and it’s been such a joy writing to you each week. I’d love to reach 100 subscribers soon—if you feel moved, please share this letter. That would make me so happy.

Till next week,

With love and lemon tea,
Oibiee