The Sunday Stillness: Learning to Breathe Again After a Chaotic Week in Lagos.

Sunday in Lagos feels like the city is finally tired. Like it’s sitting somewhere with a cold bottle of Malt, saying, “My people, make una rest small.” And somehow, we all obey. The noise drops. The sun loses its bite. Even danfo conductors seem to shout less — maybe their voices are tired too.

This morning, I didn’t set an alarm. I woke up when my body felt like waking. No rushing, no jumping up to beat Lagos traffic or the never-ending hustle. Just quiet.

Sunday services feels like therapy to me. It’s always soul-uplifting, spirit electrifying and heart out-pouring. I was that church girl who could never miss a service.

This evening, I made tea. Not because I was cold — Lagos doesn’t care for that — but because I wanted to hold something warm. I sat by the window and watched the street slowly stretch itself awake. Children still in church clothes, mothers with gele that could win awards, men already walking excitedly to the viewing centers. No pressure. Just Sunday.

Honestly, this week almost swallowed me whole.
From setting up my blog website, to job hunting, to dodging depression and danfo in the same breath — I’ve been tired in a way sleep can’t fix.

And that’s why Sunday feels sacred.
Not because everything is solved. But because I give myself permission to stop fighting.

To pause.
To stretch.
To just breathe.

If you’re reading this, maybe you need a moment too. A pause from all the noise. You don’t need to go to the beach or post Bible verses to prove you’re holy. Sometimes, sitting with yourself quietly is prayer enough.

I’ve decided that every Sunday, I’ll find something small to reset my soul — a nap, a walk, a soft song, or even a cry.
Because Monday will come with its usual wahala. But today, I rest.

How does your Sunday feel?

Let me know in the comments.
Let’s make room for stillness together. 💛