DIVERGENT CORNER

I often tell people that I am a failure in life, but I’ve never quite found the right words to explain what I truly mean. Hopefully, this will.

My productivity falls far off the scale of my abilities. To be clear, I do not have unrealistic expectations of myself and I do not put undue pressure for myself.

I am like an ocean that’s been reduced to droplet output, though not entirely due to fault of mine, but years of blind conditioning, survival, and misdirection. That is why I call myself a failure. Not because I produced nothing, but because I can feel, suddenly, with painful clarity, the distance between my potential and my manifestation.

I have carried within me the mind of a creator, the curiosity of an inventor, the sensitivity of an artist, the adaptability of a survivor, and the hunger of a man built for something beyond himself, yet for most of my life, I existed in status quo, containment, performing far beneath the dimensions of my spirit. The most devastating aspect is me knowing that even the little I have expressed, the fragments people praise so highly, were produced while I was still unconscious of myself.

You see, for an average Jos boy from the trenches, from the lowest the of lowest social class, obtaining a bachelor’s degree should already be considered a monumental achievement. Then going on to travel and work abroad, That should be the pinnacle, if not miraculous, an “answered prayer” as the religious ones would say. In fact, only a very few from my kind of background ever see beyond the boundaries of their place of birth. So when I say I am a failure, people assume I’m being ungrateful for what life has given me, or outrightly being boastful. But regardless of how it sounds to you, I believe something deeply, that only I have the right to define my own standard of success and failure.

In Nietzsche’s idea of self-overcoming, a person must not measure themselves by society’s yardsticks, but by the extent to which they have transcended their own potential. By that standard, external success means very little, and that is where my definition of failure begins. Let me be clear, I am incredibly proud of myself, especially for obtaining my degree. The obstacles I faced, the effort I put in, and more importantly, how education refined my thinking, all of that matters deeply to me. But contrary to popular belief, I do not consider traveling abroad an achievement. As long as I am still doing the same job I was doing in Nigeria. I’ve simply changed location. I could have moved to Cameroon, and it would still be the same transformation.

In Aristotelian terms, growth is movement toward one’s telos, one’s highest potential, one’s fullest expression of being. I believe success should only be measured relative to the potential an individual possesses. We are not all equal in talents, strengths, or capacities. And while our abilities may not be entirely unique, they exist in different intensities within each of us. So the real measure of a person is this, what have you done with what you have been given?

On that basis, I classify myself as a failure, but in my defence, I am only two years old. When I was diagnosed with ADHD/Autism 2 years ago, that moment marked the true beginning of my life. Before then, I was living what Sartre would call “a life of bad fate” mirroring society, conforming to expectations, and suppressing my authentic self. I followed the crowd. I lived by borrowed scripts. I had flashes of brilliance once in a while that significant difference for me, but I attributed them to luck. I assumed everyone had it in them. Deep down, I knew I was capable of more, but I unconsciously limited myself. As we Nigerians often say, “no go do pass yourself”. I was already doing better than many, unconditionally convinced myself I was doing well enough. I assumed since people knew better, that they were navigating life correctly, and that I was exactly where I needed to be.

But something always felt off, I grew to increasingly internally question people’s choices. Their behaviour, decisions and motivations perplexed me. And as I grew, I realised something deeply unsettling, the people I once admired were not as wise or capable as I had imagined. That disillusionment was painful. As the saying goes, “don’t meet your heroes.” I saw missed opportunities everywhere, paths they could have taken, growth they ignored. I suddenly realised I have been unconsciously shaped by limited/ inferior thinking. I had to carve my own path. So I turned inwards, that is why don’t take advice anymore, I now reject or vigorously scrutinize popular choices, sometimes even to my own disadvantage, because I no longer trust people’s judgement.

My neurodivergence assessment was the turning point. Suddenly I realised that all those “background thoughts” I had suppressed were in fact my truest self. The abilities I had muted were not ordinary, they were not something everyone possessed. I had mistaken self-suppression for humility, I still regret that. There’s no day that I don’t imagine what my life could have been if I had discovered this sooner. What life could have been If I isolated myself sooner, refined my talents, pursued depth instead of conformity, I could have achieved far more. I could have made a real impact, built wealth, and carved a name for myself

This is where existentialism meets tragedy, the awareness of unrealised potential. Music, for instance. I love hip-hop, I understand the rudiments of good rap poetry and creativity. Sometimes I listen to successful artists and think to myself, hmmmmm even I could do better than that. And then I ask myself: What’s stopping me? Was it lack of opportunity? Fear? Or simply the anaesthetising York of comfort? I never found any answer. Instead, I chose practicality. I told myself it was gratitude to remain a nurse, after all, I know many people that’d do anything to be in my current state so it gives false sense of accomplishment. But deep down, I always knew I was capable of more. There are things I do effortlessly that people praise me for. Yet internally, I remain skeptical. Are they truly impressed, or just being polite?The impostor phenomenon kick in, but in reverse, I don’t feel like a fraud. I feel underutilised.

I’ve often felt my creativity, calmness under pressure, and dexterity could have been better expressed in other fields. I see skills in myself that is perhaps, if life guided me differently, I believe I may have thrived as a surgeon, architect, teacher, writer, artist, or innovator. Nursing has always felt spiritually misaligned with my nature, not inferior, merely incompatible with the deepest dimensions of my mind. I crave creativity, flexibility, novelty, expression. Instead, I found myself inside systems that reward conformity, repetition. So yes, although I have managed to built a decent career, by my own philosophical standard, I am far off where I could have been. And that is why I say I am a failure. But again, in my defence, like I said before, I am only two years old, still have time.

I have always seen growth differently. I still don’t understand people who are obsessed with climbing the career ladder. It is not and should not be about the titles, band 5, Band 6, or Director. That is society’s metric, not mine. Growth, instead, is becoming everything you ou are capable of becoming.

1. Self awareness and self mastery. It is reflected in Understanding yourself, constantly refining your talents and intentionally working to overcome weaknesses,
2. Recognising that a job is only a small fragment of Life, it shouldn’t determine your self-esteem, or expect fulfilment from it, unless, you are actually creating something new.
3. lastly, and perhaps most controversial, this is my list so if you don’t agree with it, make your own, cultivating what I call a healthy amount of delusion. that is, willingness to aim high. To pursue something beyond money or structure. To act with joy, ignoring fear, embarrassment, or public opinion. Having a childlike enthusiasm that unintentionally inspire others naturally, to live by the idea , aim for the moon, if you miss, you’ll at least hit a star.

I recently joined a Toastmaster’s club, My first attempt was anything but a disaster. I saw enough potential within myself to know that mastery was possible, and that alone excites me. I want to become exceptionally articulate for absolutely no reason at all. Or maybe, the joy of transformation myself. I want to witness the evolution of a man who once hesitated becoming someone who can stand before strangers and command thought with clarity, confidence, and emotional precision. To many people, this may seem excessive, a man investing enormous energy into skills he may never professionally monetize. But that is precisely the difference between survival and growth. I am interested in expansion in sharpening every hidden edge of myself until even my ordinary interactions carry the weight of deliberate refinement.

I recently likened myself to GOT’s Arya Stark training to be a faceless girl in Bravos. Blinded, trained to fight without sight, against an accomplished, albeit mean trainer. When her vision returned, she was unstoppable. That is how I see myself. Now that the blindfold is off, I have an edge. So instead of self-pity, I close my eyes, metaphorically, to distractions, and focus inward. And when I look back at everything I achieved while “blind,” it almost feels superhuman. That is why, sometimes, I refer to myself as a “god.”Not in a religious sense, but in the philosophical sense of recognising my potential for the extraordinary. Like Nietzsche’s Übermensch, a person who transcends limitations and creates their own values. So yes, by my standard, I am a failure.But I am also just getting started.And this time, I am fully awake too.