Inspirer

  Hello Inspirers   I used to think that friendship was a renewable resource that just sort of... happened. You show up to school, you sit next to someone, you share a snack, and boom—you’re bonded for life. I carried that assumption well into my twenties, believing that the people I loved would always be there, simply because we had history. Then, life happened. I moved to a new city, careers took off, and suddenly, the group chat went silent. I remember sitting in my apartment one Friday night, scrolling through Instagram stories of people I used to talk to daily, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and resentment. Why hadn't they called? Was I the only one who cared? It took me a long time (and a lot of lonely weekends) to realize that the "natural" momentum of friendship stops the moment you leave a shared environment like school or a workplace. The harsh reality hit me: in adulthood, friendship isn't a byproduct of proximity anymore; it is a byproduct of effort. I...

Hello Inspirers   It is the first Sunday of 2026. Can you feel that? That specific, electric hum in the air that only happens right now? The holiday decorations are likely coming down, the "Happy New Year" texts are fading into regular conversation, and the reality of a fresh 365-page book is sitting right in front of you.  January 4th is actually my favorite day of the year because the performative pressure of New Year's Eve is gone. Now, it is just you, your coffee, and the silence of a Sunday morning where everything feels possible.  But here is the hard truth I have learned over years of writing about personal growth: inspiration is a spark, but mindset is the engine. You can have all the inspiration in the world today, but without the right mental architecture, the engine stalls by February. We often treat our minds like storage units—shoving in information, worries, and to-do lists until there is no room to move. But what if we treated our minds like a high-performa...

Hello Inspirers   There is a specific, sinking feeling I think many of us have experienced lately. You’re scrolling through your phone on a quiet Saturday morning, coffee in hand, and you see a photo of an old friend.  You smile, instinctively reaching to double-tap the screen, but then your thumb hovers. You realize you haven’t actually spoken to them in six months. Maybe a year. You vaguely remember they started a new job, or maybe they moved?  The details are fuzzy. You want to reach out, to type a quick “Thinking of you!” but a sudden wave of hesitation stops you.  Is it weird?  Will they think I want something?  Have we drifted too far apart?  You put the phone down, the moment passes, and the distance between you grows just a tiny bit wider. We are living in an era where we are technically more connected than ever, yet statistically, we are lonelier than any generation before us. We have “followers” and “connections” by the thousands, but fewer p...

Hello Inspirers   The first Friday of the year always feels distinct here in Kumasi. The harmattan haze is still hanging in the air, softening the sunlight. Everyone is moving with a renewed sense of purpose and intention. We spend this week obsessing over our gym routines and our financial spreadsheets. We download apps to track our water intake and our screen time. But I have noticed a strange blind spot in our New Year’s planning. We rarely set resolutions for how we treat the people we love. We assume that our relationships are static, self-sustaining entities. We think that once we find "the one" or build a solid friend group, the work is done. But if 2025 taught me anything, it is that relationships are like living organisms. If they are not growing, they are slowly dying. I was sitting with my grandmother yesterday, watching her navigate the bustling market. She has been married for over fifty years, a feat that seems impossible today. I asked her, "Grandma, what ...

Happy Christmas Inspirers  I remember sitting in a coffee shop about five years ago, staring at my phone. I was supposed to meet a friend from college—let’s call him Mark . We had been inseparable in our early twenties. We knew each other’s secrets, our fears, and our embarrassing party stories. But as I sat there waiting for him, I didn't feel excitement. I felt dread. I was physically tired just thinking about the conversation. I knew exactly how it would go. We would reminisce about "the good old days" for twenty minutes. Then, we would struggle to find common ground on our current lives. I would ask about his job, and he would give a vague answer. He wouldn't ask about mine. We would promise to "do this again soon," and we would both know it was a lie. I walked away from that coffee feeling drained, not filled. And I felt an immense amount of guilt. Was I a bad person for not wanting to hang out with an old friend? Was I abandoning my history? It took me...

We need to talk about the elephant in the room. Or rather, the reindeer in the room. It is December 22nd. You are likely days, or maybe just hours, away from walking into a house filled with people who know exactly how to push your buttons. Because they installed them. I was talking to a friend yesterday—let’s call her Sarah—who is a successful thirty-something with a thriving career, a meditation practice, and a generally zen outlook on life. She told me, "I don't know what it is. I can lead a team of fifty people through a crisis at work, but the minute I step into my mother's kitchen and she asks why I chopped the onions 'that way,' I instantly turn into a rebellious fifteen-year-old." Does that sound familiar? If you’re nodding your head, you are not alone. There is actually a psychological term for this phenomenon: regression. It’s that bizarre time-warp sensation where, despite all the personal development work you’ve done, you slip back into old family ...

Hello Inspires  We need to talk about something uncomfortable today. It’s a Saturday, a day usually reserved for social gatherings, brunch dates, and catching up with the crew. But I want you to pause for a second and check in with your gut. When you saw that notification pop up on your phone from that specific friend this morning, what was your immediate physical reaction? Did you smile? Or did your stomach tighten just a little bit? For years, I carried around a friendship that felt like a heavy backpack I couldn’t put down. We had been friends since high school. We knew each other’s parents, our embarrassing prom stories, and our deepest secrets. But every time we hung out in my late twenties, I left feeling exhausted. I felt small. I felt like I had to apologize for my ambition because it made her uncomfortable. I was suffering from the "sunk cost fallacy" of friendship—the idea that because we had invested so much time into the bond, we had to keep investing, even if the...