What it's cost me - by Matthew Okibe

<p>People think they know me. Not because I told them anything… but because I smile. And I smile well. So well that nobody ever really stops to ask what’s behind it. Or maybe they do ask… but not long enough to actually listen. Because once you look okay on the outside, people assume you are okay. That’s the first lie the world tells about people like me. I don’t think people understand what it feels like to be constantly trying. Not trying once. Not trying sometimes. But trying every single time — in relationships, in family, in life — and still ending up feeling like you’re the one doing something wrong. Like your effort is invisible. Like your presence is optional. Like your best is… not enough. This didn’t start with relationships. It started at home. I Learned Early That I Had to Figure Things Out Myself Nobody sat me down and said, “You’re on your own.” But life has a way of teaching you things without saying a word. If something needed to be done, I handled it. If there was pressure, I absorbed it. If there was a problem, I found a way around it. And if I struggled… I kept quiet. Because somewhere along the line, I understood something: As a man, you’re expected to sort yourself out. I remember moments that didn’t make sense to me back then… but make sense now. Like how I would need help for something small and hesitate to ask. But someone else could ask for something bigger — and get it without question. My rent wasn’t even that high compared to what I saw around me, but getting support for it always felt like a battle. Meanwhile, I watched my younger sister live in a space that cost more than triple mine… and it was handled. I didn’t hate her for it. But I noticed. And noticing changes you. So I adapted. I stopped asking. I started figuring things out on my own. I started telling myself things like: “It’s not that serious.” “I’ll manage.” “I’ll sort it out somehow.” And I did. But nobody talks about what it costs to always “sort it out.” I Was Struggling… But Still Showing Up for Others Even when I didn’t have enough, I still gave. Even when I was tired, I still showed up. Especially in relationships. I didn’t know how to love halfway. If I cared about you, I gave you everything I could give. My time. My effort. My energy. My money — even when I didn’t have enough of it. There were days I trekked long distances just to get food for someone. Days I skipped my own comfort just to make sure someone else was okay. Days I stayed in places I didn’t belong just so someone wouldn’t feel alone. I wasn’t doing it to impress anyone. To me, it was normal. That was love. Or at least… that’s what I believed love was. But nobody tells you what happens when you’re the only one loving like that. At first, I didn’t see it. Or maybe I saw it… but I ignored it. I made excuses. “She’s just stressed.” “She didn’t mean it like that.” “It will get better.” But it didn’t. The Day Everything Became Clear There wasn’t one big dramatic moment. It was a slow build. Attitude changes. Tone shifts. Less effort. More complaints. Less understanding. Until one day… everything made sense. I was handling an event. Busy. Pressured. People everywhere. But even in the middle of all that, I still thought about her. I still set things aside for her. I still made arrangements. All I asked was simple: “Wait here.” She didn’t. And it wasn’t just that she didn’t wait. It was why. She had somewhere else to be. Someone else to see. And somehow, I was still expected to show up for her. That moment didn’t break me. It woke me up. For the first time, I saw things clearly. I wasn’t being valued. I was being used… when convenient. And the painful truth? I allowed it. Because I never set limits. I never held back. I never stopped giving. After That, Things Didn’t Get Better — They Repeated Different people. Same pattern. One had a boyfriend… but still entertained me. Another claimed things that weren’t true. Another got close… then distant… then cold. Another made me feel needed… until I wasn’t. Every time, I asked myself: “What am I doing wrong?” Because when something keeps happening to you, you start to think it’s your fault. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. Because I knew how I loved. I knew how I showed up. I knew the effort I put in. So why did it always end the same way? Then Came the Experience That Changed Everything Not heartbreak. Not rejection. Not disappointment. Fear. The kind of fear that makes you realize how fragile everything is. It started like a normal day. Just people hanging out. Nothing serious. Then things got messy. Alcohol. Emotions. Confusion. People acting in ways that didn’t make sense. And somehow, I ended up doing what I always do. Helping. Cleaning. Fixing. At 3 a.m., I was cleaning someone else’s vomit. Washing things. Putting things in order. Not because I had to. But because I couldn’t leave it like that. Days later… That same situation turned into something else. Accusations. Serious ones. The kind that can destroy your life. And in that moment, I realized something terrifying: Truth is not always enough. Because if someone says something… And people decide to believe it… What happens to you? I tried to explain. But even I knew how it sounded. Because in situations like that, explanations don’t carry as much weight as accusations. And that’s when it hit me: A man can be innocent… and still be in danger. Not because he did something wrong. But because of how things are perceived. I saw how easily my life could have changed. How easily I could have been dragged into something I didn’t do. How easily everything I’ve been trying to build could have ended. That moment didn’t just scare me. It changed me. I Stepped Back Not because I hated anyone. Not because I became bitter. But because I finally understood. I understood how easily effort can be ignored. How quickly someone can be replaced. How fast situations can turn. How dangerous misunderstandings can become. So I changed. I stopped giving the same way. I stopped trusting the same way. I stopped showing up the same way. Not because I wanted to. But because I had to. And Life Still Didn’t Slow Down The pressure didn’t reduce. If anything, it became more real. Financial responsibilities. Expectations. Survival. There’s something people don’t talk about enough: The pressure of being a man who is still trying to figure things out. You’re expected to have answers. Expected to provide. Expected to be stable. Expected to be strong. Even when you’re not. You don’t always have someone to fall back on. You don’t always have someone checking on you. You don’t always have room to break down. So you keep going. And people see you going… And assume you’re fine. That’s the Part That Hurts the Most Not the struggle. Not the stress. Not even the heartbreak. It’s being misunderstood. It’s explaining yourself and not being heard. It’s giving your best and it being overlooked. It’s being present and still feeling invisible. It’s smiling… and nobody asking why. This Is Bigger Than Me This isn’t just my story. There are people everywhere living like this. Smiling. Functioning. Showing up. And silently struggling. Not just men. Not just women. People. People who give more than they receive. People who carry things nobody sees. People who are strong… not because they want to be… But because they don’t have a choice. What I Learned From All This I learned that effort without boundaries is self-destruction. I learned that not everyone deserves your full version. I learned that being strong doesn’t mean staying silent forever. I learned that understanding matters more than assumptions. And most importantly… I learned that just because you can carry something… Doesn’t mean you should carry it alone. If You’re Reading This Then maybe you understand. Not my exact story. But the feeling. The feeling of trying and it not being enough. The feeling of giving and not being seen. The feeling of being strong for too long. This isn’t about blaming anyone. It’s not about men vs women. It’s not about who is right or wrong. It’s about something deeper. Understanding. Because the truth is… There are people walking around every day… Looking perfectly fine… Smiling… Talking… Laughing… And slowly breaking inside. I was one of them. Maybe I still am. But at least now… I see it. And maybe… That’s where everything begins to change. End."</p>

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