When was it ever not cool to try?

My 2025 in Review

It’s 5:25 AM, and I’m lying in a half-seated position in my friend’s spare bedroom in Toronto with my laptop, trying to figure out how to write a year review — not because my year was particularly bad, but because I lived so many lives in the last twelve months that it’s hard to remember how I got here.

So I did what any self-respecting zillennial would do. I opened my phone, went to Instagram, and started watching reels — ok, to be specific, I started watching MY reels.

You see, I do this monthly. At the end of every month, I make a reel about how the month went. I’ve been doing this for the last two years, I think. Probably (I’m not sure — you can check my Instagram to find out). What I’ve found is that these reels help me remember moments in the month I tend to forget (…blame it on old age).

Going through those reels, I realized that I’d actually had one of the best years of my life. If I counted my happy days versus my unhappy days, I’d say I had about 300 happy days and 65 unhappy days — which is one of the best ratios I’ve ever had.

January started slowly and full of uncertainty, but I tried to keep my routines. I went to swim classes. I went to boxing sessions. I hung out with my friends. I tried to do the things that brought me joy.

In the early weeks of February, I traveled to celebrate my mom’s birthday. By the end of February, I had received responses to my visa applications, which meant that I was finally going to resume traveling again.

That same month, I finally went to driving school with hopes of getting my license. I did complete driving school, but I never actually got the license (I know you’re expecting a juicy story here, but this was purely a result of procrastination — deeply unsexy, I’m afraid).

Then I did something I’d wanted to do for a long time: I learned how to ride a bike. My goal wasn’t to master it — it was simply to know that I could. I’ve always admired bikers, so I needed to prove to myself, or at least confirm, that I could be one. That I could ride a bike, and one day, own one.

I wish I could tell you it was a walk in the park, but I have no such tales. Learning to ride tested my resolve, my coordination, and my bravado in ways I didn’t expect. While I tried to follow the lessons and meet the expectations of my tutor, some parts of the process never quite agreed with me, which earned me a certain reputation among my classmates, depending on who you asked. But that experience only reinforced something I already believed: not everything needs to be learned the “right” way to be learned at all.

As John Keating says in Dead Poets Society, “We all have a great need for acceptance, but you must trust that your beliefs are unique, your own…” And as they say in the biker community: ride your ride. And I did — to an extent. I suppose the final proof will be when I get my bike in 2026.

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It’s also interesting that in February, I read one of the most profound books that would go on to define my year — and probably the rest of my life. I read 13 books in 2025, and I’m hoping I can finish the 14th before January 1. Out of those 13 books, three were the most defining for me this year. The first one I read was Conversations in Love by Natasha Lunn.

(As I go through this essay, I’ll mention two other books, so let the suspense have you by the balls till the end)

I think everyone should read Conversations in Love, especially if you’re trying to understand how to approach love as an individual, as a society, and as a romantic partner. If you go through my Instagram posts and captions, you’ll see me quoting Natasha a lot — because those words stayed with me and have carried me (Ughhhh! Now I want to reread the book)

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By March, I started saying goodbye to friends as they immigrated to other countries, which is ironic because I became the immigrant friend in December.

During this time, I stumbled on the second book that would go on to rewire my mind: A Mind for Numbers by Barbara Oakley — a woman I absolutely love and find inspiring.

I struggled with math throughout most of my early education and eventually gave up on understanding it or seeing its usefulness beyond calculating my supermarket bill. Reading this book, alongside weeks of academic frustration, led me to make an unexpected choice: to teach myself mathematics.

For the past six months, I’ve tried to solve a math problem almost every day — purely for the fun of it. The more I hit roadblocks, asked questions, and studied, the more math revealed its beauty to me. I began to see it not just as equations and formulas, but as a language, an art form. To me, math is the universe writing its autobiography — in patterns, codes, and precision. I never thought I could love math this much in my lifetime. But now I do, and it’s been one of the most profound learning experiences of my life.

I’ve realized that learning, like everything else, is a muscle. The more you exercise it, the stronger it gets. They say practice makes perfect, but I prefer to say practice makes better — and better starts to look a lot like perfect.

That single act of reading this book made me reimagine my life, my potential, and what might be possible if I applied myself just a little more each day.

In April, I packed my bags and started my extra-long trip through Europe. I think the biggest lesson I learned from traveling for four months — from April to July — was that I didn’t need as much stuff as I thought I did. It prepared me for the eventual nightmare that was condensing my 28 years of life into 106kg worth of Baggage allowance for immigration.

Everything I needed for those 4 months fit into a 20kg backpack. I never thought of myself as a minimalist, but it was a revelatory experience that changed my approach toward acquiring and keeping things.

I spent that time moving around Europe — from France to the Netherlands, to Belgium, to Germany, and then to Austria, where I ended my EU tour with a tattoo. After that, I went to the UK. I visited England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales. Through all of this, I tried to keep up with my routines as much as I could, just to give myself some semblance of normalcy.

I also learned that going forward, it’s better to write things down while I’m experiencing them instead of postponing my thoughts. Memory isn’t reliable. And as much as I’d like to write about my experiences traveling through Europe now, it feels like such a distant memory that it would be inaccurate to describe what was really going on.

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In May, I watched Aurora at a concert in the UK. Usually, I avoid concerts or crowded places, but this was one I couldn’t skip. It was planned into my itinerary even before I left Nigeria. As I watched her perform, I thought, yes — she really is as ethereal as I’ve always imagined her to be. That was probably one of the highlights of my year.

In June, I hit the most miserable point of the trip. I attempted volunteering as a way to save costs while traveling in Northern Ireland. Safe to say, I regretted every minute of that volunteer experience, and I won’t be trying that again.

I learned the hard way that I am not meant for any form of manual labor (let’s just say that if AI ever took over my job, my last resort was working on a farm I am gonna to unsubscribe from living). That experience was so bad, I almost canceled the rest of my trip. Thankfully, sometime in the middle of June, I was able to extract myself from that situation thanks to a friend.

I had another volunteer experience lined up in July, and I somehow convinced myself I’d give it one last chance. I’m glad I didn’t cancel. I got to live out my dream of living in a cabin in the woods and met a really sweet, principled Scottish elder woman, with whom I had the most wonderful stay.

Around this time, I also did something I’d wanted to do for a long time but kept postponing.

I cut my hair.

Yes — I cut my long, luscious, beautiful dreadlocks, and it was another highlight of my year.

What most people don’t know is that before committing fully, I tried to get an undercut. A part of me wants to show you just how baaaad it was, but since the internet never forgets, those pictures will remain locked away in virtual archives (though, who knows — ask nicely and I might show you). I’m glad I tried it, though. Now I know for sure that an undercut is not for me.

I think every woman should get a buzz cut or go bald at least once in her adult life. If not for anything else, then simply for the plot.

Do I regret it? No.

Do I miss my hair? Yes.

Cutting my hair made me realize how much I’d been hiding behind it. I could hide my expressions — my eyes. With hair, I could conceal how I felt; when it was down, I felt invincible. But with a buzz cut, I realized I couldn’t hide anymore.

All my facial features were suddenly visible. Features I didn’t even know I had became more apparent. I don’t spend much time looking at my face, but after cutting my hair, I started to see myself in ways I hadn’t before — and that took some getting used to.

Also, in June, I tried golf for the first time, and I loved it (P.S.: if I ever become rich, this will be the sign).

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Somehow, in the middle of all this, I had to balance my master’s degree program, my job, and some sense of normalcy — despite my nomadic lifestyle. Which reminds me: if I ever attempt another ultra-long nomadic trip, I think I’d like to do it in an RV, maybe with a friend or two. Not because I’ve fallen out with solo travel, but because I suspect it might be a different kind of resonant experience.

Originally, my travel plans were meant to last about six months. I planned to return home in August or September because I wanted to spend my birthday out of the country for the first time — and mostly because I didn’t want to have a party.

Safe to say, the June saga gave me a hard reset. I decided I was having a party when I got back to Nigeria. Okay — maybe not definitely, because I still wasn’t entirely in the mood — but I knew I wanted to be with my people.

I’m really glad I had the birthday party (now lovingly dubbed Keyu’s Annual General Meeting) because hanging out with my friends healed me.

By September, I was on a plane again, this time heading to Mexico. Now that I think about it, I probably spent more time on planes this year than I did on land. Okay, that’s an exaggeration — but you get the point.

My trip to Mexico was one of the best times of my year. Throughout my time in Mexico, I stayed completely off social media. I had time to meditate, recalibrate, and have difficult conversations with myself that I was avoiding. I made new friends, experienced new food and culture, and added another fridge magnet to my collection. I gained a lot of clarity, which informed my second tattoo of the year — and my only tattoo with a name. I call it Wayfinder.

By the end of September, I received a positive response to an application that cemented my immigration plans. A long-term dream was finally coming through. Between October, November, and December, I mostly kept to my routines but then I got three new tattoos — one with Lily as a friendship tattoo and a reminder to keep trying, one as a kudos to myself for finally telling my truth to someone important to me, and the last one was a sibling tattoo with my brothers (Safe to say, I’ve successfully inducted my family into my tattoo habit).

So where do we go from here?

I can’t say I’m a gamer, but I’ve always loved side quests in adventure games — they add depth and texture to the experience. Toward the end of 2025, I started thinking that maybe the key to life — and to feeling good about myself is first stability - a roof over my head, food on my table, and then maxing out on side quests.

Before writing this, I went back and read my year reviews from the last three to four years, as well as some of my “deepest” pieces on Medium. Again, so much had changed.

I stopped fighting myself. I stopped trying to conform to societal and family expectations. I stopped taking myself — and life — so seriously. That doesn’t mean I lost discipline or principles. It just means I stopped trying to force meaning/purpose into everything.

Since I’ve decided that life is a game, I’ll be side-questing to the max.

As much as I advocate for therapy, I’ve realized that what it mostly does for me is create awareness. Awareness isn’t healing, growth, or change — it’s just the first step in a long journey. Change happens when you actually work through things and do something differently.

My therapist recommended the third book that would go on to define my year — Ace by Angela Chen. It helped me come to terms with parts of myself I’d misunderstood, placed unfair expectations on, or judged too harshly. At the same time, it helped me recalibrate my assumptions around romantic connection — many of which had been shaped by my upbringing (I know, I know… so much therapy speak, wtf?!?!).

So, in an effort to actually practice what I’d learned — and to loosen my avoidant tendencies — I went on two dates. For one of them, I didn’t even realize it was a date until halfway through, but that’s beside the point. The point is: I went on a date. I also kissed someone — intentionally — and I didn’t hyperventilate or have a meltdown (so yayyy me!!!). I know it’s just a kiss, but if you know me, you know that any form of physical intimacy is a big deal. So, cheers to making more effort on that front in the new year.

But more than exchanging bodily fluids with other humans, I care deeply about making new friends and building community. I’m in Canada now — in a new country, starting a new life. As I watch the flurries while writing this (I still don’t know why they’re called flurries; everything is snow to me), I realize I hoped for this moment for such a long time. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure how to feel or how to process it. I just know that I’m here.

There’s still so much to do: rent a house, furnish it, get a driver’s license, find a swimming pool, and a martial arts gym. With all of that on my plate, maybe it’s okay that I’m not processing or feeling everything just yet.

Academically, I’m hoping that if I wrote four exams in 2025, I can write eight in 2026. I’ll keep playing around with mathematics and see where that leads.

I think I owe it to myself to live as brightly as possible. To try things despite fear. To act even when I am unsure — as long as I believe I owe it to myself to try. Life doesn’t give us what we deserve; it gives us what we negotiate.

So, when was it ever not cool to try?

Speaking of side quests, did I mention that I started learning French? Oui! Oui! Also, I’ve already decided I’m getting my bike in 2026. To complete the ensemble, I’m considering a bass guitar??!! Do you see the vision? It’s okay if you don’t — as long as I do.

If you are curious to see how it goes, subscribe to my mailing list here on Substack. I recently migrated here, but if you want to read my older content, you can check it out on Medium.