My Journey Through Pain, Silence, and Healing

It is sad that many of us take our mental health for granted. For a long time, I was one of those people. Two years ago, I started feeling a sharp, disturbing pain on the left side of my shoulder. I did not understand what caused it. I visited the hospital several times, and doctors gave me different medications—one of them was pregabalin—but the pain refused to go away.

I ran several tests, yet nothing explained what was happening to my body. It was frustrating. One day, after another hospital visit, my family doctor asked me to see a psychiatrist. I was shocked and kept wondering, why would I need a psychiatrist? But she explained that sometimes emotional stress can show up as physical pain, and she believed talking to a mental health specialist would help me.

When I finally met the psychiatrist, she asked me questions about my past, my family, my work, and the experiences I was carrying inside me. Talking to her made me feel lighter, like some of the heaviness inside me was finally finding a voice.

But each time I went to the psychiatric ward, I wasn’t happy. I would keep reminding myself that I was not crazy. Inside the ward, I saw several young people dealing with worse conditions. Some could not speak coherently, some shouted for no reason, and others were battling drug addiction and different mental issues. Seeing them opened my eyes. It made me realize that mental health struggles can affect anyone, and suffering in silence only makes it worse.

I also began to see how deeply I had been struggling. I had stopped eating well. I lost interest in my work and things I used to enjoy. My joy disappeared. At a point, I sank so low that I even became suicidal. I remember holding a knife one day, thinking about ending everything. But somehow, I dropped it. I couldn’t do it. That moment honestly scared me.

The doctor wanted to admit me, but I refused. I don’t even like visiting the hospital, talk less of staying in a psychiatric ward. That period was one of the lowest points of my life. I had just gotten a new office for my business, but instead of being excited, the challenges I faced drained me completely.

Eventually, the doctor diagnosed me with Somatic Symptom Disorder—a condition where emotional distress shows up as physical pain. In my case, my mind was crying for help through my body. I started medication, I went for therapy, and slowly, I got better.

But earlier this year, the pain came back. I found myself going to the hospital again and continuing therapy. That was when I fully understood something important:

Most of my battle was inside my mind. My body was only expressing what my heart was hiding.

So many people in Nigeria and across Africa are struggling with things like this, but we don’t talk about it. We swallow our pain. We pretend to be strong. But silence can destroy us. When you bottle up your problems, you start to feel unloved, unsupported, and alone.

What I’ve learned is simple but powerful:

You must love yourself first. You are important. You come first.

Pay attention to your health—your physical body and your mind. You can only be useful to your family, your work, and your world when you are mentally and physically stable.

And please, speak to someone if you need help. Don’t be too busy, too ashamed, or too afraid to take care of your wellbeing. I am alive today because I reached out.