When I moved to North Carolina two years ago, I told myself I wanted that season to soften my routine. My family and I had chosen suburban North Carolina to start fresh. We planned to buy a house and open a new business. Africa was still on our hearts, but at the time we didn’t see ourselves living there. That didn’t stop me, though, from scrolling Airbnb and vacation apps, dreaming about homes across the continent.

During that season, I focused on preparing my business to run without me. I was tired of the constant entrepreneurial pressure. I had help in some areas, but the mental load was mine to carry every single day. I was drained. I needed a shift so I could return to myself. I knew deeply that a happy wife equals a happy family.

Now fast forward to the present moment in Senegal. I feel healed. I feel lighter. I feel softer. I am ready for this next chapter. And yet, the moment I was presented with helpers in the home we are staying in, I completely froze. I went into a quiet depression because I did not know how to accept help from these lovely women. It is their job to care for the home, but I kept saying, “It’s okay, I can do it myself.”

Because I am self-aware, I knew I was spiraling. I went to Threads to see if I was crazy, and the responses were clear. Everyone told me to sit down and let them do their job. That moment forced me to face something I had been avoiding. I needed to soften more.

I realized that I was so used to being the helper, the strong one, the one everyone calls. My husband has been my greatest supporter, my partner who provides and protects without me having to ask, since he came into my life. But outside of my home, I cannot rely on anyone. If I need a break while he is away, no one is coming. If I need financial support, it is only us. That has always been my normal. I am the oldest of seven siblings, and if you are an older sister, you know the responsibility that carries.

So back to my crash moment. I watched these women clean the entire house while my brain short-circuited, trying to figure out what I should be doing. What I really needed to do was rest. I was jet lagged, homeschooling, and still trying to carry weight I no longer needed to carry. I felt guilty watching them do the work, but that guilt came from the conditioning that so many of us women carry. We have been taught that we must do it all.

Now I am unlearning. I am choosing to welcome new customs, new ways of being, new softness into my life. I deserve this.

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