You’re Not Failing. You’re Just Feeling. 

Today, I was sitting in a matatu, sandwiched between a tired-looking mother and a guy who smelled like missed opportunities. You know that kind of smell — regret, sweat, and maybe a little heartbreak. The kind that clings to people who haven’t exhaled in years.

Anyway, I wasn’t feeling too hot myself. There was this heaviness in my chest, like I’d swallowed a rock whole and it was just... sitting there. Not moving. Not leaving.

And my first thought?

"Damn. I must be failing at life."

But here’s the thing. I wasn’t failing.

I was feeling.

Big difference.

You see, we’ve been raised to believe that crying is a red card. That if your voice trembles during a conversation, you’ve already lost the argument. That if you ask for help, you’ve disqualified yourself from the Strong People Olympics.

Let’s be honest — in this Kanairo life, where rent waits for no man and M-PESA balance is a joke with bad timing, showing emotion is almost a sin. It’s seen as luxury. Like taking long naps or being honest in WhatsApp groups.

But what if I told you that maybe — just maybe — feeling lost is a sign that your compass is actually working?

That when things fall apart, it’s not always the end. Sometimes it’s the beginning... of something better. Something honest.

You’re not needy because you want more.

You’re not ungrateful because you refused to settle.

You’re not unstable because you changed your mind.

You’re not weak. You’re a damn earthquake.

Sometimes what looks like breaking down is actually breaking open.

Sometimes you’re not collapsing — you’re cracking open a version of yourself you’ve outgrown.

So don’t panic.

Don’t beat yourself up because you spent an afternoon crying into your tea.

Sometimes the tea needs the salt.

And listen, stop labelling every emotional wobble as failure. You’re not a machine — you’re a living, feeling, bleeding, healing organism. That ache? That confusion? That messy, sappy moment at 2:47AM where you ask the ceiling what’s the point? That’s your soul making renovations.

So if you’re trembling, shaking, second-guessing, or standing in your kitchen staring at the microwave like it owes you answers — don’t call it failure.

Call it growth.

Call it molting.

Call it Nairobi Tuesdays.

But most of all, call it feeling.

And let it be.

Because trust me, no one who feels deeply ever truly fails. They just write better stories.

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