What I Do to Be Involved in the Community…

Few days ago, JP asked this question, What do you do to be involved in the community?

Honestly, what I can say is that I survive. And in this economy, that alone should earn me a medal.

But if you’re asking beyond breathing, eating ramen noodles at 2 AM, and crying over deadlines let me tell you my story.

It’s not as glamorous as showing up in red carpet events or building boreholes in villages (yet),

but I like to think I’m doing my part in this big, chaotic world

one stressed human at a time.

See, I’m currently navigating life as a healthcare professional,

A fancy title that sometimes just means “underpaid therapist,” “emergency listener,” “problem fixer,”

and occasionally “the human sponge for everyone’s worries.”

I care for people.

Like, truly.

I listen. I give.

I cry in private so they don’t have to in public.

I wear a brave face, but trust me, I’ve had my own share of mental health concerns,

(Notice how I didn’t say crisis? Because African children are taught to minimize.)

But concerns? Plenty.

Enough to write a book. Or… a dissertation.

And I did.

Yep. I wrote an entire dissertation about the effectiveness of school-based interventions in managing mental health crisis among secondary school students.

Because let me tell you, these kids are not okay.

Bullying. Racism. Silence.

And guess what? Most of them carry their traumas into adulthood… and we wonder why the world is a mess.

So, I figured why wait to have a big office and a fancy nameplate before I start helping?

I’m already here.

So, I write. I share. I raise awareness to this concern.

I tell truths gently, but boldly.

I create space for others to breathe, talk, cry, and heal.

Sometimes I use big words. Sometimes I just say,

“Hey, I’ve been there too. You’re not crazy. You’re just human.”

And that’s a full-time job.

I believe in psychosocial health,

not just for young people in schools, but for every soul hiding behind “I’m fine.”

I believe in compassion, even when I have none left for myself.

I believe in community — not the one with white picket fences and gossip,

but the one where we hold each other up when the world is crumbling.

I also believe in God.

Yeah, I said it.

Because I know I’m only this strong, this driven, and this healing because grace carried me here.

Every time I thought I was done, He whispered,

“Not yet. There’s more in you.”

So I kept showing up for my community, and for me.

So, what do I do to be involved in the community?

I show up.

I speak up.

I write.

I care.

I heal out loud.

I fight for silent teenagers, tired mothers, broken students, and myself.

I do what I can, with what I have, where I am.

And I pray that it matters.

I know it does.

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