The Day I Realized I wasn't Invisible

It was a Saturday, the kind that felt like it was going nowhere. The heat in Lagos was unbearable, like the sky was angry at us for daring to go outside. My phone kept buzzing, but I didn’t care. I’d already deleted my social media apps the night before — too much drama, too many people pretending they had it all together.
I had always been the quiet one. The one who’d rather blend into the background. I hated attention — mostly because I felt like I didn’t deserve it. In school, I’d fade into the walls, my answers in class barely above a whisper. I was never the loud one, the one who took center stage. I never felt like I had something important to say. So, I didn’t say much at all.
But something happened that Saturday that changed everything. I had to face a truth I wasn’t ready to confront.
I had always been passive — just drifting through life, always afraid to rock the boat, too afraid to speak up. I had a job at a call center in Victoria Island, a job that had me sitting at a desk all day, answering questions about phone plans. Nothing special, nothing worth talking about. But I was comfortable. Safe.
I had this old notebook I kept hidden in my drawer. A journal I never shared with anyone. I’d write down my thoughts — the quiet things I never told anyone. But that day, I opened it and read a few pages. I’d written about a dream I had, something that had stuck with me for years — I wanted to write, but I was too scared. I’d filled pages with dreams of becoming someone who could inspire, speak, teach. But who would listen to me? I was just another face in the crowd.
That’s when I saw it. A post on Facebook. A friend from high school, someone I hadn’t talked to in years, was looking for content writers. She wasn’t even asking for anything big. Just people who could write about their experiences, opinions, and stories. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she said. “Just share what you feel.”
I sat there, staring at the screen. Could I do this? Could I be one of those people who shared their story for the world to see? I wasn’t sure, but a strange feeling started to stir inside me. It wasn’t excitement — it was fear. The kind of fear that holds you back from doing anything meaningful.
For hours, I debated with myself. The thoughts in my head kept circling: “Who am I to write? Who would care about what I have to say?” But then another thought popped in: "What if someone out there needs to hear this?"
So, I opened a blank document.
It wasn’t easy. I stared at the blinking cursor for a solid 20 minutes before I could type my first sentence. I wrote about the struggles I’d faced trying to find my voice. About how I’d spent most of my life feeling invisible, like the world was moving around me, but I wasn’t really part of it.
I wrote with raw honesty. My insecurities, my doubts, my dreams, my failures. And when I finished, I had this feeling of relief — like I had finally let out something that had been suffocating me for years.
I hit "send" without looking back. Then I went back to my regular Saturday: watching TV, scrolling mindlessly through the internet. Hours passed. I didn’t hear anything. But around midnight, my phone buzzed.
“Your article was great. I’m publishing it tomorrow.”
I didn’t know how to react. Someone had read my words and thought they were worth sharing. That’s when I realized something important: I wasn’t invisible anymore.
It wasn’t the big moment of success I had imagined, but it was something more powerful — it was a small victory over my own fear. For the first time, I had used my voice in a way that mattered, in a way that was mine.
The next day, I woke up to a notification. People were commenting on my post. Some had shared it, others said they could relate to my story. It wasn’t viral, and I wasn’t expecting it to be. But the fact that someone else out there saw what I wrote and understood it, made me feel seen.
And from that day on, I kept writing. Small steps. One post at a time. And every time I hit “publish,” I felt like I was taking one more step toward the person I wanted to become — the person who wasn’t afraid to speak up, to be heard.
The Takeaway:
We all have this quiet voice inside us, but sometimes, it takes a push — a small act of courage — to let it out. And when you do, you might find that you’re not as alone as you thought. That’s what I learned that day. You don’t have to be loud to be heard. Sometimes, all you need to do is speak your truth.