Soft Edges and Sharp Truths
On becoming, book launch, and learning to treat yourself with care
While thinking about what to write this week, I found myself scrolling through Substack, reading the work of other writers. I do this often, not just out of curiosity, but because I sometimes find my inspiration this way.
In the process, I stumbled upon something refreshing: 31 prompts to write with this week.
It felt like this was the nudge and just the creative spark I needed.
One of the prompts that caught my eye was, “Things you’d like to do when you become rich.”
Funny enough, just a day before, I had said something similar to a friend. I told her the kind of life I want to live online is one where I go completely silent, disappear while I’m building something meaningful, and then resurface only when it’s time to launch.
Now that I think of it, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing these past few months. Quietly stepping away from Instagram, from the noise, and pouring my energy into what matters.
Anyway, that’s not the purpose of this letter today.
Lately, it feels like God has been profoundly working on me. Honestly, I think my angels have been on overtime, because I’ve been growing in ways I didn’t expect. I’ve been learning more about myself, becoming more aware. And in that awareness, I’ve come to a hard truth:
I tend to hurt myself, not physically, but emotionally.
Sometimes, I go searching for truths I know will sting.
It’s like I would rather feel the sharp pain of knowing than sit with the discomfort of not knowing.
I’m still sitting with the answers. But what I know is this: awareness is a gift, even when it’s heavy. Because now that I see it, I can name it. And now that I can name it, I can begin to choose differently.
I think it’s one thing to become aware of how you behave around people, how you speak, how you show up, how you navigate relationships. But it’s another thing entirely to notice how you treat yourself.
To notice the tone you use when you talk to yourself.
To realise how quickly you dismiss your own needs.
To see the ways you shrink, silence, or sabotage yourself, often without even knowing it.
That kind of awareness hits differently.
It’s not as loud or as obvious as the dynamics we have with others, but it’s just as important, maybe even more. Because how I treat myself kind of sets the tone for how others will treat me, too.
So now, I’m learning to treat myself with more care.
To pause before I go digging for answers that will only leave bruises.
To sit in silence without assuming the worst.
To speak to myself like someone I love, not someone I’m constantly trying to fix.
If you’ve been feeling this too, like you’re becoming more aware of yourself in quiet, uncomfortable, necessary ways, I just want to say: you’re not alone. This is part of the becoming.
And speaking of becoming, my book launches today. 🥹📘
It still feels surreal to say that out loud. This book has been part of my quiet season, and now it's finally ready to be introduced to the world.
May we all learn to hold ourselves gently.
May we learn to return to ourselves with kindness.
And may we keep becoming, even when it’s slow, even when it stings.
With love,
DEDA
P.S. If you’d like to check out the book (or celebrate this milestone with me!), you can find it [Get the book here]. Thank you for being part of this journey.
Thank you, Temitope
Thank you, Kevwe❤️