
“Time will make you older. Only courage will make you grow.”
When people hear the word growth, they often think of money, status, or material things. Bigger paychecks. Better cars. Louder lifestyles. But real growth has very little to do with what you can show and everything to do with who you become.
This morning, I was scrolling through WhatsApp statuses and saw a picture of a bottle of vodka and Fayrouz on a table. And it made me pause.
Years ago, that kind of picture would have felt like a flex. Back in school, when being reckless still felt like freedom, when we didn’t yet understand the weight of our choices. But today, with everything life has taught us, I couldn’t help but think—some things are only impressive when you haven’t grown past them.
And that’s when it hit me: a lot of people confuse aging with growing.
Time passes, responsibilities increase, life demands more—but some people remain stuck in old versions of themselves. Same habits. Same mindset. Same excuses. While others quietly evolve, they stay frozen, until adulthood catches up with them and exposes how unprepared they really are.
Growth is uncomfortable. It asks you to outgrow things that once made you feel cool. It forces you to question yourself. To change your circles. To admit that what once felt like freedom may now just be stagnation. It demands honesty, restraint, and self-awareness. A lot of people would rather sit in familiarity—even if it’s messy—than confront the work required to evolve.
That’s why growth has become one of my biggest standards in relationships. I will support your dreams, ask you real questions, walk with you through your becoming—but I cannot stay where there is no movement. But when someone constantly makes excuses to remain stuck, I slowly lose interest.
Comfort is a choice—and so is change.
I’ve been asking myself lately—why should anyone even care to grow?
To me, growth is about building a toolbox for life. It’s about collecting knowledge, experiences, and perspectives you may not need every day—but when life demands them, you’re grateful they’re there.
You don’t open a toolbox daily. You don’t reach for a first aid box unless something hurts. But when the moment comes, you want options. You want tools. You want to know what to do.
This is how I’ve started to see learning.
I’m in a phase of constant consumption—books, podcasts, videos—and sometimes I finish a book and think, I read every page, but did I actually learn anything? It can feel pointless in the moment, like wasted time.
And then days later, I catch myself speaking differently. Thinking differently. Writing more clearly. Offering insight I didn’t realize I had. And I smile to myself because—there it is. I’m pulling from the toolbox. Things settled in even when I thought they didn’t.
That’s when I understood that growth doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it settles quietly and shows up when you least expect it.
Those moments push me to keep learning. To keep reading. To never assume that what I know right now is enough. Because if I can become a better version of Cynthia, why would I settle for less? And what's more? I know there is a version and depth of Cynthia I am yet to even imagine talk more of meet.
David once said to me that if people could see what their successful self looked like, maybe they’d take growth more seriously. Maybe they’d aim a little higher. I believe that and he doesn't know this but that statement nudges me to do better - because wouldnt it be so much fun to see how far I can go?
Potential is easier to nurture when you can imagine what’s possible.
One of the simplest ways to start growing is reading. Not because it’s trendy or intellectual, but because it stretches your thinking beyond your immediate environment.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how much we’ve lost the culture of reading especially in my home country, Nigeria—and how that limits us. We may be book smart or street smart, but being world smart requires curiosity, perspective, and independent thought.
How do you build perspective and opinion when we don’t know enough? And that's why we leave the thinking and decision-making to a small few—and that holds us back more than we realize.
And it doesn’t have to be complicated. It can be about something you enjoy. Something you’re studying. A biography of someone you admire. Start small. Start somewhere.
Read what interests you.
Read what challenges you.
Read what helps you understand yourself or the world better.
Start small. Finish one book. Let it change you quietly.
That, too, is growth. Growth doesn’t have to be loud. It doesn’t need to be posted or performed. It’s quiet. Intentional. And deeply personal.
For me, growth didn’t start with big, dramatic changes. It started quietly. Uncomfortably. With honesty.
It looks like asking yourself hard questions—and sitting with the answers instead of running from them.
It looks like outgrowing habits before they embarrass you.
It looks like choosing discipline over indulgence, even when no one is watching.
Growth begins when you stop romanticizing who you used to be and start taking responsibility for who you’re becoming.
It’s learning when to let go—of people, patterns, and versions of yourself that no longer fit.
It’s surrounding yourself with people who challenge you, not just those who are comfortable with who you were.
It’s allowing your interests to evolve, your goals to shift, and your standards to rise.
Most importantly, growth requires self-awareness. The courage to admit, “This no longer serves me,” and the humility to do something about it.
There is no deadline to becoming better. But there is a cost to staying the same.
This year, more than anything, I’m craving and choosing growth.
Not just financially or professionally—but emotionally, mentally, creatively. In how I love. In how I think. In the small hobbies and choices that quietly shape who I’m becoming.
Because aging will happen whether we like it or not. Growth, however, is a decision.
Till I write you again, ✌🏾.
Obiagu.
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