Esther Ijewere – The weight of becoming whole

You are sitting in a room that has become too small for the woman you are becoming. You can feel the walls pressing against your shoulders, a silent demand to shrink, to quiet the roar in your spirit for the sake of someone else’s comfort. It is the most dangerous contradiction we face: the belief that to be “good” to be a good partner, a good daughter, a good woman, we must remain static. The soul is not a still life; it is a moving train, and when you are in alignment with a purpose higher than yourself, you cannot simply pull the emergency brake because the person next to you is getting dizzy.

In the world of strategic storytelling and psychological truth, we often talk about the weight of a narrative. Esther Ijewere, a woman who has built a legacy on amplifying others through Women of Rubies, knows this weight intimately. She grew up in Nigeria, a society where humanity is often at the core of life, yet truth-telling makes people profoundly uncomfortable. When you speak up against injustice, oppression, or domestic violence, you become a target because you are forcing people to confront a reality, they aren’t ready to change.

This is where the tension begins. You want to heal the world, but your own world is fracturing. Esther recalls the moment her marriage broke, not as a failure, but as a crossroads. She realized that who she was becoming was a challenge to her partner. There is a psychological brutality in that realization: the person who should be your anchor has become the ceiling. You are faced with a choice: stay stuck and die slowly or choose your destiny and risk the turbulence. Esther chose the latter. She chose her transcript from God over the comfort of a partner.

“This old version of me is no longer working.”

We often use soft language to describe this; we call it growing apart. Let’s use charged language instead: it is an extraction. It is the violent act of pulling yourself out of the soil of a relationship that can no longer nourish your roots. A plant cannot grow backward. It either reaches for the sun, or it rots in the shade of what used to be. For Esther, the “Breakaway,” much like the Kelly Clarkson song that serves as her anthem, was about spreading wings to find the sky. It was an affirmation that she was breaking away from grief, from rock bottom, and from the silence that would have kept others in the dark.

Let’s be real about the release” phase. Healing isn’t a spa day, and for anyone who has been on a healing journey, you know it is more like a battlefield. You can sit in therapy for ten years and still be carrying the same baggage if you aren’t willing to confront yourself. Real healing is the moment you look in the mirror and say, “This old version of me is no longer working.” It’s about dropping the baggage without forgetting the journey that made you strong.

When the world sees a powerful African-Caribbean woman, they often see the harvest. They see the awards, the Women of Rubies platform, and the global impact.

They don’t see the pruning season, the days at rock bottom where faith feels less like a comfort and more like a delusional confidence. Esther speaks of a faith that is grounded in meditation and centering God even when nothing seems to be working. It is a confidence that looks like delusion to the outside world but is actually the only thing that makes you worthy in the presence of the divine.

Why do we hesitate to be visible? For many women, especially African-Caribbean and racialized women, visibility feels like a trap. We are taught to be selfless to the point of erasure, but Esther’s daughters see her differently; they see her as a reflection of the path they will follow. Her goal is for them to walk into rooms and, when asked who raised them, simply say, “Google my mother.” That is a legacy of intentional living and empowerment. It is showing them that you can have a voice regardless of your skin color, ethnicity, or social status.

Yet, the higher you climb, the more you have to protect. In an era of digital footprints and performative kindness, the most strategic thing you can do is say “NO!” Esther has learned to say no to the political noise and the trolls that burn out your spirit. She understands that you cannot be everything to everyone without losing yourself in the process. You have to choose your battles wisely, because your energy is the currency of your purpose.

“Google my mother.”

“To the woman reading this who feels the urge to complain about her current season; STOP,” shares Esther. “Complaining is a distraction from the solution. It makes you lose focus and can turn your heart bitter. Instead, ask yourself, ‘What is this season trying to teach me?’ Sometimes the very thing you are complaining about is the blessing someone else is praying for. When you stop complaining and start confronting, you gain clarity. You begin to see that your pain must serve a purpose higher than yourself.”

“Your next step is to recognize that you are the storm. You are a woman of that same indomitable spirit, who shows up at 100% even when the economy is bad, or the world is watching. You are a survivor who has turned her “breakaway” into a bridge for others.”

Women like Esther show us that success is about impact with sustainability. It is about building structures that allow you to grow without burning out. It is about making a wise decision to live intentionally, so that your name is mentioned in rooms you will never enter as the woman who touched a life and shifted a paradigm.

So, look at your reflection. The old you isn’t working anymore. Drop the baggage. The train is moving. Are you going to stay back to make the world comfortable, or like Esther, are you going to reach for the light? Your children, your community, and your destiny are waiting for your answer.