The Not So Nice Birthday Gift I Gave Myself

Today marks the day of my birth. Typically, I approach this day without much preparation, allowing it to unfold in its own unique way. I’ll take a moment to reflect on the past year, perhaps indulge in a small treat as a token of self-appreciation, but I never feel the need to script my day. After all, it’s the day that I entered this world, and that moment occurred 21 years ago… Just kidding! I had no say or foresight in that grand entrance. It certainly wasn’t something I orchestrated; that was all in the hands of a higher power. Thus, I usually entrust this day to God, hoping He’ll guide me through His plan, grant me a deeper understanding, and illuminate the journey of who I’m becoming.

This morning, precisely at 8 a.m., I wrapped up the final episode of *Smoke*, featuring the talented Jurnee Smollett. What a remarkable show. It’s definitely worth a watch. That character? She’s anything but your typical ‘Nice Christian Girl’. After the credits rolled, I slipped into my vibrant neon shorts set, a cheerful choice for the day ahead, and made my way to Fryman’s Canyon in Los Angeles. The trail was serene, with sunlight gently filtering through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. As I ascended, surrounded by the hush of nature, a thought began to stir within me:

What gift am I giving myself today? What am I expecting GOD to do today?

`In that fleeting moment, mid-step, clarity struck me with unwavering certainty. This year, I’m wrapping myself in the transformative gift of shedding the label of the Nice Christian Girl. No longer will I mask my true feelings with a façade of false contentment. No more will I wear a smile while my heart is fractured, bleeding silently beneath the surface. I refuse to cling to the remnants of what no longer serves me, for a vibrant new chapter beckons me toward something far more fulfilling. I will no longer keep an open door for toxic individuals who masquerade as friends, their disregard and lack of genuine care evident in their actions. This year, I choose authenticity and strength over empty pleasantries that chain me to the past.

As I strolled along, I reflected on just how dramatically my life has transformed over the past five years. Countless familiar faces and places have faded into mere memories, which did evoke a twinge of sadness. Yet, I’ve reached a stage in my life where I value solitude over the comfort of the known. In the words of Mel Robbins, “You can’t become who you are if you are attached to who you have always been.” And that, my friend, applies to every facet of life. Remaining in the same circle, discussing the same topics, and resisting change will only ensnare you in repetitive patterns. Let’s shatter these cycles.

`What a journey it has been. Yet, a specific sequence of events brought me to this point.

On May 16, 2022, my beloved husband, Sunday, passed away. I entered the room to find him lying on his back, eyes peacefully closed, lips gently parted. He was so still. Just ninety minutes earlier, we had shared a conversation over the phone. Now, his body was beginning to grow cold. I stood frozen in the doorway for a moment before finally stepping forward to touch him. I remember softly asking, How did we end up here? The reality is, the unraveling had begun long before that day.```

One evening, after six years of marriage, we decided to go on a date in Malibu. Sunday chose a glass of red wine, and I was taken aback—he had never partaken in alcohol before. He once shared that he used to drink back in Nigeria, but after a transformative experience with God, he had given it up entirely. That night, a weight settled in my heart. I gently said, “Maybe you shouldn’t.” He dismissed my concern, just as he had brushed aside so many of my suggestions in the past.

That single glass gradually morphed into a bottle each day for the next several years. It transformed into his daily routine, from the instant he rose in the morning to the moment he settled down at night. I exhausted every possibility—praying, fasting, proposing counseling, pleading, sobbing, remaining silent, and fuming. Nothing could loosen the hold of that bottle. So I found myself waiting and waiting for a change that never arrived.`

There came a day when I could bear it no longer. The Nice Christian Girl within me—the one conditioned to persevere, to conceal, to remain silent, to sacrifice herself in the name of love—finally decided to walk away. He pleaded for my return. He yearned for our marriage to revert to what it used to be. He longed for the version of me that would continue to play the role. But my heart was unwilling to return to what we once shared, especially when he showed no intention of changing. He wanted all the benefits of my loyalty, love, time, and heart without lifting a finger to mend what was broken

Isn’t that the snare that countless women find themselves in? We pour out our hearts and souls, holding on to the vision of who we think our partner might turn into, labeling it as a sacrifice for the Lord, when in truth, it’s nothing more than martyrdom to a patriarchal system.

The pressure was almost too much to bear. My heart raced erratically. I was burdened with physical aches that I never let surface. My skin erupted in breakouts. My hair began to thin. My muscles cramped at night, robbing me of peace, while my spirit dimmed day by day. It felt impossible to confide in friends who weren’t married, and with those close to us, I found myself caught between safeguarding my husband’s trust and revealing his hidden struggle with alcohol. All this turmoil stemmed from my misguided belief that being a “good Christian wife” meant sacrificing my own well-being.

And here’s the truth that often goes unspoken: when you finally decide to prioritize yourself, the guilt can be overwhelming. I felt like a monster when I finally reached out for help on his behalf, but his spiritual pride made it impossible for him to voice his suffering to anyone else. For some time, I carried the weight of shame for choosing to leave, even though staying nearly destroyed me. I felt frozen, unfeeling, and cruel, and it didn’t make it any easier when he threatened to end his life if I didn’t come back.

I recall a conversation I had with God regarding my feelings of guilt over the separation. He spoke to me, saying, “Jozanne, you are clinging to a shattered glass riddled with holes. If you refuse to release it, you will continue to bleed.” I quietly responded, “But Lord, I don’t believe in divorce.” He gently replied, “Before you became a wife, you were my daughter.

That truly rattled me. I believe this message resonates with someone. Many of us, particularly women within the church, often don titles as if they’re badges of honor—Wife. Mother. Proverbs 31 woman. Yet, amid our striving, we lose sight of our true selves. We forget that before any label, we were chosen. We were called. We are the bearers of destiny. We don't merely nurture children; we carry within us promises, legacies, nations, blueprints. So, it begs the question: is the person beside you a partner… or an assassin? I understand that marriage can be challenging, but it becomes even more so when our partner is emotionally absent.

`Looking back, some may believe I was the one who walked away from Sunday, but in truth, Sunday departed the moment he chose the bottle. Sunday vanished the instant he disregarded every suggestion I put forth to salvage our marriage. For years, I donned the façade of a happy, compliant Christian woman, earning applause and making others comfortable. Yet that act drained me and ultimately led me away from God’s path. However, this isn’t solely about marriage; it applies to any relationship you’ve invested in. I once heard Pastor Toure Roberts say that your "YES" comes at a high price. Stop offering your "yes" so easily to others; it will always demand something in return.`

This marriage has bestowed upon me a PhD in reserving my yes, my energy, my talents, and my resources solely for those who genuinely recognize and value what I contribute. And as straightforward and deep as this may seem, my former self is always nudging me to return to the comforting role of the Nice Christian Girl. After all, she was liked, but not for my well-being—rather, for how she made others feel.

This birthday marks the end of my performance. I’m choosing to gift myself the freedom to be me, forever. The freedom to embrace my truth and to stop striving for applause and approval. I truly believe that God never intended for me to prioritize niceness over authenticity. He called me to embrace wholeness. And perhaps, just perhaps, that’s the gift waiting for you as well. So let me ask you:

How much longer will you play the role of the Nice Christian Girl? What aspects of yourself have you tucked away behind the smile, the scripture, the performances, and the polite “yes ma’am” to gain acceptance from others?

In my birthday celebration, I’m inviting you to offer that authentic version of yourself the same gift I honored myself with today. The gift of freedom. The world doesn't need another “nice Christian girl” who conceals her truth, silences her voice, or dims her brilliance. What the world craves is you—genuine, radiant, whole, and unashamed. So shed those chains, take a deep breath, and step boldly into the woman God has created you to be. That’s the kind of birthday gift that keeps on giving, not just to you, but to everyone whose lives intertwine with your destiny.