The Not So Nice Birthday Gift I Gave Myself

Today is my birthday. Normally, I don’t do much planning. I let the day play out however it wants to unfold. I’ll reflect a little, maybe treat myself to something small, but I never try to script it. It’s the day I was born and on that day, 21 years ago…jut kidding, I had no part or plan coming into the world. It was not my idea, but God saw it fit. So normally I let God plan the day for me. Show me His plan, give me insight and reveal more of who I am becoming.

This morning, at 8am, I finished watching the last episode of Smoke starring Jurnee Smollet which was a fantastic show by the way. Check it out. That character definitely is not a ‘Nice Christian Girl’. Then I got dressed in a colorful neon shorts set and hiked Fryman’s Canyon in Los Angeles. The trail was quiet, the sun just breaking through the trees, and somewhere between the climb and the silence, a question rose in me:

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

And right there, mid-step, I knew the answer. This year, I’m giving myself the gift of no longer being the Nice Christian Girl. No more pretending I’m okay when I’m not. No more smiling while I’m bleeding inside.
No more clinging to what’s dying when the new is calling me into something better. No more leaving space open to toxic, dishonorable and unloving people who call me friend but really don’t care because their actions shows it.

As I walked, I thought about how much my life has changed in the last five years. So many familiar faces and spaces are now just a memory, which did make me a little sad. But I have come to a point in my life where I prefer to be alone rather than be around the familiar just to feel comfortable. 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 has to do with every aspect of life. The same circle, talking about the same things and unwilling to change will keep you trap in cycles. Let’s break these cycles.

How much I have changed. But a certain chain of events led me here.

On May 16, 2022, my husband, Sunday, transitioned. I walked into the room and saw him lying on his back, eyes closed, lips slightly open. He was so still. Ninety minutes earlier, we had spoken on the phone. Now, his body was cooling. I froze in the doorway before finally walking over and touching him. And I remember whispering, How did we get here? The truth is, the unraveling started years before.

One evening, after six years of marriage, we went on a date in Malibu. Sunday ordered a glass of red wine. I was surprised because I’d never seen him drink. He told me once that he used to drink back in Nigeria, but after an encounter with God, he had stopped completely. That day, my spirit felt heavy. I said softly, “Maybe you shouldn’t.” He brushed it off, like he had brushed off so many of my suggestions before.

That glass eventually became a bottle a day for next few years. It became his daily ritual from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to bed. I tried everything. Prayer. Fasting. Suggesting counseling. Begging. Crying. Silence. Anger. Nothing touched the grip of that bottle. So I waited and waited for a change that never came.

Until one day, I couldn’t anymore. The Nice Christian Girl in me, the one trained to endure, to cover, to stay silent, to sacrifice herself in the name of love, finally packed her bags and left. He begged me to come back. Begged for our marriage to be what it once was. Begged for the version of me who would keep playing the role. But my heart couldn’t go back to once what we had, especially when he was unwilling to change. He wanted the benefit of my loyalty, love, time and heart without moving an inch to restore it.

And isn’t that the trap so many women fall into? We give and give, clinging to the hope of who we believe our spouse could become, calling it sacrifice unto the Lord but really, it’s martyrdom unto patriarchy.

The stress nearly broke me. My heart skipped beats. My body carried pain I never released. My skin broke out. My hair was falling out. My muscles spasmed at night while I slept and slowly my spirit withered. It was difficult sharing with friends who were not married and for the ones who’re close to us, I was torn between keeping my husband’s trust or sharing now his secret that he was an alcoholic. All because I thought being a “good Christian wife” meant burying myself alive.

And here’s the part no one tells us: when you finally choose yourself, the guilt is thick. I felt like a villain when I finally shared to get him the help, but spiritual pride would not allow him to share his pain with others. I carried shame for a while for making the choice to leave, even though staying almost killed me. I felt cold, unloving and harsh and it didn’t help when he threatened to kill himself  if I didn’t return.

I remember talking to God about my guilt in separating. And God said to me,
“Jozanne, you are holding onto a cracked glass with holes. If you don’t let go, you will keep bleeding.” I whispered back, “But Lord, I don’t believe in divorce. ”And He replied, “Before you were a wife, you were my daughter.”

That shook me. This word is for someone I’m sure of it.  Because so many of us, especially women in the church wear titles like badges of honor. Wife. Mother. Proverbs 31 woman. But somewhere in the performance, we forget who we are. We forget that before any title, we were chosen. Called. Carriers of destiny. We don’t just carry children, we carry promises, legacies, nations, blueprints. So the question becomes: is the person in your life a partner… or an assassin? I know marriage can be difficult but even more difficult when our partner is checked out.

In retrospect, some might think I left Sunday but Sunday left when he chose the bottle. Sunday left when he  ignored everything I suggested to make our marriage work. For many years I pretended to be happy and play the Nice Christian Girl and many people applauded her. She made people comfortable. But her performance left her tired and ultimately out of God’s will. But honestly, this is not just about marriage. It’s any relationship you have invested in. I once heard Pastor Toure Roberts said, your, YES, is expensive. Stop giving your yes so freely to people. It will always cost you something.

That marriage have given me a Phd in reserving my yes, my energy, my gifts and resources only for those who can truly appreciate the value I bring. And as easy and profound this sound, my old self is aways tapping me on the shoulder to go back to the comfort of the Nice Christian Girl because baby she was liked, but never for my good, but mostly for how she made others feel.

This birthday, I’ve fully decided the performance is over. I’m giving myself the gift of freedom from her forever. The freedom of truth. Of no longer trying to be nice for applause, and approval. Because I don’t believe God ever called me to be nice. He called me to be whole. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the gift waiting for you too. So let me leave you with this:

How are you still performing as the Nice Christian Girl? What parts of yourself have you hidden behind the smile, the scripture, the performance, the “yes ma’am” of religion, just so others would accept you?

In my birthday celebration, I’m inviting you to give her, the real you, the same gift I gave myself today. The gift of freedom. Because the world doesn’t need another “nice Christian girl” hiding her truth, swallowing her voice, or dimming her light. The world needs you raw, radiant, whole, and unashamed. So unwrap the chains, breathe deep, and step boldly into the woman God designed you to be. That’s the kind of birthday gift that keeps giving, not just to you, but to everyone connected to your destiny.