Dear God,

I want to report my mentor. Yes, I said what I said—report him! (And I know he’ll read this, which makes it even juicier.)

You see, my mentor is that one person I run to when life and work get tangled like dreadlocks on my head. He’s always had this way of detangling the complexities with a quiet voice and a sharp mind. But this particular day, I walked into his office with questions and left with more questions. He practically confused my confusion.

I wasn’t alone in his office. Another lady was already there. She had a sad elegance that drew you. You could tell she would be comfortable in a boardroom, confident, well-spoken, and humble (The type of humility you carry like a religious cross). But her eyes? Ah. They were tired. Tired the way a woman’s eyes get when the storm in her house refuses to let her sleep. She had this shell-like demeanour, like her heart had left her body.

Her issue wasn’t about P&L like mine. No, hers was the matter of the heart—the kind that leaves bruises you can’t see. Her husband was cheating. Classic, right? And not just the “oops-I-made-a-mistake” kind. No. This was a full-blown affair—emotional, physical, spiritual, probably with secret weekends included. She was torn between leaving the marriage and staying. You know how you juggle the decision on the basis of years of marriage, children, what-we-built-together, and family ties, all interwoven like African fabric.

Now, (in my mind) this was my mentor’s time to shine. I expected him (after the lady finished her sad story) to lean in with his usual dose of wisdom, maybe sprinkle in some scriptures and corporate analogies. But the man—this my mentor—cleared his throat and launched into a story about a laptop bag. (A laptop bag, Dad).

“I bought this laptop bag four years ago,” he began, drumming his fingers gently like he was about to release a proverb that would shake the continent. “By the way, it’s an HP laptop bag”, he smiled and winked at me.

I blinked. The woman blinked. We both tried to hide our confusion. (What has laptop bag got to do with the issue on the table…. Hiaan)

“It was strong, sturdy, and reliable,” he continued, eyes sparkling like he was sharing a trade secret. “Never failed me, even in the rain. But one day, scrolling through Instagram, I saw another bag. Sleek. Classy. Stylish. Not as durable, not even branded, but it made my heartbeat fast.”

He leaned back, grinning like a boy who’d gotten away with mischief.

“So, I bought the new bag. Couldn’t resist. But you know what? I never threw the old one away. I still use it when I need something I can count on. It’s reliable. Durable. The new one? It’s fragile. For show. I use it for events and meetings. But when I’m travelling or going somewhere important? I take the old bag.”

He paused and looked directly at the lady. Then me.

“Now, this story is unrelated,” he said, raising a brow with a mischievous smile. “But what I’m trying to convey is that the human mind is complex and calculative. It engages in a whole lot of calculations even for things as small and simple as a bag”. “So, when it comes to maintaining or ending relationships, it doubles its calculations, irrespective of the answers, whether right or wrong”. “So, the question is—Why would you want to stay with a husband who has a mistress? What calculations has your mind gone through? And why would you want to leave your husband because he has a mistress? What calculations has your mind gone through?

I stared at him. (With my mouth open. I didn’t even pretend I wasn’t shocked)

He leaned forward. Who are you in the bigger picture? He said meaningfully, looking intently at the lady. The durable, reliable old bag or the stylish, fragile new one? And more importantly, who do you want to be?”

And with that, the man stood up and walked to the restroom like he hadn’t just dropped a proverbial bomb on us.

I turned to the woman, who was still frozen, eyes brimming with unshed tears. We both sat in silence, letting the story hang like smoke in the air. Because what he said, while wild and borderline annoying, was true.

Some men (and dad, I’m not generalizing—just some), when given the choice, will buy a new “bag” not because the old one failed, but because the new one looked better in pictures. And often, they keep both. One for the ‘gram. One for the grind.

I sat there and questions were buzzing like a beehive inside my head:

Am I staying in something because I think I’m the “durable” choice? Do I believe that time-served equals value-received? Do I feel like I’m being used only when convenient or when things fall apart elsewhere? Have I been conditioned to accept less in the name of “being the bigger person”? Do I define my worth by my loyalty, even when that loyalty is abused?

Dad, I will not lie to you, my head sparked. The way my mentor relayed that story brought out a very deeper meaning for me. Under normal circumstances, I would have been the 1st to tell the woman to forgive and forget, I would have opted for the old faithful and durable…. but hell No! Neither worked! Neither the Old Faithful, nor the New Fragile!

Let me tell you this, sweet daughters of Eve: Loyalty without boundaries is self-sabotage. You were not created to be someone’s backup plan. If someone needs you only when their glitter-girl breaks a strap, you are not loved, you are used.

Love is not measured by how long you’ve stayed. It’s measured by how safe, valued, and seen you feel. It’s not enough to be “the dependable one” if your heart is quietly bleeding on the inside.

And to the women who think walking away is weakness, hear this from your wise aunty: Sometimes, leaving is the most powerful thing you can do for your future self. Don’t hold on to a lie because the truth feels lonely. You deserve the kind of peace that doesn’t need explanations, not the chaos that leaves you second-guessing your every step.

Because whether in marriage or career, your value is not determined by someone else’s preference—it is revealed by how much you honour yourself.

So, if you find yourself confused like my mentor made us that day, remember this: when someone’s actions force you to question your worth, stop negotiating and start deciding. You can’t control what people do, but you can always control how you respond.

You are not a laptop bag. Even if it is the durable HP bag. (Meanwhile, I own the bragging right on that, Lord)

You are God’s own child, Right, Dad? You are a crown. And crowns belong on heads that know their worth—every single day.

So, make that choice. Choose your value. (choose the one who values you and walk out on the ones that don’t value you).

This is your daughter Lord, proudly checking in.