Journal

This week, I found myself carrying emotions I didn’t know I still had. The weight of trying to fix broken pieces of businesses, of relationships, of myself crept in again. I felt the guilt of disappointing people, especially those who believed in me before the world came crashing down. And yet, I also felt moments of light: in my son’s laughter, in the gentle voice of a friend, in the quiet presence of God.

I’m letting go of the need to explain myself to everyone. I’m letting go of trying to be strong all the time. This week, I honour my softness. I honour the silent cries, the prayers whispered in the kitchen, the brave decision to keep dreaming despite public setbacks.

This is my weekly reset. A place where my soul exhales.

I used to think that slowing down meant failure. That rest was only earned after achievement. But over the last year  through public scrutiny, closed doors, and deep soul work I’ve learned that stillness is where God meets me most.

There is power in stepping away from the noise. There’s beauty in making tea in silence, journaling before dawn, praying with cracked lips, and taking long walks without checking your phone. These pauses have become my protection.

I’ve learned that I don’t have to hustle to be worthy. I am not behind. I am simply on God’s timeline. I don’t want to miss the miracles because I was too busy performing.

Rest is holy. The pause is powerful. And right now, it’s exactly where I need to be.

In the midst of building dreams, navigating challenges, and leading with heart life blessed me with its most beautiful gift yet.

On October 5th, 2024, I welcomed my son into the world.

Becoming a mother has reshaped me in ways I never imagined. It has grounded me, softened me, and deepened my purpose not just as a founder, but as a woman entrusted with raising the next generation. This new chapter brings a renewed sense of clarity, compassion, and commitment to everything I do.

Motherhood has made my mission more personal to create, to lead, and to build legacies that empower others, especially women, to rise with strength and grace.

Thank you for being a part of my journey through the highs, the uncertainties, and now, this new beginning filled with hope and love.

Here’s to life’s most meaningful milestones and the beauty they bring.

With all my heart,
Nkechinyere V. Nweze
Founder and CEO, Marvgallup

Rock bottom came quietly. No announcement, no red flags, just a subtle collapse that left me breathless. But what I’ve learned is that sometimes, God allows us to be emptied so He can refill us with something stronger. In the valley, I learned that people will walk away, but His presence never does. I discovered that I am not my mistakes, nor my debt, nor the headlines people create about me.

I found strength in silence, purpose in pain, and beauty in surrender. Every no became redirection. Every delay, divine. I stopped fighting the waves and began learning how to swim in them. The valley didn’t break me, it rebuilt me. And for that, I am grateful.

She is softer now, but stronger. Quieter, but more powerful. Less concerned about proving her worth, more focused on walking in purpose. I am becoming a woman I admire bold enough to speak, yet wise enough to listen. I’ve unlearned the need to always be okay. I’ve embraced rest, boundaries, and peace that doesn’t require validation.

The woman I’m becoming chooses healing over hiding. She forgives herself, celebrates her small wins, and refuses to shrink for anyone. I no longer live to survive. I live to shine, to grow, and to pour into others. I am becoming and that alone is a beautiful thing.

Dear Future Nkechinyere,

I hope this letter finds you at peace not because life is perfect, but because you finally feel safe within yourself. I pray you’ve healed from the chaos of the past few years the betrayals, the financial setbacks, the heartbreak, the rebuilding. I hope you haven’t let shame keep you from walking tall. You survived moments you didn’t think you would, and yet, here you are.

Remember the girl who once sat on the floor, baby in arms, wondering how to breathe through another day? You’ve come so far from there. I hope you haven’t forgotten the fire in your belly the reason you built Marvgallup, the late nights you cried but kept creating, the time you fought defamation and still showed up like a lioness. You owe that version of yourself everything.

Keep making room for grace. Keep mothering yourself. Keep rising. Always.

With love and pride,
Your Becoming Self