35. Not Everyone Can Walk With You
An analogy my pastor once gave during a difficult season has never left me. He explained how, in certain occult practices, people would cut themselves to seal a covenant in blood. To break such a bond was to spill blood — a form of murder. His point was clear: breaking trust is not a minor betrayal; it is a violent act against the very fabric of a relationship.
Last year, I felt this truth firsthand. A childhood friend — someone I had worked with for years, someone I had shown grace to in the hardest of times — turned against me. Out of nowhere, I received a 57-minute audio laced with insults, curses, blackmail, and threats. It didn’t stop with me. It was circulated widely, even to people I had long since cut ties with. I sat there listening, shaken and asking myself: to what end?
It was not the only betrayal. One of our country leaders, after benefiting from the contacts and resources we had built to serve his own society, began scheming against the organization. Episodes like these leave me asking, omo ènìyàn? — human beings? They remind me of a bitter truth: as we age, we will often face more betrayals than loyalties. And this is why people grow lonely with time; they hollow out their circles in self-defense, guarding their hearts.
The truth is harsh: human beings can be frighteningly fleeting. When you graduate from one stage of life, but your peers refuse to graduate in their minds, resentment festers. Some cannot see you beyond the toddler who once played in small pants on the street. Some will treat you only as a crutch, and when they can no longer lean on you, envy replaces gratitude. Resentment becomes anger, anger hardens into hate, and hate can boil over into harm.
History is littered with stories of people undone not by strangers, but by those closest to them. It begins with that creeping feeling — they are stranded, you are thriving. Instead of accepting that life carved different paths, they fixate on ending yours. Success is not a zero-sum game, yet many act as though it is.
Life has taught me a hard lesson, despite my desire to show kindness and keep everyone close: not everyone can walk with you forever. Those who once ran the trenches with you may need to be left behind if they refuse to aspire. Silent exits, laced with grace, are sometimes the only safe path. Or just put them in the broader circle of distant friends, acquaintances, and strangers pipeline. So, it's important to sanitize your circle. Jesus had twelve disciples and another three who accompanied Him to the mountain. My assistant Peace once shared a quote from her pastor that captures it well: people don’t really want what you give them; they want what you have.
Leaving the hood — both literally and figuratively — is an existential fight. Everyone in your circle must be seeking their own growth because if they don't, the relationship will soon end in peril. Yes, they may lean on you for a time or request help in emergencies, but it cannot become a permanent situation. Because when it does, dependence and you seldom fail to be enough, it turns to bitterness, bitterness to betrayal. And when that betrayal comes, you will be shocked at how swiftly words lose their seasoning and become weapons of violence.
This piece is part of a ten-part series for my 40th birthday celebrations. A decade ago, when I turned 30, I wrote 30 essays on WordPress, reflecting on the lessons, struggles, and dreams of that stage of my life. You can still find those reflections here.
