The Day My Hustle Paid My Rent — And Something in Me Shifted

I used to pray for miracle alerts. I still do sometimes. But this story isn’t about a miracle. It’s about the day something finally worked — and the quiet power that came with it.

The first time someone said, ‘How much for 12?’ — I paused. I almost underpriced out of shock.

Favor H.

It started with a ₦10,000 idea. I didn’t even call it a business. Just something to “manage for now.”
I was selling hair accessories — Ankara scrunchies and satin bonnets. Simple stuff. Instagram DMs. Word of mouth. I’d run deliveries with small nylon bags and an anxious heart.

🧾 The Day Rent Was Due, and I Didn’t Panic

I’d been saving scraps. ₦2k here. ₦5k there. The kind of money that disappears if you don’t respect it. But I respected it. And somehow, I got to ₦132,000.

I paid my rent without calling anyone.
No stories. No explaining. No late-night anxiety. Just a transfer, a receipt, and a silent “thank You” that came with tears.

It wasn’t the money that broke me — it was the confidence.

💡 What Changed After That?

I started walking differently. Not arrogantly — just rooted.

I was no longer “just trying.” I was building.
I stopped downplaying my work.
I stopped apologizing for my price.
I stopped asking, “Is this even valid?”

I realized: The hustle isn’t just about survival. Sometimes, it’s your becoming.