I’m Faruk, and this is how I rebuilt my life from the ashes of my own mistakes.
For as long as I can remember, the thrill of a gamble whispered in my ear. The first time I stepped into a Lagos betting house, I won a small sum and felt invincible, like I’d unlocked some secret shortcut to wealth. That rush became my heartbeat: every free moment, every spare naira, I bet. I reassured myself that I was only having fun and that I could stop whenever I wanted. But one day, I lost more than I could afford; my wages, my rent money, and, eventually, my self-respect.
When the bills piled up and my landlord threatened eviction, I borrowed from friends and family. I lied to my wife about where the money was going. I sold precious possessions, and still, I lost it all. The shame suffocated me. Sitting in the dark, I felt a hollow ache, like my mind was on fire and there was nowhere to run. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat; I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. One day, I looked into the mirror and I said to myself, you don’t deserve to keep breathing.
One morning, after a sleepless night turning over regrets, I woke to find my wife’s note: “I can’t watch you destroy yourself anymore. I love you, but I can’t help you if you don’t ask.” Her words broke something inside me. I realized that my addiction had not only stolen my money but had nearly stolen my life and the love of my family. I had a conversation with her and she connected me with the number for MANI’s counselling line and helped me make the call I had been avoiding for months.
MANI referred me to therapy and at my first session, every word felt like lifting a kilo of guilt off my chest. I admitted how I had lied, how I’d lost everything, and how I’d stopped believing I could ever be anything but a failure. My therapist didn’t judge. He listened and then asked, “What do you want to build next?” I stared at him blankly. Build? I felt like there was nothing left to construct.
Over the next months, I attended therapy regularly. Addiction resembles a blueprint for destruction, while recovery is about building new walls, brick by brick, through honesty, accountability, and small, steady steps.
Today, I stand in a tiny workshop I’ve rented, surrounded by circuit boards and soldering irons. My wife and I have moved back into a modest apartment. I earn enough money to pay our bills and gradually save for the future. Most importantly, I wake up each morning with a purpose: to honour the second chance I was given.
Rock Bottom was the harshest place I’ve ever known. But it became the very bedrock of my comeback. Every piece of my broken life, the financial wreckage, the fractured relationships, and the self-loathing, has been transformed into lessons, grit, and a commitment to keep building. If you find yourself in darkness, remember: that sometimes you have to let the old structure crumble completely before you can see where to lay the next brick. I’m Faruk, and I am proof that even after everything falls away, you can rebuild something stronger than before.
