Grace (23) moved to Lagos in 2024, full of hope and ambition. Two years later, after struggling with inconsistent income, high rent, and relentless bills, she’s back home, physically drained, financially stretched, and starting all over.
As told to Aisha Bello
The eviction notice landed on December 17, 2025. My landlord had given me exactly one week to pack up my life.
Standing in my room-and-parlour apartment in Berger — the same one I had paid ₦1 million for just a year prior — I realised I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave.
I had ₦500,000 in savings, which wasn’t enough to renew my rent, let alone feed myself. I had spent two years chasing the Lagos Dream, an aspiration centred on achieving rapid personal success, financial prosperity, and social mobility within the city’s relentless hustle culture.
But Lagos chewed me up and spat me out.
Two weeks later, I moved back home to my parents in Ile Ife, Osun State. I was broken, broke, and physically drained
The High Cost of “Making It”
In December 2024, I moved to my apartment in Lagos.
I was fresh off NYSC, desperate to avoid returning to my hometown, and determined to remain part of the city’s energy.
Staying with my extended family, who had housed me for my service year, felt like an impossible option. Service was over, and I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Besides, I wanted the independence of living on my own.
I was a content creator and occasional model, and I believed proximity was everything. If I lived in Lagos, I could make it.
But the math never added up.
My income was a rollercoaster. In good months, I pulled in ₦500,000 from gigs. On average, ₦200,000; in bad months, I earned zero, and I’d have to rely on the previous month’s funds while hustling for the next gig. I was always playing financial catch-up.
The glamour of social media is a lie. While my followers saw polished shoots, I was drowning. By July 2025, the instability forced me to take a full-time role with a local brand. The salary? ₦150,000. It was peanuts, but it was consistent peanuts.
The Berger to Lekki Trap
This income stability came at a brutal price. Living in Berger and working in Lekki is a logistical nightmare.
I had to commute at least three times a week. Between transportation, food on the go, and data, I was burning ₦50,000 a month to show up to work. That left me with ₦100,000 to cover bills, savings, and survival.
I barely spent time in the expensive apartment I was working so hard to pay for. I was always out: on sets, at friends’ houses, or stuck in traffic. The stress of the full-time job also made it impossible to consistently take on other gigs. Occasionally, I’d land one-off gigs, but I was too exhausted to chase the high-paying opportunities that had originally drawn me to the city.
The Physical Toll
My body kept the score before my bank account did. I stopped eating properly. I became a shadow of myself — leaner, darker, and perpetually exhausted.
I hid my suffering from my parents. They had visited once to pray over my new apartment, but I kept them away after that. I didn’t want them to see me failing.
The facade crumbled in October 2025. My mother came to visit and broke down in tears the moment she saw me.
She begged me to come home.
She said she couldn’t leave me in Lagos in my state.
I stubbornly convinced her to let me stay until my rent expired, secretly hoping for a miracle or a big break that would justify the suffering.
That break never came. The eviction notice did.
Starting Over in Ife
I’ve been in a slump since I moved back home to Ile Ife in January. It’s humbling to be 23, ambitious, and back under your parents’ roof with nothing to show for two years of grinding.
My family has been supportive, though. My parents suggested I start a master’s programme, offering me a soft landing and space to recalibrate. I still take the occasional video editing gig, but I’ve stopped chasing the wind.
I’m currently recovering from the bulldozer that is Lagos. Looking back, I realise the experience didn’t break me, though it left me raw. I learned that ambition is expensive and lonely, but it teaches you resilience. I may be back in my childhood bedroom, but I’m tougher than the girl who left it two years ago.
