By Esther Ijewere

Turning 41 feels like both a milestone and a mirror. A mirror that reflects not just the woman I’ve become but also the scars I once tried to ignore, the silent battles, the overlooked signs, and the emotional weight that often hides behind curated smiles and camera-ready moments.

As I celebrate another year of life and reflect during Mental Health Awareness Month, I feel compelled to share a moment that cracked me open. A moment that redefined how I see myself, the media world I’ve worked so hard to thrive in, and the society that is often quick to judge but slow to understand.

A while ago, an article I wrote; deeply personal, honest, and born from lived experience, was stolen. Not subtly. Not in passing. Copied, pasted, and published by someone else without credit. I did what anyone with a sense of dignity would do: I called it out publicly. I asked, respectfully, to be credited. What happened next wasn’t an apology, it was an attack. In full view of my audience, this individual came into my comment section and challenged me. Boldly. Aggressively. Publicly.

It was humiliating.

Not because I lacked the words to defend myself. I’ve spent my life mastering words, but because the world watched and many chose silence. Some even sided with the louder voice. That moment stripped something in me. This is not just the sting of intellectual theft but also the deeper realization of how society responds to women who dare to speak up, especially women in the media.

For years, media has been my weapon and my shield. It gave me a platform. A voice. The chance to tell stories and uplift others. But that day, it also turned into a magnifying glass—exposing my pain, my vulnerability, and, perhaps, my naivety in expecting integrity in a space where virality often trumps values.

That experience forced me to confront something deeper: the performance of strength. I had become so used to pushing through, being “the strong one,” the go-to woman for empowerment, that I stopped checking in with myself.

Society doesn’t make this easy. We applaud resilience, but mock vulnerability. We cheer for strong women until they show emotion, then we call them dramatic, sensitive, or “too much.” We preach mental health awareness but shame those who pause to protect their peace.

What happened to me was more than plagiarism, it was a public lesson in grace. Grace for myself, first. To admit that I was hurt. To allow myself space to feel, to cry, to heal. And grace for others, even when they fail to meet basic decency. That grace doesn’t excuse wrongdoing, it just frees me from the bitterness.

At 41, I am choosing softness over survival. Presence over perfection. Boundaries over burnout. I am unlearning the lie that I must always be “on,” always agreeable, always polished.

To anyone reading this, especially women in the public eye or those working in media: You are allowed to protect your work and your wellness. You are allowed to be angry, to speak up, to walk away. Your worth is not tied to public opinion or Instagram likes. Healing is not a performance. It is personal.

As we mark Mental Health Awareness Month, may we commit to building a society that does not just talk about mental health, but honors it. With compassion. With boundaries. With grace.

And to the woman I was before that public humiliation. I see you. I forgive you. I thank you. You brought me here.

Esther Ijewere, a media strategist, wrote in from Toronto, Canada.

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