Stop Complaining
Author: Okeyade Augustine
Have you ever had a friend who complains? The one who seems to have something they’re dealing with every time; the one who is always having one problem or the other; the one who is always battling one storm or the other; the ones who comes to you with tear-filled eyes again and again, and again.
To be honest, it gets tiring and burdensome. You listen once, twice, and at some point, you start to wonder, “ why always you? Is something always going wrong with you?”
At some point, their complaints get so heavy, it clouds your own peace. It feels like you’re both in the same shit.
But…
If it comes to a life or death situation, would you rather listen or watch them slip away? Maybe you’re the one thread holding them together; maybe your presence — your listening ear — is the last reason they’re still holding on; maybe your “I dey for you,” your “e go soft,” your “God go run am,” your “I’m listening,” is the only thing that appears as the reason to keep pushing.
Yes, it’s draining; it’s tiring and inconvenient. But maybe, just maybe that’s what being human is all about: showing up, even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard.
Now let’s bring closer to home.
To us — Eximius — Second year medical students of the University of Ibadan (at the time of writing this piece). We know how brutal this journey has been, and we’re not ignorant of the fact that it doesn’t get any cozier than this.
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We know how the sleep cycles are broken and circadian rhythms are disrespected; how the weight of expectations crushes the joy we once had for this path. We know what it feels like to doubt ourselves — to stare at pages we no longer understand; to walk into classes already defeated; to compare ourselves to people who seem to be doing better.
But this set — Eximius — isn’t just dealing with medical school. We’re carrying extra. The pressure. The pace. The system. The exhaustion. The incoming influx of CAs. And in the middle of it all, some of us are barely holding it together.
So what do we do?
We stand for each other. We become the ear that listens without judgment; the shoulder that doesn’t shrug away from someone else’s tears; the hand that doesn’t hesitate to hold another’s, even in silence.
Like the sympathetic nervous system under stress, we’re constantly on edge. We know what systemic failure looks like in the body, so why ignore it in each other?
This isn’t just about survival — it’s about solidarity. Because if we don’t hold each other up, who will? So yes, your friend may be complaining again. Someone may be crying again. Someone may be sending “Hey, can we talk?” again. Don’t push them away. You might just be the last piece of light they see before they decide to keep going.
And in this storm called medical school, we are not just future doctors. We are present humans — hurting, hoping, and healing — together.
Let’s carry each other.
Let’s be the strength we all need.
That little help you rendered today is written on a palimpsest — though it seems erased, the traces never disappear.
