Upgrade yourself so you don’t become a hater.

Aug 01, 2025

I used to think I wasn’t a hater.

I really did.

I’ve always seen myself as the type of friend who’s quick to celebrate others— the “yesss, you go girl!” friend. I believed I was built for other people’s joy. A safe space. A soft place.

But life has a way of exposing you to parts of yourself that are hard to look at — especially when you’re in a season of stillness and everyone else seems to be moving.

It happened gradually. Slowly. Then finally settled in me subtly.

It started when someone I knew — not a close friend, but someone close enough for comparison to feel personal — got the exact opportunity I had been praying for; A housejob placement at Abuja in one of the best centers in the country. It was the kind of place medical students mention with small hope and big dreams. Where the white walls actually stayed white. It had clean, functioning wards that didn’t smell like Diabetic foot ulcer. The consultants didn’t just bark orders but actually mentor you. The call room could easily be mistaken for a deluxe hotel room. There was a decent accommodation provided with running water, working sockets, almost 24/7 electricity and a door you can lock without divine intervention. The workload was tolerable. And the pay? Chef’s kiss. Fat! Better than most.

It was the kind of place you submit your details for with fasting and a plan B. It was the kind you would need a network or ‘connect’ as some would call it. The kind people post prayer requests about. The kind you hear rumors of, then refresh your email over and over, hoping your name will appear like magic.

She got it with ease, almost effortlessly.

And me? I was still refreshing my email, still telling people to “please pray for me.” I was already tired of being at home so i just wanted any center at this point. I was sleeping on MDCN portal.

That’s when I began noticing she was posting excessively. Like a woman on a mission to make sure we knew God didn’t just show up — He overdid it. Her WhatsApp status turned into a daily highlight reel: videos of her driving her boyfriend’s car — a gift, apparently — to and from her new job. She looked so happy. So well-rested. Effortlessly put-together. Edges laid, outfit coordinated, lip gloss glistening like it had a sponsorship deal. You know that kind of soft joy that feels personal? Hers felt public, curated, deliberately seen. And I hated how much it reminded me of what I wished I had.

And somehow, every single photo managed to include her man’s hand or wristwatch or the corner of a dollar bill. Sis was no longer documenting memories — she was submitting evidence of her being the minister of enjoyment. She would post things like “I couldn’t have asked for a better place to be today” almost every single day. Well, I was happy for her. At least, I thought so. I tried to be. I replied her post with fire and heart emojis once or twice. I sent it out of reflex.

But inside, something folded. Something bitter and unkind.

I told myself she was showing off. That she was doing too much.

Not because I didn’t like her — I liked her just fine. But every time I saw her wins, it reminded me of my waiting.

It reminded me that I was stagnant.

That I was broke.

That my dreams were being delayed.

It wasn’t about her. I didn’t want her failure — not at all. I just didn’t want her joy so blaring while mine seemed like it was on mute.

And just when I thought I’d mastered contentment, the universe showed it wasn’t done humbling me. Life—being the talented scriptwriter that it is, unfolded another script..

One day, she posted a screenshot of a credit alert— a huge amount of money, I mean very hugeeeeeee— a seven figure sum, edging closer to the tenth from someone she saved as ‘My Safe Place❤️💎’. The transaction description was: “USMLE journey.”

I didn’t even need to wonder nor investigate further. I knew who it was..

Then she captioned it as:

“God is faithful!! My answered prayer said ‘Just focus on your USMLE prep, I’ve got the rest’🥺💵. My man, my man…something something.”

Those are the parts I actually remember..

I didn’t even open the status fully. I just saw the preview and tapped away. I didn’t roll my eyes. But i just caught myself thinking, “Okay…but why must we know every detail of your life? Especially an exam you haven’t even passed yet. Relax!!.”

After all, she’s not the only person with a boyfriend. Some of us have partners, I guess? But we’re not out here disturbing the timeline.

It felt premature. Like an announcement for a celebration that hadn’t started. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the real issue. The truth? It wasn’t her post. It was my posture. I wasn’t annoyed at her — I was unsettled by me.

This wasn’t even about whether she was overdoing it. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn’t. That’s not the point. The real story was me.

My perception.

The way I immediately interpreted her joy as a form of mockery.

The way I started narrating her happiness through the lens of my insecurity.

Because at the time, nothing in my life was moving.

No job.

No whisper of answered prayers.

No soft life.

No man telling me hi, talkless of buying me fuel, let alone sponsoring a medical licensing exam.

I had nothing but a tired dream and a default bank balance.

So what did i do? I muted her WhatsApp status.

I told myself it was for “my peace of mind,” but the truth is — I couldn’t stand seeing someone else live the life I had been rehearsing in my head.

And that’s how it begins, doesn’t it?

The slow decay.

The bitter lens.

It felt natural. The envy didn’t roar — it hummed.

I kept quiet about it because I thought silence made it harmless. But it didn’t. It just made it grow roots.

You think you’re fine until you catch yourself disliking someone who did absolutely nothing to you — except win.

And then I started noticing it wasn’t just me.

I noticed it in other people. The shift. The bitterness. The sour taste that shows up in people’s voices when they talk about someone who’s doing well.

Well, that story isn’t real. I’m still a student — not hunting for a job yet. But it could have been. That’s the thing, because envy doesn’t always show up in grand, scandalous ways. Sometimes, it slips in quietly. It’s not always obvious and easy to call out. It doesn’t always look like malice or eye rolls or gossip.

Sometimes it’s just…… silence.

Passive withdrawal.

The quiet type.

The one you feel in your mind.

There are people who cannot congratulate you when you’re doing well — but will write you full sermons when you’re not.

And I’ve seen it play out so many times, in so many subtle ways.

You begin by “questioning” people’s choices — not because you’re enlightened, but because you’re not in a position to make those choices. You reduce their life to what makes you feel better about yours.

You’ll hear it in the tone:

“Let them enjoy while it lasts.”
Or “Shebi it’s just car?”

Suddenly, everyone is overdoing.

Everyone’s posting too much.

Everyone abroad is just pretending to be happy. People say things like:

“Don’t mind them, they only look good in pictures.”

“They’re always depressed over there. Cold and depression.”

“I’d rather stay in Nigeria than be lonely in Canada.”

Are you sureeeeeee? You’ve never even left your state.. Please. You don’t even have an international passport. Your only visa is “God when.”

Let those who have actually faced immigration officers be the ones to decide if loneliness abroad is worth it.

You? You haven’t even experienced loneliness in Lekki. You’ve never even entered a plane before.

I’m not cut out for that abroad life. I love Nigeria.

Of course, Nigeria has refused to love you back — but carry on. The country that treats you like a side chick with no prospects? You’re confusing loyalty with Stockholm syndrome. You comfort yourself with delusions. That the people who japa’d aren’t truly happy. But You—Are you happy? You that’s roasting in 38 degrees. You that is swatting mosquitoes and begging NEPA to bring light so you can charge your phone. You that prays for rain but not too much rain so that your street won’t be flooded.

Let’s be clear: I’m not saying japa is the only path to success. Not everyone wants to leave. Not everyone should.

But I’m talking about the people who downplay it just because they can’t do it. The ones who mock relocation plans — not out of principle, but out of pain. Out of lack. They pretend it’s enlightenment, but really, it’s just envy in a wrapper of fake depth.

Because if someone handed them a visa and plane ticket tomorrow, they’d pack with speed.

And that’s the thing about being a hater— it will have you acting like you don’t even want the very things you spend nights praying for.

It’s the same energy behind people who say things like “I could never use an iPhone. What’s even special about it?” — when in reality, they’ve never even held one long enough to check the camera.

Samsung S24 Ultra? Waste of money.

And again — it’s not about the phone. It’s about the heart.

Sometimes, we mock what we can’t access just to survive the ache of not having it.

But it doesn’t heal you.

It hardens you.

It’s so easy to think you’re “keeping it real” when you’re actually projecting.

You call someone’s marriage “rushed” because yours hasn’t come.

You call her man ugly and say she settled. But you? You don't even have a man to settle with.

You say, "Its money she saw, that's why she's dating him. Okay — and if it's really love, then what? Would it sting this much if you weren't broke? You'd date someone for less. You've dated someone for much less. When you see your own money, you can reject it too. When a rich person tells you "I like you," then maybe we'll test your values. Until then, let's allow everybody to make their own choices in peace.

Sure, not every comment is rooted in envy.

There is a line between jealousy and true criticism - but it's thinner than most people like to admit.

True criticism comes from a place of clarity. It questions choices, patterns, systems - not just the people who seem to be winning. It isn't reactive. It doesn't come coated in sarcasm or bitterness. It doesn't need someone to fail before it feels valid.

But jealousy? Jealousy waits for good news just so it can find fault with it. It sounds like concern, but it's discomfort dressed in wisdom. It points fingers not because something is wrong, but because you're not the one being congratulated.

The difference is motive.

One wants better.

The other wants to feel better.

So before you call it "just my opinion," ask yourself, ‘would i still feel this way if it were me?’

Being a hater isn’t always in the way we think of it.It's not wide-eyed jealousy or teeth-gritting bitterness. It may be quieter than that.

It’s the subtle habit of explaining away other people’s progress just so you don’t have to confront your own limitations.

It’s the casual mockery that sounds like opinion, but is actually self-preservation.

Nobody admits it, but we’ve all done it.

Me too.

There was a time I couldn’t afford certain things. And so, I convinced myself I didn’t like them.

Designer perfumes were “wasteful” to me.

Candle-lit dinners were “overrated.”

Soft life, to me, looked like people being unserious with money and irresponsible with time.

But deep down? I wasn’t being honest.

I was just broke.

Being a hater wears many disguises.

Sometimes it dresses up as logic.

Other times, it sounds like ‘harmless’ honesty.

It says things like:

“If it’s really sweet, you won’t be announcing it every day. Real enjoyment is quiet.”
“I’m happy for her o, but let’s be honest… you never know what goes on behind closed doors.”
“All that glitters isn’t gold. Sometimes it’s Snapchat filter.”
“She’s posting love today. I hope this one leads to marriage”
“As for me, I just want peace. Not every blessing is from God.”

It pretends to be discerning. Wise.

But sometimes, it’s bitterness masking itself as maturity. We think we’re above the hype. But really, we’re under it — crushed by the weight of our own inaction, peeking at the life we want and calling it foolish because it’s easier than admitting it’s out of reach for now.

And maybe it is.

Maybe your bank account can’t match your taste — yet. But don’t become a philosopher of bitterness.

There’s a fine line between contentment and denial.

Know which side of the fence you’re standing on.

The worst part?

You start labeling people “proud” who aren’t actually proud.

You see confidence and call it showing off.

You see people sharing joy and call it vanity.

You start telling stories in your head:

“She’s changed,” “He doesn’t even check on people again,” “They think they’ve arrived.”

But most times, they haven’t changed.

You’ve just become more sensitive to their light because you’re sitting in a shadow.

It’s painful, I know. But pretending not to care doesn’t heal you.

It only makes you bitter and behind.

There’s even another committee. The ones who gather in group chats and quiet corners to dissect another woman’s beauty like it’s a project. I call them BDA(Beauty disclaimer association).

“She’s not even fine like that”
“It’s just her complexion.
“It’s just her height.”
“It’s just her body jare — take away the shape and what’s left?”

But you don’t have the complexion.

You don’t have the height.

You don’t have the body.

And rather than sit in that truth and maybe let it sting you into growth or acceptance, you reduce her.

Same thing with men.

“It’s just his money.”

But is it your money?

They say it like wealth is an inherited sin or like being financially stable suddenly makes you unworthy of love or admiration.

No, it’s not just his money — it’s your inability to sit with the fact that someone else has what you want, and it’s showing.

Do you know what this tells me?

That you’ve stopped seeing your own life as something worth building.

So now, you spend your time tearing others down.

I wrote this because I’ve seen too many good people rot in resentment they disguised as wisdom. People who had real potential, but instead of sharpening their skills, they sat around and threw shade.

Instead of upgrading themselves, they downloaded cynicism.

Instead of confronting their fears, they started policing other people’s joy.

Sometimes, hate is just love that never grew up.

Sometimes it just shows up in how you speak.

You’re always the first to downplay someone else’s win.

Before you criticize someone’s life, make sure it’s not just the life you wish you had.

Before you roll your eyes at someone’s joy, ask yourself if you’ve truly made peace with your own pain.

This isn’t a motivational speech. But I’m begging you to stop becoming small because other people are growing.

Upgrade your mindset.

Upgrade your work.

Upgrade your courage.

Because when you do, you’ll realize that the things you used to call “waste of money” were never the problem.

It was always the way you saw yourself.

And sometimes it’s not envy — it’s grief.

Grief for the version of your life you imagined by now.

You have to upgrade yourself so you don’t become a hater.

I didn’t say upgrade your phone.

Or your clothes.

Or your lifestyle. No,

Upgrade your mindset.

Your faith.

Your habits.

Your heart.

You’re not behind — but you’re not ready either if your first response to someone else’s joy is to shrink into anger or perform indifference.

Do the work. Stay soft.

Build capacity.

Lorie’s stories💕🌸

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