✍️✍️▪️▪️ “Only Useful Until…”▪️▪️✍️✍️
Aisha was the kind of woman everyone depended on.
At work, she covered shifts for coworkers who “really needed the day off.”
In her family, she was the problem-solver — the one who picked up the phone at 2 a.m., the one who sent money even when she barely had enough for herself.
In her circle of friends, she was the listener, the planner, the one who always made things happen.
People said,
“You’re such a blessing,”
“We don’t know what we’d do without you,”
“You’re so strong — you can handle anything.”
But none of them ever stopped to ask who she had.
The Fall
Then came the season Aisha didn’t expect.
A project went wrong at work, and she was blamed for a mistake she didn’t make. She lost her job in a single meeting — no warning, no compassion.
Suddenly, the woman who always helped others now needed help herself.
For the first time in years, she texted her friends:
“Could someone help me with groceries this week? Just until I get back on my feet.”
No replies.
She called her cousins:
“Can you lend me something small? I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.”
They didn’t pick up.
The same people who once begged for her support now acted as though her existence was a burden.
The Disappearance
Days turned into weeks.
The group chat that she used to keep alive was silent.
The family members who once called her for money suddenly remembered she existed only when they needed advice — not when she needed comfort.
One friend even said:
“You’re going through a lot… I don’t want to be drained right now.”
The words hit harder than losing her job.
Aisha realized she hadn’t lost friends;
she had lost illusions.
The One Who Stayed
One evening, she sat outside her apartment, scrolling through unpaid bills, unsure what to do next. The streetlights flickered, and the loneliness felt heavier than the night itself.
Then she got a knock on her door.
It was her neighbor, Mrs. Okafor — a woman she barely spoke to.
“I heard you lost your job, my dear,” she said softly.
“I cooked too much soup today. Come, take some. And tell me what happened.”
No hidden intentions.
No expectations.
Just kindness for the sake of kindness.
As Aisha ate, tears welled up — not from the struggle, but from remembering what genuine care felt like.
The Awakening
In the following weeks, Aisha rebuilt slowly.
She applied for new positions, learned new skills online, and began saving what little she had.
But she also made a decision:
No more giving until empty.
No more relationships based on usefulness.
No more disguising exploitation as loyalty.
She unfollowed the friends who only appeared during her good seasons.
She stopped answering the calls of people who only dialed her number for favors.
And with each boundary she created, she felt lighter.
The Rise
Months later, she secured a better job than the one she lost — higher pay, healthier environment, real growth. People who once ignored her messages suddenly reappeared:
“Hey stranger!”
“I’ve been meaning to check on you.”
“Let’s hang out — I missed you!”
But she was different now.
She finally understood that some people aren’t friends — they’re consumers.
They don’t miss you.
They miss access to you.
The Lesson
Aisha realized a truth many learn the hard way:
Some people are only nice as long as the benefits flow.
Once the benefits stop, their true character shows.
But she also learned something even more powerful:
When the wrong people leave your life, the right ones finally have space to enter.
And that made losing them feel like the beginning, not the end.
---
Aisha was the kind of woman everyone depended on.
At work, she covered shifts for coworkers who “really needed the day off.”
In her family, she was the problem-solver — the one who picked up the phone at 2 a.m., the one who sent money even when she barely had enough for herself.
In her circle of friends, she was the listener, the planner, the one who always made things happen.
People said,
“You’re such a blessing,”
“We don’t know what we’d do without you,”
“You’re so strong — you can handle anything.”
But none of them ever stopped to ask who she had.
The Fall
Then came the season Aisha didn’t expect.
A project went wrong at work, and she was blamed for a mistake she didn’t make. She lost her job in a single meeting — no warning, no compassion.
Suddenly, the woman who always helped others now needed help herself.
For the first time in years, she texted her friends:
“Could someone help me with groceries this week? Just until I get back on my feet.”
No replies.
She called her cousins:
“Can you lend me something small? I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.”
They didn’t pick up.
The same people who once begged for her support now acted as though her existence was a burden.
The Disappearance
Days turned into weeks.
The group chat that she used to keep alive was silent.
The family members who once called her for money suddenly remembered she existed only when they needed advice — not when she needed comfort.
One friend even said:
“You’re going through a lot… I don’t want to be drained right now.”
The words hit harder than losing her job.
Aisha realized she hadn’t lost friends;
she had lost illusions.
The One Who Stayed
One evening, she sat outside her apartment, scrolling through unpaid bills, unsure what to do next. The streetlights flickered, and the loneliness felt heavier than the night itself.
Then she got a knock on her door.
It was her neighbor, Mrs. Okafor — a woman she barely spoke to.
“I heard you lost your job, my dear,” she said softly.
“I cooked too much soup today. Come, take some. And tell me what happened.”
No hidden intentions.
No expectations.
Just kindness for the sake of kindness.
As Aisha ate, tears welled up — not from the struggle, but from remembering what genuine care felt like.
The Awakening
In the following weeks, Aisha rebuilt slowly.
She applied for new positions, learned new skills online, and began saving what little she had.
But she also made a decision:
No more giving until empty.
No more relationships based on usefulness.
No more disguising exploitation as loyalty.
She unfollowed the friends who only appeared during her good seasons.
She stopped answering the calls of people who only dialed her number for favors.
And with each boundary she created, she felt lighter.
The Rise
Months later, she secured a better job than the one she lost — higher pay, healthier environment, real growth. People who once ignored her messages suddenly reappeared:
“Hey stranger!”
“I’ve been meaning to check on you.”
“Let’s hang out — I missed you!”
But she was different now.
She finally understood that some people aren’t friends — they’re consumers.
They don’t miss you.
They miss access to you.
The Lesson
Aisha realized a truth many learn the hard way:
Some people are only nice as long as the benefits flow.
Once the benefits stop, their true character shows.
But she also learned something even more powerful:
When the wrong people leave your life, the right ones finally have space to enter.
And that made losing them feel like the beginning, not the end.
---
Topic Live
