Listen to this post: How It Feels Watching Your Friends Succeed in Nigeria While You Struggle Abroad
You get in from work and your body feels heavy. The kind of tired that sits behind your eyes. You kick off your shoes, warm up something small, and tell yourself you’ll rest early tonight.
Then your phone lights up.
WhatsApp status. Instagram stories. Another photo of house keys. Another “God did” caption. Someone’s new SUV in Lekki traffic. Someone’s pre-wedding shoot with matching outfits. Someone opening a logistics office in Lagos. Another friend posting land documents for Ibadan like it’s a casual Tuesday.
And you’re happy for them. You are. But your chest tightens anyway.
This is the strange, loud feeling many Nigerians abroad carry in January 2026. The “japa” story promised progress, but abroad can move slow, rent is high, taxes bite, and you’re rebuilding life from zero. Back home, Nigeria still has hard edges, but parts of the economy look steadier than they did, and some people are catching real opportunities.
The gut punch: what it feels like when your people are winning back home
Photo by Ninthgrid
It hits in small moments.
A friend posts “Just bought land in Ibadan.” Another shares a video from their new shop in Abuja, shelves full, generator humming. Someone you used to borrow data from is now talking about stock gains and “entries”.
Meanwhile, you’re abroad sharing a room, or paying for a studio that still feels temporary. You’re doing mental maths at the checkout. You’re counting coins after bills. You’ve got a decent job title, yet the month ends like a joke that isn’t funny.
You start to feel split in two.
One part of you wants to scream, “Yes, my people are winning.” The other part whispers, “So why am I stuck?”
You might even avoid the chats. Not because you hate them, but because every update feels like a spotlight on your own slow pace. Silence can look like pride, but sometimes it’s just survival.
This mix doesn’t make you bad. It makes you human. If anything, it shows you still care, about them, about yourself, about what your life was meant to become.
If you’ve seen stories about Nigerians abroad struggling with unmet expectations and mental health pressure, you’ll recognise the pattern in reports like this one from Pulse: https://www.pulse.ng/articles/news/local/japa-many-nigerians-regret-relocating-abroad-battling-depression-dabiri-erewa-2025031000184069498
Pride, envy, and shame can sit in the same seat
Pride shows up first. Your friend’s engagement makes you smile. Your chest warms. You remember when you all had nothing but gist and dreams.
Then envy slips in, quiet and sharp. It might be triggered by a business opening, a new job title, or a family group chat praising them like they’re the only one “trying”.
After that comes shame, the one that makes you question your own story. You start editing your life in your head, hiding the parts that look messy.
And there’s guilt too. Because you want to clap for them, but you also feel small while clapping.
Social media turns their highlight into your daily mirror
Online life rarely shows the stress behind the photo.
That new car might be financed. That house key might come with debt, family help, or a landlord dispute they won’t post. That “soft life” caption might sit on top of sleepless nights, prayer, and panic.
But your brain doesn’t see the hidden parts. It sees results.
Time zones make it worse. You’re scrolling at 1 a.m. when your body is weakest. Their morning post becomes your midnight mirror. Your own slow progress starts to feel like failure, even when you’re moving.
Why your life abroad can feel harder than people think
A lot of people back home still think abroad is one straight road: arrive, work, buy house, send money, glow up.
Real life is more like walking up a hill with a backpack full of stones. You’re climbing, but nobody sees the weight.
Yes, you might earn in pounds, euros, or dollars, but expenses abroad can swallow that currency like it’s nothing. Add visas, paperwork, and the pressure to “show something”, and you can end up living on a tight rope.
Also, you’re building without the usual support system. No auntie next door. No neighbour that can watch your child for one hour. No cousin that can connect you to a job lead over jollof.
Even the “japa” conversation has started shifting, with more honest stories about how hard it gets, including pieces like this on people returning home due to unmet expectations: https://gistreel.com/japa-nigerians-abroad-return-home-amid-unmet-expectations-mental-health-struggles
Rent, bills, and paperwork can eat your whole salary
Rent day abroad is a monthly reminder that money can disappear fast.
You pay rent, transport, phone plan, groceries, and little fees you didn’t have a name for back home. In some places you add council tax. In others you add health insurance. Childcare can cost more than your rent. A simple appointment can mean lost work hours.
Then there’s immigration stress. Visa renewals, application fees, document translations, legal advice, biometrics. One delay can pause your life. One mistake can cost you months.
Flights for emergencies are another silent tax. You can’t predict death, illness, or sudden family needs, but you still feel responsible.
No safety net, no ‘my guy’, and nobody to carry you for a week
In Nigeria, support can be imperfect, but it exists. Someone can cook for you when you’re sick. Someone knows someone. Introductions happen in minutes.
Abroad, you pay for what community used to cover. You book everything. You queue for everything. You solve problems alone, in systems that don’t care that you’re tired.
And loneliness isn’t just emotional, it’s practical. When you’re alone, you rest less. When you rest less, you think slower. When you think slower, progress drags.
Sometimes you also carry bias at work. Sometimes it’s open. Often it’s subtle. You’re “good”, but not picked. You’re “hardworking”, but not promoted. You start doubting yourself.
And through it all, there’s the pressure to send money home, because your struggle abroad is invisible, while their need is loud and urgent.
For broader context on how mass migration has become a cultural force, this RTE piece captures how widespread “japa” has become: https://www.rte.ie/news/world/2025/1204/1547159-lagos-simon-cumbers/
What’s changing in Nigeria in 2026, and why their success might be real
It’s tempting to say, “They’re just packaging,” and sometimes that’s true. But not always.
Nigeria’s 2026 picture looks more mixed than the pure doom many of us got used to. Several forecasts project GDP growth around the low-to-mid 4 percent range, tied to services and trade, with inflation easing from late 2025 levels, and a calmer naira compared to the chaos of earlier periods. Foreign reserves have also been described as strengthening after recent reforms.
This doesn’t mean life is easy back home. It means parts of the system are breathing again, and some people can finally plan without panic.
One reason you’re seeing “wins” is that some Nigerians positioned themselves early, especially in sectors that can move fast when stability improves. The 2025 stock market run-up, more activity in services, the digital economy, trade, and parts of agriculture and food processing have all created pockets of opportunity.
If you want a more detailed macro view, Strategy& (PwC) published a January 2026 outlook with key indicators and drivers: https://www.strategyand.pwc.com/a1/en/assets/pdf/ng-economic-outlook/turning-macroeconomic-stability-to-sustainable-growth.pdf
Some friends are catching the wave early, others are still drowning
Opportunity in Nigeria isn’t shared evenly.
Someone with capital can buy stocks, take a position, and wait. Someone with family land can build sooner. Someone in tech can earn from local and foreign clients. Someone with the right shop in the right area can turn foot traffic into profit.
At the same time, many families are still squeezed by food costs and weak buying power, and some areas face serious security risks. One person’s “God did” can exist beside another person’s “How will we eat?”
Agriculture has had visible rebounds in recent reporting, but it also shows how uneven the story can be depending on location and access, as covered here: https://financeinafrica.com/insights/agriculture-posts-strong-rebound-q3/
So if your friends are doing well, it might not be fake. It might be timing, access, and a market that is giving them small windows to grow.
How to cope without turning bitter, and how to build your own wins abroad
Bitter is a slow poison. It doesn’t hurt them first, it hurts you. It steals your focus, then your sleep, then your confidence.
Coping doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It means making space for the truth, then choosing what you’ll do with it.
Start with one fact: your pace abroad is not a moral failure. It’s often just the maths of starting again in an expensive place, with fewer hands around you.
If you’ve been following the debate about “japa syndrome” and what it’s doing to both Nigeria and the diaspora, this piece gives a clear overview of the bigger conversation: https://blueprint.ng/how-nigeria-can-overcome-japa-syndrome/
Simple ways to protect your mind when updates trigger you
Small boundaries can save your week.
- Mute, don’t block. You’re not at war, you’re protecting your head.
- Set a 15-minute social window once a day, not an endless scroll.
- Don’t doom-scroll at night. Night scrolling turns small worries into monsters.
- Step back from group chats that run on comparison and pressure.
- Write down what you’re building, even if it’s tiny.
- Keep a “small wins” note. Paid debt. Finished a course module. Showed up.
A 60-second grounding exercise that works when your chest tightens: Plant both feet, press your toes into the floor, inhale for four counts, hold for two, exhale for six. Look around and name five things you can see. Your brain slows down when you give it simple tasks.
Turn the comparison into a plan you can actually follow
Comparison is painful, but it can also point to what you want. The trick is turning it into something you can act on.
Here’s a simple 90-day plan:
- Pick one goal for the next 90 days. One, not five. A job switch, a certification, a savings target, or a debt pay-off.
- Build a small support circle abroad. One friend you can be honest with. One mentor at work. One community space, even if it’s a monthly meet-up.
- Keep one smart link to Nigeria, not ten emotional ones. Learn a market. Explore a side hustle you can manage. Consider investing only after real research.
A useful script when family pressure rises: “I’m working and I’m okay, but my costs here are high. I can send X monthly, and I can’t go past that.”
Another script when friends ask, “So when are you coming home with money?” “I’m building step by step. I’m happy for your win. Mine is coming too.”
Also, be careful with “quick money” offers. When you’re tired and ashamed, you’re easier to trick. Ask hard questions before sending large funds to anyone, even people you love.
For deeper economic context and risks (including why growth can still feel uneven), IMF country work like this can help you read beyond headlines: https://www.imf.org/-/media/files/publications/cr/2025/english/1ngaea2025002-print-pdf.pdf
Conclusion
That tight feeling in your chest has a name: it’s the stress of caring, while also feeling stuck.
Your life abroad isn’t a punishment, and their success isn’t an insult. Two truths can sit together: you can be proud of them, and still need more for yourself. You can miss home, and still want to finish what you started abroad.
Choose what you feed. Choose what you focus on. Choose what you build next, even if it’s slow. Slow progress is still progress.
This week, pick one small action: mute one trigger, save one amount, send one application, or ask one person for help. Which one will you do before Sunday?
