It started with a necklace. A little gold chain with a tiny pendant shaped like the sun, gifted by a cousin years ago. Not big enough to be flashy, not small enough to go unnoticed—it held just the right amount of charm. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I slipped it on one casual Wednesday, and that’s when my tiny habit unwound a thread in my life I didn’t know needed stitching.

You see, back then I was in what I like to call my "Vanishing Harriet Era." The Harriet on the surface—from Abuja to London—was checking all the boxes: career that looked great on LinkedIn? Done. Friend group that could rival cast members from an old-school Nollywood drama? Present. Relationship that, on paper, seemed glossy and full of promise? Tick. But somehow, in the middle of it all, I felt like I was quietly folding myself into a corner, like a favourite Ankara print left at the tailor’s, half-forgotten.

The Missing Magic: Small Yet Mighty

It’s weird where it starts, isn’t it? One day you’re moving through life like an extra in someone else’s movie, and the next, a simple necklace calls your name loud enough to shake you out of it. That day, standing in front of my wardrobe and putting on that pendant, I swear I felt something shift. Not in a major Burna Boy wins a Grammy way, no. This was more like a soft reawakening, like the opening chords of Asa’s “Jailer.”

Wearing that necklace became a little act of rebellion; it was mine, and only mine. It wasn’t a gift from a boss or a partner or a well-meaning mentor. It wasn’t tied to someone else’s expectations. Just a small thing, sparking big realizations.

It made me take a long, hard look at Harriet—the real Harriet. Not Relationship Harriet, not Work Harriet. Who was I when nobody was asking anything from me? And more importantly, how did I let myself fade into the background in the first place?

A Habit Worth Keeping

The thing about small changes is that they sneak up on you. You’re doing something seemingly insignificant, and before long, it’s as if you’ve rearranged part of your soul. Putting on that necklace every morning gave me the tiniest taste of control. It became a micro-moment where I could choose myself, without saying it out loud or posting a motivational caption on Instagram. It was just an automatic, subtle nod to who I was.

From there, the habit expanded, like cracking a single egg and suddenly deciding to bake a whole cake. I started adding more moments of “me”—choosing red lipstick even when nobody was going to see me that day, taking solo walks without my eternal +1 (ahem, my phone), buying fresh flowers from the auntie who sold hibiscus roadside. These were my tiny rebellions against the forces that made me forget how vibrant life could be.

Even in the moments when the world seemed upside down—relationship hiccups, work drama, the pandemic unmooring all sense of balance—these small rituals built a sense of grounding I didn’t know I needed. They became a quiet statement: Harriet has entered the chat.

Making Space for Ourselves

Now, as subtle as this was, it wasn’t all sunshine and instant clarity. Breaking old patterns is like untangling a tightly braided hairdo—you’ll get there, but not without a little effort and a few knots. I had to ask myself some uncomfortable questions along the way:

  • Why was I so quick to prioritize everyone else over myself?
  • Where did I learn to downplay my own wants and needs?
  • How much of the "good Harriet" persona was rooted in pleasing others rather than being myself?

Growing up in Nigeria, surrounded by expectations steeped in family, community, and culture, it was easy to see how this habit of shrinking had taken root. I was raised in a family where the village mattered—where we leaned on each other during triumphs and carried each other through challenges. It was beautiful and grounding, yes, but personal wants sometimes got lost in the collective shuffle.

That’s the delicate balance, isn’t it? Keeping the parts of tradition that nourish your soul while letting go of the chains that hold you back. And it’s not just me—whether you grew up in Lagos or London, culturally, socially, or romantically, we’ve all learned to dim our light at some point.

The Ripple Effect: What Tiny Acts Teach Us About Big Change

Here’s the fascinating thing about habits: the tiniest ones have the power to ripple far beyond their seemingly small scope. That necklace—a random adornment, really—taught me to ask myself: What other tiny acts could shift me closer to my authentic self?

Maybe for you, it’s not a necklace. Maybe it’s the ritual of setting out a mug for tea every morning as the sun rises, taking the time to embrace silence while the world catches its breath. Or maybe it’s a new bedtime routine where you unplug from social media and actually read that book you promised yourself you’d finish. Or something as simple as saying a firm “no” to plans you feel obligated to attend but don’t really enjoy (hint: if you sighed while typing “Sure, I’ll come” into a group chat, this one’s for you).

Here are some lessons my gold pendant taught me—lessons that turned a single habit into sustainable personal change:

  1. Start small, focus big. Don’t underestimate the power of a seemingly insignificant habit. Sometimes, it’s not about the habit itself but what it symbolizes.
  2. Celebrate the private wins. Some of the best parts of life don’t need to be Instagrammed. Not every victory is a public event, and that’s perfectly okay.
  3. Ask better questions. Be curious about yourself. What tiny change can you make today to prioritize your joy or authenticity?
  4. Give yourself permission. Growing up, we’re taught to seek permission from others—parents, teachers, bosses—but let’s flip that script. Start giving yourself the “yes” you’ve been waiting for.

The Necklace, The Lesson, The Life

I still wear that necklace. Not every day—because the beauty of this habit is that it’s not about the object, really. It’s about what it taught me: that life is better when I decorate it with things and moments that remind me of who I truly am.

I don’t need grand gestures to stay grounded—my day can sparkle with small things, as long as they’re my things. Whether it’s the sound of Afro-pop playing as I dance in my living room or the feeling of sunshine on my face during a lone Saturday morning stroll, each small act brings me closer to the Harriet I’ve always been underneath it all.

So, what habit will save you? It might look ordinary, even silly at first glance. But don’t be surprised if—like that little gold necklace—it guides you back to something extraordinary: yourself.