Tabitha Oyewole

I had a class at 1 p.m. today, and around noon I decided I needed to take a power nap before stepping out of the house. So, I set my alarm for 12:30 p.m. and went to sleep. I still don’t understand the concept of alarms because every time mine goes off, I have a habit of ignoring it and giving myself extra time. It usually goes like this: my alarm goes off at the set time (as expected), I convince myself that I need 10 more minutes, I don’t set another alarm, I just close my eyes—half asleep, half awake—and monitor the clock in my head. When I hit the 10-minute mark, I convince myself that it wouldn’t be terrible to take another 10 or 15 minutes. Sometimes I even stretch it to an extra hour. That’s my struggle every time I sleep. I used to think it was a bad habit, but considering how long it takes me to fall asleep in the first place, maybe it’s not the worst thing.

Back to today: I was still negotiating with myself about time and finding new reasons to stay on the couch. It was 12:55 p.m. at this point, and suddenly, a weird alarm that I knew absolutely nothing about goes off. In fact, it was talking. It said something about leaving the building through the stairs because they suspected a fire somewhere. Oh. A fire alarm.

I looked around my apartment slowly, just to make sure I hadn’t started the fire in my sleep. I’ve always wanted a superpower so… maybe I finally got one. I unplugged my devices; again, slowly. I packed my bag, wore my shoes, put on my wig, took my time locking the door, then headed to the staircase. I saw people rushing down, but guess who was taking her sweet time? Me. I got outside, saw everyone gathered, used a window reflection to adjust my wig because apparently there was no time to use a mirror in my apartment, and then I just left and walked to class.

It was on my way to class that I realized I may have done something strange. How did I not panic? Why wasn’t I worried? Why didn’t I think to hang around while the fire department tried to find the source? What if the fire spread? What if I had to pack my expensive gadgets (I promise, they are)? Was I calm because I’m in a country with a functional emergency system? Am I nonchalant, or do I just take Jesus’ instruction not to worry very literally?

I had to reflect on how I generally handle life. I’m not suicidal or detached, but I truly don’t stress about life too much. My eye condition is a great example: Doctors said I’m blind. Is there a solution? Not yet. Is there a temporary fix? Yes, but it will cost me a lot. Okay. Then we’ll do it. I’m not taking material possessions to the grave. I won’t pretend I didn’t cry when my vision worsened because it is painful when you’re trying to see something you used to see and just… can’t. But I realized quickly that this situation, like many others I’ve faced or will face, is out of my control. So instead of worrying, I try to make the best of every situation. That’s probably why, during the fire alarm, instead of panicking, I just got myself to class. If I hadn’t taken that nap, I wouldn’t have even known about the fire. And either way, it wasn’t my job to fix it. Life goes on.

So, is this nonchalance? Let’s unpack that.

A nonchalant person, according to the dictionary, “feels or appears casually calm and relaxed; not displaying anxiety, interest, or enthusiasm.” On the surface, that doesn’t sound like a problem. Calmness is supposed to be a good thing. But my best friend once called me nonchalant back in undergrad, and she definitely didn’t mean it as a compliment. And just recently, I saw a bunch of people on Nigerian Twitter complaining about their nonchalant partners. So apparently, nonchalance has some negative PR.

The negative interpretation is that nonchalant people don’t care or lack empathy. Is that me? I don’t think so. I care deeply about people. That’s actually why I get hurt often. I’m definitely empathetic. I just don’t invest emotional energy in situations that are out of my control, or where my involvement won’t make a real difference. For me, that’s a boundary. That’s protection. That’s sanity.

So yes, maybe I am nonchalant; but in a good way. And I am this way because I take Philippians 4:6 seriously:

“Do not be anxious or worried about anything, but in everything—by prayer and petition with thanksgiving—continue to make your specific requests known to God.”

Philippians 4:6 (AMP)

If you read this all the way to the end, email me at reinecrite@yahoo.com. Let’s talk about nonchalance and what the Bible actually says about it.

Sidenote: I really thought that paying for my website annually would force me to write more, but clearly, I don’t care about money either. I blame academia though. I have been doing so much academic writing that I forgot how therapeutic this kind of reflective writing is for me. This piece comes from recent deep reflection, especially since I’ve mentally checked out of Ph.D. life for a week, and also because my website subscription charged me yesterday. Bummer! Please beg me to keep writing.