Let’s start with the numbers. According to the World Health Organisation (WHO), conflict and insecurity have displaced over 3.2 million people, many of whom are facing . According to the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA), Nigeria has to cater to a population of over 200 million people. In 2022, more than 16,500 people in Borno State , and roughly 176,000 people got psychosocial support. Yet, most of it was funded by Non-governmental Organisations (NGO) and donors, and it barely scratched the surface given the number of displaced and disadvantaged people in Borno and Nigeria as a whole.

To cap it off, the WHO Africa Regional Office says that . Essentially, dealing with mental health challenges is difficult, but dealing with those challenges in Nigeria? Yikes.

Why does this matter?

To start with, Nigeria can be regarded as a country of particular concern when it comes to mental health. We rank 106th out of 147 countries globally in the , a decline from 105th in 2025 and 102nd in 2024. We have a face-me-I-slap-you standard of living, ranking last globally in the . And if trends in insecurity, cost of living, and healthcare are anything to go by, it could get even worse. 

Mental health in a country like this should be very much a matter of great concern. 

But it is not. We���re dealing with diagnosis gaps, manpower shortages, funding limitations, and a lack of the right legal frameworks.

For suicide awareness, this means that people in crisis are not met with a functioning system that can cater to their needs. But from a system perspective, it matters as well, because it undermines our economic output, it can shape the health and livelihoods of generations to come, and it falls on the young bulk of Nigeria���s population, who could go on to manifest in the form of academic stress, unemployment, substance use, and exposure to violence.

The Big Daily is your weekday shortcut to the biggest news shaping Nigeria. We cut through the noise, connect the dots, and explain why the news actually matters, all in one quick read.

What is the way forward?

There are some positives for Nigeria���s mental health culture and capabilities. The was signed into law in 2023, replacing the outdated colonial-era with a mental health framework that is more grounded in human rights and empathy. But it did not decriminalise suicide. In August 2026, the Federal Executive Council (FEC) approved a proposed amendment to the National Mental Health Act that would remove the criminalisation of suicide. It is still pending; we await it. But for now, suicide is still criminalised in Nigeria.

The for the Federal Ministry of Health calls for suicide to be declared a national public health priority, which will involve integrating mental health into primary care, establishing a governance structure, and promoting responsible media reporting of suicide. 

And of course, private and NGO support continues to grow to meet the excess demand, with WHO and organisations like providing intervention, services, and helplines.

Yet, there is still so much to be done and a lot of it boils down to governance. Changing a law that says “we won’t punish you” is not the same as creating a system that says “let us help you.” 

More of the health budget should be allocated for mental health, more primary health centres should incorporate mental health care, more professional training pathways should be introduced, and more data should be established for national suicide and mental health surveillance.

Yes, the government can affect your mental health. Either by the problems they create or the lack of solutions for the mental effects of these problems. For most Nigerians, this effect can cause problems for our well-being, loss of livelihoods, and, sadly enough, suicide.

For Dada*, 30, she first noticed that her ���usual��� PMS symptoms were a little more than that at the age of 26. ���I was in a car that was on Third Mainland Bridge, and I nearly jumped into the water. I was so scared because it felt so real; I could clearly see myself doing that. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that I thought about how cold the water would be.���

is a severe form of PMS, and suicidal thoughts are one of its symptoms. It causes intense physical and emotional symptoms every menstrual cycle in the week or two before your period. Symptoms often abate as soon as the period comes. We spoke to Clinical Psychology Researcher about PMDD and how it increases suicidal ideation in women.

What is PMDD?

PMDD affects roughly ; that is, 1 in every 18 women has PMDD. To get a diagnosis, at least five symptoms have to show up in the final week before a period, ease off within days of the period starting, and disappear in the week after the period starts. Because so many conditions can mimic it, doctors are meant to confirm the pattern with daily symptom tracking across at least two cycles before calling it PMDD. Most women never get that far.

The “just” in “it���s just PMS” is where the trouble starts. Women with PMDD have almost seven times the odds of attempting suicide, and almost four times the odds of experiencing suicidal ideation, .

For Dada*, those two weeks before her period meant she was fighting her mind in addition to all the physical symptoms. ���I would literally be in a fetal position, crying, and my mind would tell me how worthless and useless and stupid I was, and how I should kill myself because I wasn’t worth the time and space and nobody would love me for me,��� she says. ���It would stay for two weeks. I’d feel fatigued and exhausted, easily irritated and extremely emotional. It was like my nerves were exposed.��� She would start fights with her sister and her partner at the time, and she believes the fog of it kept her in a toxic situationship far longer than she should have stayed. At work, she would lock herself in the toilet and cry for hours, ���trying so hard not to die.��� She cancelled plans because she felt drained and unworthy of being around people. ���There have been times when I thought I was actually going to die. I’ve almost cut myself multiple times.���

For years, she didn’t have a name for any of it. ���I didn’t think of PMDD until two years later, when I saw a post on X (fka Twitter). I thought it was just stress. I didn’t even track the frequency of my cycle until I was 27, and even then, I thought it was just usual period nonsense, because it would stop immediately when my period came.���

Next Read: 11 Nigerian Women Share How Their Mental Health Affects Their Romantic Relationships

The pattern of symptoms that build before a period and lift almost as soon as it arrives is one of the signature tells of PMDD, and one of the reasons it hides so well. Researchers now understand it as a sensitivity in the brain’s response to the normal hormonal changes of the menstrual cycle, not too much or too little of any hormone. The hormones of someone with PMDD would look perfectly ordinary on a test. What differs is how the brain reacts to them, and because the reaction is timed to her cycle, it is easy to mistake it for stress, a bad week, or a personality flaw.

Ibukun*, 23, an artist, spent years doing exactly that. She had always had depression, so when things got dramatically worse in the days before her period, she filed it under her existing diagnosis. ���I just thought that was me being me,��� she says. ���I wasn’t very good at relationships, so I always thought it was a me problem. I just thought,��� Oh, my depressive episodes get worse before my period. Cool.��� 

In that week, she would stay in bed, struggle with basic hygiene, cry at everything, and pick fights with the idea of cutting people off entirely. ���Every time I have an issue with a friend before my PMDD hits, I just consider cutting them off when I’m in a PMDD rut.��� 

When she was younger and severely depressed, that same week came with self-harm. ���A week before my period, I would constantly cut my arms. I’ve stopped that, thank God.��� She only learned PMDD existed in 2021, when a friend posted about it, and she educated herself; she was formally diagnosed in therapy in 2023. Even now, she is unmedicated. ���I’m not medicated or anything. I’m just aware that okay, yeah, it’s PMDD, and I rawdog it.���

Adesuwa*, 26, also had to find the word herself. The first time she noticed something was wrong was in 2020, and when she told a friend how she was feeling, the friend ���jokingly��� told her to kill herself. She assumed it was the pressure of school. Her worst days bring body weakness that keeps her in bed, anger at the world and then at herself, and a depression deep enough that she thinks about dying. Her darkest moment came while cooking, when she caught herself wishing the gas would explode and kill her. Her period arrived less than an hour later. Like many Nigerians, she read about PMDD online and immediately recognised herself in it. Naming the feeling was her first step to coping. She sees a therapist now, and while she has no formal diagnosis, her therapist gives her techniques that help.

Some women never get that close to an answer. Funmi*, 23, started experiencing worsening anxiety and feelings of low self-worth about two weeks before her period, around the age of 20, and she dismissed it herself. ���I really just thought this was what everyone experienced when they said they experienced PMS,��� she says. She has no official diagnosis and had never spoken to anyone about it until last year. Her lowest point came during her medical board exams, when worsening premenstrual symptoms collided with exam anxiety. ���It was such a haze, honestly, and I can’t even say how I got through it. It’s a blank space in my memory.���

The women who did seek medical help often came back with nothing useful. Dada* was repeatedly told it was stress and that she should improve her diet and exercise more. ���The gynaecologists kept saying it was normal, which is crazy,��� she says. She was only diagnosed in the end because her therapist was working carefully to rule out ADHD and autism. ���I wish women weren’t always dismissed with ‘that’s how it is’,��� she says. ���It irks my soul every time I hear it.���

Why is Getting a PMDD Diagnosis Hard?

Like most mental disorders, PMDD doesn���t come alone, and that is one reason it hides for so long. Between 42% and 49% of people with premenstrual disorders also live with a . An existing diagnosis can become a hiding place. Ibukun spent years filing her worst weeks under the depression she already knew she had, because a worsening of what you already have does not look like a new condition.

The overlap with ADHD is even sharper. Provisional PMDD in 31.4% of women with an ADHD diagnosis, against 9.8% of women without ADHD. Women carrying ADHD together with depression or anxiety were the most at risk in the entire sample, with more than four times the risk of women without ADHD. Dada*’s experience sits inside this pattern: her PMDD was only named because her therapist was carefully ruling out ADHD and autism first.

PMDD is also . Women with mothers and sisters who experience PMDD are more at risk of developing the disorder. 

PMDD rearranges lives, especially in Nigeria, a country where women’s diagnosis is a Herculean task. Funmi missed classes for days at a time, absences she couldn’t afford and had to scramble to make up for. Adesuwa* can’t do meaningful work in her bad week and now plans her workload around her cycle. Ibukun*’s executive dysfunction deepens. And because Nigeria’s mental health support is largely private and largely unaffordable, therapy, the thing that moved three of these four women forward, stays out of reach for most. ���I just wish everyone could afford mental health support services, because they go a long way,��� Adesuwa says.

Next Read: Body Dysmorphia: It Is MORE Than Hating Your Body

So what actually helps? 

The women have answers they built themselves. For Funmi*, she optimises her life around her cycle, and keeps her closest circle to people she doesn’t have to apologise to, reminds herself that some of what she feels in that week isn’t real, and protects her school attendance so that the days she truly can’t show up don’t cost her. 

Adesuwa* tracks her cycle to plan and leans on music. She goes to therapy, watches comfort shows, and surrounds herself with friends and family who make things feel lighter. 

Dada* tracks her period with an app and her calendar so she can catch the shift early, and finds that exercise, eating well, and sleeping well all help. ���Having a safe community of people who can listen without judgment, and who can care for you in the aftermath of an episode, is extremely important,��� she says.

Modern medicine has answers, too. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists strongly SSRIs, a class of antidepressants, for the mood symptoms of premenstrual disorders, and lists hormonal treatments, counselling, exercise, nutritional therapies, and self-help strategies among the options. Many patients do best with a combination. A diagnosis matters because the treatment for PMDD is specific, and because a woman who knows her calendar can prepare for her hardest week instead of being ambushed by it.

The week before a period should be uncomfortable at worst. It should not be a week a woman has to survive. For the roughly 1 in 18 women living with PMDD, “it’s just PMS” is not reassurance, and for some women, the distance between that dismissal and a bridge, a blade, or a kitchen is one bad cycle. As Funmi puts it: ���People make a lot of jokes about ‘oh, it’s that time of the month’, but it’s not normal to feel like you want to jump off a bridge because of your period.���

It’s more than mood swings. It always was.

If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide or self-harm, you can reach out to someone:

• Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI): 08091116264 or 08111680686

• International Association for Premenstrual Disorders (IAPMD): iapmd.org

• Find a Helpline: findahelpline.com

Mental health struggles are complex, and for many Nigerians, the country’s financial state worsens their mental health.Here are five Nigerians who suffered severe mental health crises due to financial pressure and the poor state of the economy, and what thankfully made them choose to stay.

���Dead people don���t pay bills��� ��� Nafisa*, F, 26, Lagos. 

I���ve always had financial anxiety. Even when I was steadily earning ���200k/month, the state of the country would make me panic about how much I had and if it would be enough to keep me alive.

Then I lost my steady job earlier this year when the company I worked for pulled out of the country. So now I���m a freelance makeup artist, earning ���100k-���200k per job. Technically, I can potentially earn more now, but my income is unstable, and I only get one or two makeup jobs a month. So, the way I see it, I���m basically jobless.

I have to think about my ���1.2 million/year rent, amongst other expenses. Because of this, I isolate myself, afraid that if I go out with friends, I���m wasting money.

 Sometimes, my anxiety gets so bad that I have depressive episodes and nervous breakdowns. I panic, wondering when I���ll next get a makeup gig. I passively consider ending my life. After all, dead people don���t pay bills, right?

I���m still here because of my friends. They send me money sometimes and always encourage me. Plus, when I do get a gig, my anxiety temporarily goes away. 

���Being the man of the house is hard��� ��� Tobi*, M, 26, Abuja.

My father died of cancer two years ago. Even though we all saw it coming, the grief was overwhelming.

At his funeral, an aunt whispered to me, ���You know you���re now the provider of the family?��� It was the first time I had a panic attack.

Even though my mum���s business is still bringing in a good amount of money, she���s getting old, and I worry every day about providing for her and my sisters. I earn well at ���600k a month, and I still live at home, but the pressure to be the man of the house is crushing, especially because I���m still grieving my dad.

I���ve considered ending my life a few times, just in passing, so I can escape the anxiety. But the thought of my little sisters living without me is even more terrifying, and I���m too scared to go through with it. 

���I don���t want to struggle for a life that feels pointless.��� ��� Ruth*, NB, 22, Lagos.

I left my oppressive parents��� house in 2025. They���ve never been supportive and are the most closed-minded people I���ve ever met. I was already considering suicide under their roof, so my options were either to kill myself, steal their money and leave, or run away and thug it out. I chose the last one.

I live alone now, and it���s difficult to provide for myself. The abuse I endured already made me suicidal, but now, I have times when I spiral really hard and get close to the act. The worst thing for me is struggling so hard for money just to live a pointless life and eventually die.

The main thing keeping me alive is spite. I want to prove to my parents that I���m better off without them and prove to life that I can do this. It also helps that I have god-tier friends.

���Ending my life felt better than waiting for Nigeria to end it.��� ���  Eni*, NB, 25, Lagos.

I moved out of my house earlier this year because my father was abusing me and trying to control my finances. The switch from being taken care of materially to barely being able to eat was terrifying.

At first, I felt very useless. It was hard to feel trapped in my own life, so much so that I could barely afford a crate of eggs. I thought ending my life was better than waiting for Nigeria to end it for me, and I was stuck in this headspace for at least three months.

I never thought of giving myself grace. I was doing my best, working multiple freelance gigs and living frugally, but I blamed my money struggles on not working hard enough, rather than the insane cost of living in Nigeria.

One day, I had to decide that I would not die simply because I didn���t have the financial freedom I had envisioned for myself as an adult. Also, I now know that life isn���t just happening to me; I have the power to shape my story. Plus, my friends have come through for me a lot.

���Seeing my husband depressed made me depressed.��� ���  Lola*, F, 30,  Ibadan.

In 2020, right after I got married, COVID made my husband lose his job. He was a businessman, but the lockdown made it difficult for him to transport goods and the like. As a teacher earning ���210k/month, I wasn���t making enough to sustain us. It was a major hit to our finances. It didn���t help that we were in a lockdown and could do nothing but worry.

My husband became miserable. I���d never seen that man cry so much. I was always the emotional one, so having my rock break down that way broke me as well.

I would wake up, and my first thought would be to end my life so that my husband could have one less expense to worry about.

I knew these were bad thoughts, so my husband and I began praying every night. It helped to know God was still on the throne.

Eventually, the lockdown lifted, and my husband could continue his business as smoothly as before. I thank God for watching over us at that time.

If you need support, someone to talk to, or immediate help, these Nigerian mental health resources may help.

Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI) ��� Youth-focused mental health support.

| Crisis support: +234 916 841 7413

Blueroomcare ��� Affordable online therapy.

| +234 901 667 9754

SURPIN ��� Suicide prevention & crisis intervention.

| 080 0078 7746

READ NEXT: ���I Wish I Had Done More���: Nigerians On Losing Loved Ones To Mental Health Struggles

Losing someone who struggled with their mental health can leave the people they loved with grief, anger, guilt and questions they may never get answers to. We spoke to Nigerians who lost loved ones after years of struggling with their mental health about the memories they hold on to and how they���ve learnt to live with the loss.

���I was angry that he left me to deal with everything alone��� ��� Hannah*, 44

I lost my husband to suicide in 2016 after a failed business deal wrecked our finances. He borrowed millions of naira to invest in the business , but he was scammed and lost everything. Things became even harder when he started having health problems. We completely hit rock bottom. 

I kept doing my best to keep us afloat and coast through the tough times.  Then, one day, I came home and found my husband dead. He had taken his own life.

His death was difficult enough, but some of his relatives refused to believe that he had died by suicide. They accused me of poisoning him, which meant I had to deal with their suspicions while grieving my husband. I was also angry with him. I felt like he left me with even more problems.  But over the years, I���ve forgiven him. I���ve accepted  that he must have been in a very difficult place to make that decision.

���I wish I had stayed close to her��� ��� Zainab*, 26

Lat year, I lost my cousin to drug use and mental health issues. We used to be very close, but grew apart�� as she became more and more erratic. She would call me for money and often wouldn���t return it. Eventually, my mum warned me to stay away from her.

She later went to rehab and was trying to get better, but she eventually relapsed, and took her own life. Her parents and siblings did everything they could to support her, but she didn���t have many people outside her family. I wish I had chosen to see the good in her and stayed close. 

���His death changed the way I see life��� ��� Adeleke*, 28

I lost a friend from work in 2023. Life wasn���t fair to him. His mum and only sibling died in a car accident while returning from his convocation, and he had to support himself afterwards. I knew he was struggling. He sometimes had mood swings and would withdraw from people, but I always tried to be there for him.

We saw each other at work on the Friday before he died. He didn���t show up on Monday, and when I texted him, he didn���t respond. By Tuesday, I was worried and tried to find out what had happened. I eventually learnt that his neighbours had found him unconscious in his apartment on Sunday. He was in critical condition in the hospital for some time, but he didn���t make it.

His death was painful because he had already been through so much. But losing him also changed my perspective on life. I now remind myself to make time for the things that make me happy.

���I still wonder if I could have done more��� ��� David* 29

I lost a friend to suicide in 2021. He had struggled with his mental health and his sexuality for years, especially after his sibling outed him to his family. His dad punished him severely, and he was also frustrated by repeated visa rejections while trying to leave the country.

A few weeks before he died, I noticed he had stopped posting on his story as often. I checked on him, and he told me he was okay. I believed him and didn���t push further.

When I heard the news, I was in shock. His family didn���t want people to know that he had taken his own life, and I only found out after speaking to his sister. I kept thinking about our last conversation and wondering if things would have been different if I had followed up or pushed for a deeper conversation. I still feel guilty about that.

If you need support, someone to talk to, or immediate help, these Nigerian mental health resources may help.

Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI) ��� Youth-focused mental health support

| Crisis support: +234 916 841 7413

She Writes Woman ��� Free teletherapy & crisis helpline

| +234 800 800 2000

SURPIN ��� Suicide prevention & crisis intervention

| 080 0078 7746

Asido Foundation ��� Emotional wellness assessments & 24/7 Helpline

| +234 902 808 0416

National Emergency Helpline: 112

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For many Nigerians, therapy is still surrounded by stigma, misconceptions, and questions about whether it actually works. But for those who have had access to it, therapy has become a turning point. It has helped people process grief, heal from trauma, build healthier relationships, and better understand themselves.

In this piece, Nigerians share how therapy changed their lives.

1. “I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore��� ��� Simi*, 27, F

I started therapy in 2019 at a government hospital in Lagos because it was all I could afford. I was sceptical at first, but anxiety was completely kicking my ass, and I needed help.

My therapist changed my life. Even after I moved from Lagos, she continued doing phone sessions with me for free through COVID, grief from losing my dad, and everything else 2020 threw at me.

Things still aren’t perfect, but I handle life a lot better now. I’ve been off medication for a while, and I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore. I owe it all to my wonderful therapist.

2. ���Therapy helped me realise I still deserve help��� ��� Kelechi*, 25, F

I fell into a depression after I was attacked on my way home from work one day. Eventually, I reached out to a therapist in Abuja because I knew I was getting dangerously close to breaking point.

I’d tried therapy before with someone online in the US, but I connected more with the Nigerian therapist. She was gentle, supportive, and knew how to call me out when I tried to avoid dealing with difficult issues.

My sessions with her are over now, but therapy helped me realise I still deserve help, even when things get dark again.

3. ���It completely changed my partner, and I handle conflict��� ��� Chidera, 48, F

I started couples therapy with my partner a few months ago, and it opened my eyes to so many things about myself, our relationship, and the way we communicate.

Our therapist also encouraged us to attend individual therapy because you can’t really build a healthy relationship if you’re avoiding your personal issues.

One of the biggest things therapy taught us was how to regulate our emotions together rather than constantly reacting to each other. It completely changed the way we handle conflict.

4. ���I finally experienced what emotional safety feels like��� ��� Itohan, 23, F

My father was abusive, and throughout most of my life, I learned to suppress my feelings. I genuinely had no idea what emotional intimacy was supposed to feel like.

After my family moved to the US, I decided to try therapy. During one session, my therapist hugged me, and that moment changed something in me. I’d experienced hugs before, but never one that felt genuinely safe. It felt like therapy unlocked a part of me I didn’t even know existed.

5. ���The first person I came out to was my therapist��� ��� Charles*, 24, M

Therapy helped me admit to myself that I’m gay after years of repressing it and pretending that part of me didn’t exist.

The first person I came out to was my therapist. Since then, I’ve opened up to some friends and family members, too. I genuinely don’t think I would’ve been able to accept myself without therapy.

6. ���Therapy helped me stop hurting myself��� ��� Efe*, 45, F

I never really thought therapy was for me until I moved to the UK and became more open to the idea.

I was coming out of an abusive relationship, and even after leaving, I kept blaming myself for everything that happened. Therapy helped me see how much shame, fear, and emotional baggage I was carrying.

I eventually stopped hurting myself emotionally and physically. It took more than six years to find the right therapist, but once I did, my life truly started getting better.

7. ���My inner child is finally healing��� ��� Chukwudalu, 22, M

I struggled with mental health issues for years and mostly relied on YouTube videos, music, and motivational messages because I didn’t believe in therapy.

A friend eventually recommended an online therapy platform, and those sessions changed my life. I haven’t had nightmares or panic attacks in months, and I finally feel more in tune with myself.

Honestly, it feels like my inner child is healing.

8. ���Therapy helped me rebuild my life��� ��� Jacob*, 33, M

Therapy helped me heal from grief and my divorce in ways I honestly didn’t think were possible.

Losing my parents changed me deeply, and for a long time, I felt stuck in pain I didn’t know how to process. Therapy gave me the tools to work through that grief without losing myself in it.

For the first time in years, I felt capable of rebuilding my life.

9. ���Learning how to protect my peace changed everything��� ��� Taye*, 35, M

I’ve been with my therapist for over eight years, and she has completely changed the way I deal with the dysfunctional dynamics in my family.

She helped me understand how unhealthy my relationship with my mum was and taught me how to protect myself emotionally.

Therapy taught me boundaries. It taught me emotional distance. Most importantly, it taught me that I don’t have to respond every single time someone hurts me.

Learning how to protect my peace has been one of the greatest gifts therapy has given me.

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���I traded forex with my school fees and lost it all��� ��� James*, 29, M

My dad sent me ���280k for my final-year school fees after complaining for weeks about how hard it was to get money. But at the time, Forex boys on Twitter were posting insane daily profits, and one part of me genuinely believed I could double my money before sorting out school fees.

I lost everything in two days. 

I still remember staring at red candles on the charts at 3 a.m. and trying not to die. Telling my dad was worse than the loss itself. He was so disappointed and didn���t talk to me for months. He only paid the fees (while still beefing me) because my mum begged him to. I honestly believed I���d have an extra year or he���d disown me. To this day, I can���t hear ���USD/JPY trading��� without remembering the worst week of my life.

���I borrowed money for Detty December. Then I lost my job��� ��� Queen*, 27, F

I got my first big girl job in 2024, and that December, I was determined to ���be outside���. Almost every day, I turned up at a party or an event. I even started borrowing money because I was confident my January salary would cover everything. By January 8th, my account balance was down to ���8k, and I owed a loan company ���75k. Unfortunately, I got laid off that same week.

The shege I experienced that month is one for the books. It inevitably got to the point where the loan app called and sent threats several times. They went as far as sending obituary texts to my contacts and my mum, who fainted out of shock. It was a terrible time. To date, my phone is always on silent mode because of the trauma of those loan calls.

������700k once vanished from my account. Now, I screenshot every alert��� ��� Tolani*, 35, F

In 2019, I woke up to find that over ���700k had disappeared from my account due to random transactions I didn���t make. I dragged this matter with my bank and court for months, while I borrowed money to survive. Eventually, I only got part of the money back.

Since then, I have constantly monitored my account like a security guard. I screenshot every transfer and debit alert I get. I can be doing a random thing on my phone and subconsciously open my bank app to make sure my money is still there.

意鞄艶油��is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.��Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.��.

���I hoard money by default��� ��� Josiah*, 31, M

My first employer once delayed salaries for four months. Every week, they sent motivational emails, promising that it was a temporary situation and they were working on a fix. It was an especially dark period for me as I didn���t have financial support or a second job. I sold my phone to afford food and made it a daily habit to trek for two hours to and from work.

The crazy thing is that even though I earn well now, that period permanently damaged my relationship with money. I panic whenever my account balance drops below a certain amount, even though I know I���m fine. I hoard money by default; I don���t know how to spend it.

���I miscalculated date expenses and embarrassed myself��� ��� Dele*, 26, M

I went on a first date with this fine babe to a restaurant I couldn’t afford, but I wanted to impress her. I had mentally calculated that the bill would be ���67k, which was just around what I had in my account. Unfortunately, I didn���t prepare for the service charge and VAT. When it was time to pay, my card kept declining. 

I genuinely wanted the ground to open. The waiter stood there like a debt collector, while my date suddenly became very interested in her phone. In the end, she quietly paid the bill and told me to repay her later. Omo, she blocked me everywhere the moment we left there. I still get flashbacks whenever I eat out, and I compulsively check my account balance to avoid history repeating itself.

���I overwork because I don���t want to be broke again��� ��� Nkechi*, 32, F

During COVID, I lost my job and spent eight brutal months unemployed. I exhausted my savings and borrowed from friends to survive. This is embarrassing, but I once slept with my elderly landlord so I wouldn���t pay rent. 

Two weeks later, the stupid man still came to disturb me for rent and implied I should sleep with him again. I had to move back to my parents��� house, something I had been avoiding because of my dad���s wahala.

Today, I have three jobs and barely sleep because I���m terrified of ever returning to that place financially. My employers praise me for being hardworking, but honestly, a lot of it is fear. Rest feels dangerous, and I can’t even imagine turning down work.

���I buy things in bulk because of an embarrassing supermarket experience��� ��� Ogechi*, 28, F

I was dead broke a few years ago when an uncle sent me ���50k. I rushed to the supermarket nearby to buy some provisions, forgetting that I���d borrowed money from the same account. I only realised that my account had been debited when I tried to pay. I had to leave the cart and walk away. I doubt people noticed, but I was so embarrassed.   

Now, whenever I have money, I overbuy essentials because running out of things makes me anxious. My house always has excessive noodles, toothpaste, and foodstuff because scarcity mentally scarred me. I���ve had situations where the food item expired unused. 

*Names have been changed for the sake of anonymity.

NEXT READ: Supporting My Family Landed Me in ���3.8 Million Debt. It Nearly Killed Me

Let���s be completely honest for a second. For many Nigerians, everything feels incredibly difficult right now. If you are feeling completely overwhelmed by just existing, we want you to know something important: It is not just you.

Many of us are trapped in the same mental loop. The statistics are alarming. The World Health Organisation (WHO) that one in eight Nigerians suffers from mental disorders. Depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), bipolar disorder and schizophrenia are the most common around here.

Mental health issues have deeply complicated, deeply personal causes. But your brain does not exist in a vacuum. It reacts to your environment. According to the WHO, like poverty, violence, disability, and inequality increase the risk of developing a mental health condition.

That���s why we���re here to tell you that Nigeria is actively messing with your head. Here���s how.

Tinubunomics ��� No Money, More Problems

Let���s look at the most consistent source of your daily headaches: your empty wallet, and the fact that you can comfortably count the digits in your bank account on one hand.

The World Bank reports that the population of Nigerians living below the poverty line has climbed from 56% in 2023 to a staggering 63% in 2025, trapping over 140 million people in absolute economic survival mode.

We all know by heart now:

• The sudden end of fuel subsidies without any structural social protections to cushion the blow
• Runaway inflation that , the .
• that left it worth a fraction of its pre-Tinubu value.
• A ���70,000 monthly minimum wage, which is practically impossible to survive on.

You are trapped in an exhausting loop where you are working harder than ever, getting paid less in real value, and unable to afford basic necessities because everything is so damn expensive.

Tinubunomics is kicking our collective behinds, and it���s actively knocking you upside the head. All that desperate, daily stressing about money keeps your body���s cortisol levels permanently spiked. When your system is flooded with prolonged, elevated cortisol, it alters your brain chemistry, .

Every single time a new bill arrives, you go into emergency fight-or-flight mode, and that constant trauma response is quietly wrecking your mind.

Violence: I See Dead People��� On My Timeline

Nigeria is one of the most dangerous places to live, and we���re not even exaggerating. The country ranks , sitting behind only Pakistan, Burkina Faso and Niger.

It is completely expected that direct victims of this violence will suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. , and the constant cycle of terrorism, banditry and kidnapping is minting new victims every single day.

But what about those who aren���t directly affected? Like you, reading this right now.

Well, you are still a witness to the madness. Reports of these violent incidents are a daily occurrence, and you cannot escape them on the news or your social media timelines. For instance, many Nigerians had to start the week after a bandit attack on schools in Oyo State.

The sheer volume of violence we consume might make us feel desensitised, but none of this is normal. Even if it starts to feel like regular everyday life, your body and your mind are not actually getting used to it.

Researchers at the New Jersey Gun Violence Research Centre media exposure to real-world violence heavily adds to the mental health burden, even ���for those not personally involved in an incident.��� According to their study, people who are regularly exposed to violent reports are .

Infrastructure ��� Nothing Works

Do you have light? Is your water running? How���s your internet connection? If you try making a quick mobile bank transfer, are you sure it will work, or is there a risk the payment won���t go through because of ���network failure?���

In Nigeria, basic things that should require zero cognitive effort act as constant tiny stressors, making even the most mundane parts of life a struggle. Once again, it���s not normal to always be on edge the way Nigeria forces you to.

Nigeria is a country with bad and broken infrastructure. The World Bank Nigeria���s total infrastructure stock as amounting to 30% of gross domestic product (GDP). This is miles away from the recommended 70% benchmark. The Bank also estimates that Nigeria will need to invest to reduce the current deficit.

The result is that nothing works. Trying to get around? Bad roads. Gridlocked traffic. Waiting hours for BRT buses. You dared to get sick? Terrible healthcare system. No medical equipment. One doctor for every ten thousand patients.

At home? You need to provide your own running water. Get a generator or solar setup to generate your own electricity. Collect Internet Service Providers like Thanos gathering infinity stones, and still lose your mind when they all somehow experience simultaneous downtimes.

You���re constantly thinking about and negotiating broken systems just to get through the day. You don���t lack mental fortitude. Nigeria is designed to exhaust you mentally. It���s a miracle if you haven���t broken already.

Politics: Expect More���?

Your timeline is full of all kinds of political discourse. Campaign flyers, reports of defections, coalitions, party primaries and consensus debates. But you look at the names, and you���ve heard all of them before.

The stagnation in our political space creates intense feelings of . How can you get excited about the future of Nigeria when it doesn���t look like anything is going to change? The same old men, with their old ideas, are wasting the lives and youth of your generation. It feels completely hopeless.

That lack of excitement and hope is exactly where the damage is done. In psychology, this is called ���the inability to experience excitement or pleasure for future events���and it is (MDD). When your brain literally cannot picture a positive future, it completely shuts down your motivation and leaves you feeling deeply pessimistic and ultimately depressed.

Only If You Let It

This particular fact is where we have the shiniest silver lining. You can actually do something about this because you still have agency here. It starts with getting your Permanent Voters Card (PVC). The current phase of the Continuous Voter Registration exercise closes on July 10, 2026. You can go to right now to pre-register before visiting an INEC office for your biometrics.

Be an active citizen and an active member of the electorate. Research political parties and candidates. If you are tired of the old guard, find fresh faces and voices that are saying what you actually want to hear and back them. Then, on election day, show up and vote. Take back your country and your mental health, because currently, the government isn���t doing enough to get you the help you need.

Mental Healthcare: Cycles of Madness

So, Nigeria is actively destroying your mental health in many different ways. This entire structural pressure cooker leads to the ultimate elephant in the room: What happens when you finally break?

The current medical landscape is terrifying.

Three years after the National Mental Health Act was , key provisions like the creation of a dedicated Mental Health Department within the Ministry of Health have still not materialised.

In 2024, the Association of Psychiatrists in Nigeria it had fewer than 250 psychiatrists serving the entire country. That is roughly one psychiatrist to about 960,000 patients.

The available therapists are way too expensive for most of the population, who also to manage their mental health conditions. To make matters worse, the National Health Insurance Authority does not explicitly cover mental health treatments in its standard benefits package.

When it comes to mental health issues, Nigerians are completely on their own. We need better mental healthcare, and that means we need a better government.

In the meantime, please ask for support when needed for yourself and those you know to be struggling. Your mental health is just as important as any other health need. Don���t wait until you break. 

If you need support, someone to talk to, or immediate help, these Nigerian mental health resources may help.

Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI) ��� Youth-focused mental health support

| Crisis support: +234 916 841 7413

She Writes Woman ��� Free teletherapy & crisis helpline

| +234 800 800 2000

SURPIN ��� Suicide prevention & crisis intervention

| 080 0078 7746

Asido Foundation ��� Emotional wellness assessments & 24/7 Helpline

| +234 902 808 0416

National Emergency Helpline: 112

We want to hear about your personal experiences that reflect how politics or public systems affect daily life in Nigeria. Share your story with us ���we���d love to hear from you!

At 25, Joshua* is navigating recovery after a long battle with substance addiction that started in university and slowly damaged his relationships, self-worth and mental health.

In this episode of On the Streets, he talks about the choices that led him down that path, the relationships he ruined along the way, and the moment he finally realised the damages in his life.

What���s your current relationship status, and how do you feel about it?

I���m single, and I think that���s for the best right now. I���ve struggled with addiction for years and only recently started making progress. It wouldn���t be fair to drag someone else into my current situation. 

How did you get to this point?

I started smoking in 2017 after I graduated from secondary school. 

I���d just gained admission into a private university, and my roommates were the cool guys on campus. I got carried away trying to fit in with them. At first, we only smoked weed on weekends to chill because the school was extremely strict.

But by my second semester, one of my roommates got high and caused trouble in the cafeteria. The school management carried out drug tests, and he snitched on the rest of us. They tested us too, and everyone who came back positive got rusticated immediately.

Wow

That period was the first real difficulty I faced in life. My parents were devastated. I stayed at home for months feeling like my life was over. Thankfully, my mum knew someone on the board of another private university, and they agreed to give me a second chance. But I had to start again from 100 level in 2019.

Sounds tough. How did starting over affect you? 

It made things worse. The new school was more relaxed, and drugs were everywhere. I also carried a lot of shame from being rusticated. My dad kept saying I���d become a failure, and his words really got to me. 

At that point, smoking stopped being fun and became my escape from how disappointed I felt in myself. 

Right. Did all of this spill into personal relationships, too? Were you even dating?

I had a thing with Esther*, we met within my first year at the new school. Her friend approached me because Esther was too shy to speak to me herself. I found that really cute.

We got talking and started dating in 2020. I hid some parts of myself from Esther because I really liked her. I lied about why I left my first university and hid the fact that I smoked.

Hmm

I feared she���d see me differently. But a friend from my former university told her the truth. She confronted me about getting rusticated, and even then, I denied it. That completely affected the trust between us.

Then the COVID lockdown happened just a few months into our relationship, and things got worse. I became emotionally distant. She���d send long messages asking what was wrong, and I���d ignore her for days because I felt ashamed about the things she knew about me.

Eventually, she got tired of my behaviour and broke up before the lockdown ended.

How did you take that?

It pushed me deeper into addiction. I started experimenting with stronger substances. I���d tell my mum I was going to a friend���s music studio, but really we were just getting high.

My mental health became terrible around that time. I was depressed all the time. I���m from a good family where all my siblings were responsible and successful, so I constantly felt like a disappointment. Every time I felt overwhelmed, I chased another high to numb it.

Most of my relationships became casual. I had a few talking stages and situationships, but  they never lasted because I avoided emotional intimacy and was very inconsistent.

In my final year, I had a terrifying experience that made me cut everyone off for a while.

What happened?

I tried colos for the first time and blacked out completely. My friends rushed me to the school clinic because they thought I was dying. The clinic found substances in my system and contacted my parents.

That incident really shook my family. My parents considered rehab, but they couldn���t afford it then. Instead, I moved out of the hostel and stayed with a family friend who kept a close eye on me. 

The school eventually pardoned me, and I graduated with a third class. It crushed me because I���d always been academically brilliant growing up.

I���m sorry. How was life after university?

I landed a job and moved to Lagos in 2023 with some friends from school. That was when things got much worse.

Living without supervision gave me complete freedom, and I abused it. I smoked every single day. Most of my salary went into substances. I���d stay up partying all night and miss work meetings the next morning because I was too high to function. Eventually, I lost my job.

Thankfully, one of my friends helped me get another job at his older brother���s company, so my parents never found out. I kept convincing myself I still had my life under control, even though I clearly didn���t.

Around that time, I met Mirabel* at a house party, and my situation worsened.

Tell me about Mirabel.

Mirabel was wild like me. I think I liked her because, for the first time,  I felt like I could be myself with someone who understood that lifestyle.

But the relationship was unhealthy from the start. We enabled each other constantly. Instead of helping me improve, the relationship normalised my bad habits.

Our fights were intense because neither of us was mentally okay. She had a lot of childhood trauma and sometimes called me crying, but by then, I���d become emotionally numb. Instead of comforting her, I���d snap at her, and it always led to more arguments. I was constantly defensive and aggressive.

Eventually, I ended things because I felt like her struggles were messing with my mental health. Looking back, she wasn���t the problem. Substance abuse had changed my personality completely.

Right. So when did you realise your addiction was affecting you?

I realised it in 2024 after I ran into a friend from university. He kept asking if I was alright because, according to him, I���d changed. I could see pity written all over his face. He was doing well and had landed a job at a popular company. That moment made me realise I was wasting my life.

I tried quitting afterwards, but withdrawal was horrible. I���d stop for a few days, relapse, then start again. It became a cycle until Faith* tried to help me.

How did you meet Faith?

We met at church. I started going because I wanted to distract myself with normal activities. After a few weeks, I noticed and approached her. Faith was different from anyone I���d ever been interested in.

She was gentle and very supportive. I told her early on that I was trying to recover from smoking, and instead of judging me, she tried to help. She became my accountability partner. She checked on me constantly and encouraged me.

Unfortunately, after a few weeks, I slipped back into my old ways and started lying to her. I started getting angry whenever she sent me articles or videos about addiction because it felt like she was judging me.

Things got worse when she found my social media accounts. I tweeted disgusting things and posted highly sexual content that completely clashed with the image she had of me.

She confronted me, but instead of listening, I lashed out at her. My friends had gotten into my head, so I called her controlling and said a lot of hurtful things. That day, she blocked me everywhere. 

We���d only been talking for three months.

That must���ve hurt

It did because she really wanted to help me. I think Faith was the first person who forced me to seriously confront my problem. But losing her only pushed me deeper into addiction. Whenever I felt pain, I ran back to smoking to numb everything.

Even then, part of me still wanted to quit. But to do that, I knew I needed to change my environment. I spent months stalling instead of leaving my friends and returning home. Then two things happened in 2025 that changed my mind completely.

What happened?

The first was realising I was becoming violent. One night, one of my friends got into an argument with our gateman. During the fight, I smashed a bottle over the man���s head. Even now, I still struggle to believe I did that. 

I grew up in a good home and got the best education, yet I behaved like a tout. That was the first time I realised I wasn���t that different from the addicts I used to judge on the streets.

The second thing was losing a friend. We used to hype him because he could take insane amounts of drugs. But eventually, he started experiencing psychosis. He became extremely aggressive, and his family forced him into rehab.

We didn���t hear from him for months and assumed he���d recover, but in October 2025, his family told us he���d overdosed and died after leaving rehab.

When I heard the news, I remember shivering from fear. For the first time, I realised I might actually die if I continued down that path.

Did that make you finally ask for help?

Yes. I couldn���t sleep for days afterwards. Eventually, I opened up to my older brother abroad, and he pushed me to come home. I followed his advice.

When I got back home, I broke down in front of my mum. I begged her never to let me return to Lagos because I knew I was losing myself.

My parents wanted rehab, but I was terrified of it. Instead, I stayed home and asked them to monitor me closely. The withdrawal was brutal. Sometimes I���d see people smoking outside, and my hands would literally start shaking.

But I���ve started improving. This year has been much better, and I���m focused on healing mentally. Some days are still difficult because I compare myself to my peers and feel like I wasted years of my life. But I try to use that feeling as motivation not to relapse.

I recently met a girl I really like, but I���m intentionally keeping things platonic. I don���t want to drag anyone into my struggles while I���m still recovering.

I���m rooting for you. What would you say your experience has taught you about how you handle relationships?

One thing I���ve learnt is that people project their pain onto others. Looking back now, I can admit I was toxic in many of my relationships because I was unhappy with myself.

I used to hate when people reduced me to my addiction, but I now know that it influenced the way I treated people. It made me dishonest and emotionally unavailable.

So before I think about love again, I want to become healthier mentally and emotionally.

Finally, how are the streets treating you these days? Rate it on a scale of 1 to 10.

I���d give it an 8/10. I���ve been detached from relationships for so long that being single doesn���t really bother me. If anything, relationships used to feel stressful because of everything I was dealing with internally.

But I don���t think I���ve ever truly experienced healthy love before. I���m excited by the possibility that when I���m in a better place, I finally will.

Read Next: I Reunited With My First Love After 36 Years, But His Children Hate Me

意鞄艶油��is returning on August 22, 2026, in Lagos! Come learn from finance experts and industry leaders, and partake in unfiltered conversations about building wealth and diversifying your income stream in a country like Nigeria.��Real stories, expert advice you can actually use, and a community ready to build wealth together.��.

���I���m still caring for my family��� ��� Bola*, 58 

I was the only child in my family who made it past primary school. Around the ���80s,my uncle visited us in Oyo and promised to take whoever had the best result back to Lagos for further schooling. I made sure it was me, and he kept his word.

That opportunity changed my life, but it also came with pressure. I became the one my family depended on, and it pushed me into a decision I regret. I married a man I didn���t love and became his second wife to ease my financial burden.

Building a life with someone I don���t like hasn���t been easy. Even now, in my late 50s, I still carry my family���s responsibilities. I care for my siblings��� children and support them financially. It���s exhausting. Sometimes I feel resentful, but anytime I try to step back, they call me ungrateful and remind me  how privileged I was.

���I���m afraid of falling into addiction like my siblings��� ��� John*, 28

Two of my older brothers struggled with drug addiction while I was growing up, and my parents were determined I wouldn���t end up like them. They were extremely strict, and I internalised that pressure.

I became cautious about everything. In university, I avoided friendships and social situations because I was scared of being influenced. I don���t let myself indulge in anything because I���m afraid of addiction.

I once cut out sugar because I panicked over my consumption of soft drinks. That was when I realised how deeply this fear had taken over me. I���m always on edge and it���s exhausting.

���My family refuses to prioritise my career��� ��� Aisha*, 24

My parents are deeply religious, and I grew up doing everything right. I loved my faith, and in many ways, they built their expectations of me around that.

After I graduated with a first class, I wanted to focus on my career, but marriage came next. My father, an imam, introduced me to a man from the mosque. I didn���t feel strongly about him, but I went along because it felt like the right thing to do.

We got married after a few months of knowing each other. I planned to start my career afterwards, but I got pregnant almost immediately, and everything paused.

Now I have a newborn, and I struggle to balance being a good mother, wife and daughter. I���ve been feeling low and trapped. I looked it up and believe I may be dealing with postpartum depression. I wouldn���t have chosen this life so early but I did it to please everyone and be the good child.

���I���m in a career I don���t want��� ��� Samuel*, 19

I���m my parents��� only surviving child. My siblings died at infancy from sickle cell, so everything they couldn���t be has been placed on me. My parents love me, but it comes with a lot of pressure. I���ve grown up feeling like I can���t afford to fail because I���ve been given the life they didn���t get. 

I���ve always been creative and wanted to study fine arts, but my parents pushed me to study law because it was my dad���s dream. I���ve felt a blanket of sadness since I got the admission.

I���m resuming school in a few months and it fills me with anxiety. I know I���m about to waste years chasing a career I don���t want.

���I sacrificed my education for my brother��� ��� Jessica*, 26

I���m the first of six children, and I���ve been responsible for my siblings for as long as I can remember. I just completed  NYSC and I���m barely earning enough to get by, yet I pay my youngest sibling���s school fees. I can���t even be honest about how much I make because the expectation is that I take on more.

I had to stop at OND because my parents couldn���t afford to send both me and my younger brother to school when he got into university. I���m still bitter about it, and at the same time, I feel guilty for even feeling that way.

My life has been one long stretch of sacrifices, and it���s overwhelming. I get sad thinking about how I���m supposed to build my own life while carrying my family along. 

���Caring for my sick wife is overwhelming��� ��� Charis*, 44

My wife was diagnosed with aphasia in 2022, and since then, life hasn���t been the same. I now care for her and our children, while going on like everything is fine.  On some days, I feel like she���s a burden, and I hate myself for thinking that because I know it���s not her fault. But the responsibility feels heavy. I���m overwhelmed and depressed.  I wonder how long I can keep going.

���I���m tired of motherhood��� ��� Joy*, 32

I don���t enjoy being a mother, and that���s something I struggle to admit.

My husband works offshore, so I���m mostly raising our three children alone. When he���s around, I still take care of him too. It feels like I���m constantly working without getting a break.

I can see it affecting how I treat my children. People say I���m too hard on them, but it���s just a reaction to burn out.

Now, my husband wants a fourth child to ���complete��� our family. I can���t even imagine it.  I know I can���t go through that again, I need to protect my mental health.

���My parents expect me to take on the bills��� ��� Idris*, 24

I landed my first job in 2025 earning ��� 120k. From the moment I started working, I became responsible for most of the household expenses. It was expected since I���m the oldest child at home.

Most times, I barely have anything left for myself after sorting out the bills, not even transport money. When I try to explain that I���m struggling, they call me selfish.

I don���t want to move out because it hurt them when my siblings left, but staying is draining me mentally and financially. I worry that if this continues, I���ll start resenting them.

���I moved across the country to escape my family��� ��� Faith*, 25

As the first daughter, responsibility always fell on me, while my brothers weren���t held to the same standards. When my parents had surprise twins while I was still in secondary school, I became their second mum. I  skipped school on many occasions just to care for them.

When I got into university, I avoided home as much as I could. The thought of breaks gave me anxiety. After graduating, I made sure my NYSC posting was far away. My parents didn���t take it well and think I���m distancing myself, but I don���t really care anymore.

It���s changed how I see my future. I don���t want children because I feel like I���ve already raised enough. Even relationships scare me because I worry I���ll end up parenting a partner too.

���I���ve become a people���s pleaser��� ��� Precious*, 31

I was a brilliant child growing up and my parents placed all their hopes on me. Somewhere along the way, I became a people pleaser. I started lying to keep up an image. At first it was small things, but it quickly became a habit. I lied about what I was doing just to avoid disappointing my parents.

Even as an adult, I still struggle with it. I catch myself impulsively pleasing people and I���ve lost relationships and friendships because of it. I hate that part of myself, and I���m trying to change, but it���s difficult. I���ve spent so long protecting an image that I don���t know how to be myself.

Need support? Here are some Nigerian mental health resources that may help.

Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI) ��� Youth-focused mental health support

| Crisis support: +234 916 841 7413

SURPIN ��� Suicide prevention & crisis intervention

| 080 0078 7746

National Emergency Helpline: 112

Despite the laws that have been passed, growing public interest in taking mental health seriously, and renewed government attention, mental healthcare is still mostly inaccessible to the average citizen in 2026.

In this piece, we���ll probe why that is and what it means for the average Nigerian. 

Mental health in Nigeria

of Nigerians are living with some form of mental illness. That is roughly one in four people. Depression and anxiety are among the most common, but the spectrum runs wider than most people acknowledge, from burnout to stress psychosis and PTSD.

The burden falls unevenly across gender lines. Depression and anxiety disorders occur at as in men. Postpartum depression is common but wildly underdiagnosed, particularly compared to conditions that more visibly affect men. Sexual violence, which is prevalent in Nigeria and disproportionately targets women, frequently leads to PTSD; women are twice as likely as men to develop the condition. Yet because many of these experiences go unreported and the healthcare system offers little support, many people are left suffering in silence.

Substance use is another dimension of the crisis that rarely gets named alongside mental health conversations, even though the two are deeply connected. Many Nigerians turn to substances as coping mechanisms when emotional support is unavailable, unaffordable, or stigmatised. Burnout, driven by economic pressure and unstable infrastructure, seems to have become a .

Do something with these laws

In January 2023, President Muhammadu Buhari the National Mental Health Act of 2021 into law, marking a historic moment that replaced the 1916 Lunacy Act that governed mental health policy in Nigeria for over a century. The new law was established to protect the rights of people with mental health conditions, prioritise voluntary treatment, and signal a shift toward a modern, humane approach to mental healthcare.

As is common with the implementation and adoption of laws in Nigeria, only two states,�� Lagos and Ekiti, have the act as of May 2026, but key provisions, like the establishment of a dedicated Mental Health Department, remain unimplemented. The Federal Ministry of Health (FMoH) has also not provided any updates on when this department will be created, and there is no mention of it on its website.

One doctor to one million patients 

According to the Association of Psychiatrists in Nigeria (APN), as of 2024, Nigeria had fewer than serving a population of over 200 million. The psychiatrist-to-patient ratio is 1 psychiatrist per 10,000 patients. Yet, with Nigeria’s at 240 million, the ratio currently stands at 1 psychiatrist to 960,000 patients. 

This shortage is a result of decades of underfunding medical education and a near-total absence of strong mental health infrastructure in both urban and rural areas of the country. Public like the Yaba Psychiatric Hospital in Lagos, Aro Neuropsychiatric Hospital in Abeokuta, and the Federal Neuropsychiatric Hospital in Kaduna, are designed to handle the most severe cases, and the numbers show they are already overwhelmed.

If you find a therapist, can you afford them? 

Private therapy sessions in cities like Lagos and Abuja cost ���15,000 to ���50,000 per session, with each lasting about 45 to 60 minutes. Online therapy services offer more competitive pricing, typically ranging from ���8,000 to ���25,000 per session, and some offer subscription tiers.

Nigeria’s minimum wage is ���70,000 per month, and a single therapy session could consume half of that. For most Nigerians, particularly those outside Lagos and Abuja, or those in the informal economy,  consistent quality therapy is simply not a financial possibility.

Health insurance does not close the gap. The does not explicitly cover mental health treatments in its standard benefits package. Mental healthcare is almost entirely an out-of-pocket expense for Nigerians who can afford it. 

All talk but no workings 

There are signs that the federal government understands the scale of the problem and its importance, even if action has been slow.

The Chairman of the NHIA, Senator Ibrahim Yahaya Oloriegbe, for a dedicated ���4 billion mental health fund in Nigeria’s 2026 budget, specifically to improve access for vulnerable groups amid rising rates of substance abuse and suicide.

But attempted suicide is still a crime in Nigeria. A person who survives a suicide attempt can, by law, be imprisoned for up to one year. 

The federal government in September 2025 that it intends to decriminalise attempted suicide via amendments to the Mental Health Act, which, when approved, will be set for presentation as an Executive Bill. That process was supposed to be by December 2025, but it has not been.

���They will say I���m possessed���

Policy gaps and funding shortfalls are measurable, but you see stigma and social conditioning? Those are harder to quantify, but still very much real.

A 2020 conducted by professors at Northwestern University, Chicago, on mental health stigma among university healthcare students in Nigeria, suggests that stigma and label avoidance are significant barriers to mental healthcare in Nigeria. Seeking therapy is still widely read, in many Nigerian communities, as an admission that something is fundamentally broken about you. 

Nigeria, being a deeply religious country, also contributes to this floating stigma. Religious frequently interpret mental illnesses through a spiritual lens, labelling them as demonic attacks, curses, or punishment for sin, which in turn leads to a prioritisation of prayer and deliverance over medical care. 

The same Northwestern study corroborates this claim. Among the respondents, 92.68% stated they would pray sometimes when feeling depressed or anxious. Nearly a quarter (24.69%) of respondents say mental illness is sometimes caused by sin, and 21.95% believe evil spirits sometimes cause mental illness.

Perhaps this tells what happens when a healthcare system fails so thoroughly that spiritual intervention becomes the only, seemingly viable, accessible alternative.

Are you listening?

The ���4 billion fund, if approved and properly administered, would be meaningful. The decriminalisation of suicide attempts, when it finally happens, will matter. Still, neither of those things will mean much to someone who cannot afford a single session, cannot find a provider in their state, or cannot tell their family they are struggling without risking their reputation.

The conversation about mental health in Nigeria has never been louder. The question for 2026 is whether the government is listening well enough to act and fast enough for the people who cannot afford to wait.