Solitude sought

I've reached a beautiful place in life where I desire nothing more than the peace that comes with silence. I no longer feel the need to be seen. I no longer need everyone to understand me. I simply want to be still. Honestly, I consider it a gift. In these quiet moments, I'm able to appreciate how far I've come and reflect on the grace that carried me here in the first place. As someone who could somehow make an enemy while standing in a corner minding my own business, I've learned to genuinely enjoy my own company (with my girls, of course 😂).

As I step into this new chapter, I plan to go a little deeper into the things that bring me peace, purpose, and growth, including:

Jesus Often Sought Solitude

• Luke 5:16

  "But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed."

• Mark 1:35

  "Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed."

Quietness and Rest

• Psalm 46:10

  "Be still, and know that I am God."

• Isaiah 30:15

  "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength."

Solitude for Reflection

• Lamentations 3:28

  "Let him sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on him."

• Psalm 4:4

  "Meditate within your heart on your bed, and be still."

God Meeting People in Solitary Places

• Exodus 3:1–4

  Moses encountered God while alone tending sheep in the wilderness.

• 1 Kings 19:11–13

  Elijah heard God's gentle voice when he was alone on the mountain.

A Time for Everything

• Ecclesiastes 3:1

  "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens."

This reminds us that there are seasons for fellowship and seasons for solitude.

A verse many people who enjoy solitude find especially meaningful is:

Psalm 62:1"Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him."

I've reached contentment and now seek God in these quiet times. Solitude can be a gift when it leads to peace, prayer, reflection, and spiritual growth.

The Loneliness of Being Needed by Everyone

There’s a kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. The kind that settles into your chest quietly over time. The kind that comes from constantly being needed, constantly making decisions, constantly carrying emotional weight for everyone around you while slowly realizing no one is carrying you. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness — not the obvious kind. Not physical isolation. But the kind that can exist in a full house. The kind where you spend your days answering questions, solving problems, calming emotions, managing schedules, holding routines together, and making sure everyone else feels safe… while your own inner world grows quieter and quieter. Motherhood has a way of demanding every piece of you. And while there is so much beauty in loving your children deeply, there are also moments where you look up and realize you haven’t heard your own voice clearly in a long time.

You become efficient.

Responsible.

Reliable.

But underneath all of that, there’s still a person asking:Who takes care of me emotionally? I think emotional exhaustion is hard to explain because from the outside, life can look completely normal. You still show up. You still handle things. You still love people well. But internally, you feel like you’re running on fumes. Sometimes the only real peace comes when the world finally quiets down long enough for you to sleep. That realization scared me a little at first. Not because I wanted to disappear — but because I missed feeling emotionally present in my own life while awake.

I missed softness. Stillness. Connection. Ease.

I think many women, especially mothers, silently carry this feeling for years. We become so accustomed to surviving that we forget we are allowed to want more than survival. We are allowed to want support. Partnership. Understanding. Rest that exists outside of unconsciousness. I think the hardest part is that emotional loneliness doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it sounds like irritability. Sometimes numbness. Sometimes withdrawal. Sometimes simply saying, “Whatever,” because you’re too tired to keep explaining yourself. I’m learning that exhaustion deserves attention before it becomes resentment. I’m learning that peace is not supposed to feel unreachable during waking hours.

The sad honesty within constantly abandoning your own needs to maintain harmony is that eventually it creates a different kind of chaos within yourself. More than anything, I’m making a commitment to save myself.

Not in a dramatic way. Not by running away from my life or the people I love. But by finally understanding that I cannot continue sacrificing myself in the name of keeping everything else together. I want to return to the version of me that feels alive while awake.The version of me that laughs without forcing it.The version of me that doesn’t constantly feel emotionally underwater.

Saving myself looks like honesty. Boundaries. Rest. Speaking up before resentment settles in. Allowing myself to need support instead of pretending I can carry everything alone. It means no longer abandoning myself just because everyone else needs something from me. For so long, I believed strength meant enduring. Holding it together. Staying quiet. Pushing through exhaustion without complaint.

Maybe real strength is choosing not to disappear inside your own life.

Maybe it’s choosing yourself before you completely lose yourself. So if you’ve been feeling emotionally tired lately — deeply tired — this is your reminder that your exhaustion is real, even if no one else fully sees it. You are not weak for needing rest. You are not selfish for wanting emotional support. And you are not failing because carrying everything has become heavy. Maybe healing starts with finally admitting:“I can’t keep pouring from an empty place.”

And maybe that honesty is not the beginning of falling apart. Maybe it’s the beginning of finally returning to yourself.

I’m Not Who I Used to Be—and I’m Learning to Be Okay With That

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I’m not the same person I used to be.

And for a while, that felt uncomfortable to admit.

Before becoming a mom, I had more time. More freedom. More space to think about what I wanted, when I wanted. Now everything feels different.

My priorities have shifted. My time is limited. My energy gets pulled in a hundred directions and sometimes, I miss who I used to be.

It feels strange toogling between being a mother of two and the acheivment chaser I once was. It's almost as if all of my goals dried but one. I only live to give my girls the best start possible. My desire to grow businesses vanished. My thoughts of being an active community leader (like my father) are gone. I don't need to been seen on stages. My crowns are dust collectors now. It once felt natural to lead but with time, I've discovered such a peace in the shadows.

There’s a weird mix of emotions that comes with that.

Gratitude for where I am…and quiet grief for what’s changed. I don’t think we talk about that enough. You can love your life and still feel that loss.

You can be thankful and still feel overwhelmed. Both can exist at the same time. What I’ve been learning is that I don’t have to choose between who I was and who I am now. I’m allowed to evolve. To grow into someone different. I'm allowed to let go of parts of myself that don’t fit anymore—and keep the ones that still do. It’s not about “getting back” to who I was. It’s about getting to know who I am now and being okay with that version… even if she’s still figuring things out.

Honestly, I think that’s where most of us are. Somewhere in between who we were and who we’re becoming.

And that’s not a bad place to be.

It’s just a real one.