There’s something I’ve finally come to accept about myself: I am safest when I’m inward. For most of my life, I’ve tried to reach outward; to connect, to love, to trust, to belong, and each time, I’ve been reminded that not everyone deserves access to my energy. I used to think that was loneliness talking, but now I understand it’s wisdom. I’ve spent years trying to make sense of why I never fully felt at ease around people. Even as a child, I carried an uneasy feeling around men. I didn’t have the language for it back then, but I know now it came from experiences that stole my innocence too soon. That kind of wound doesn’t just disappear; it reshapes the way you view the world. Growing up, every encounter I had with a man seemed to drain something out of me. I gave too much of myself, and always walked away empty. And it wasn’t just men. I had my share of painful experiences with women too; jealousy, competition, manipulation. I’ve seen it all. For some reason, I always made people uncomfortable just by being comfortable in my own skin.

But through it all, there was one place where I always felt safe: In my solitude.

As a teenager, I used to sneak away to a quiet spot behind the projects where I grew up. It was a stretch of railroad tracks hidden behind trees near the famous T.K Harty’s (good story; look it up) in Athens, GA. I’d sit there for hours, just thinking, dreaming, breathing. That’s where I found peace. While everyone else was playing outside, I was “outside” in a different way; outside the noise, outside the expectations, outside the chaos. That’s how I got my nickname growing up: “Outside”.

And the truth is, that girl never left. She just grew up and realized that peace still lives in the quiet. Even in marriage, I used to feel a sense of calm when my spouse left for work. I wasn’t lonely; I was relieved. Those moments of stillness were when I could finally hear myself again. It took me years to realize it, but my soul has always needed that space. Even dating after separation and divorce has proven to be quite intriguing…..I’ve been called indecisive, distant, standoffish. I’ve been told I don’t know what I want. But I know exactly what I want; I just no longer trust easily and I am unavailable to be hurt again.. Every time I’ve opened myself up to the wrong people, I’ve been left bruised. So this next season of my life is about protecting my peace at all costs. I will call it my Proverbs 4:23 season. “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” That verse reminds me that my heart is sacred ground. Not everyone should be allowed to walk on it. 

I’ve realized I can’t keep giving out pieces of myself to people who haven’t earned the right to hold them. Whether it’s friends, family, or relationships. I have drained myself through endless giving, nurturing, and loving. The only lesson I have learned is that giving, nurturing, and loving do not always lead to appreciation from others. I’ve come to understand that not everyone’s energy aligns with mine, and when I recognize this, I shouldn’t continue to give, nurture, or try to fix things. Instead, I should walk away immediately, whether it involves family, friends, or relationships, because I honestly have nothing left to offer. I have finally reached the point where my cup is empty for others. It is unfortunate, but we live in a world that glorifies connection, attention, and constant communication. Everyone’s chasing validation, likes, and love that looks perfect online. But behind those smiles, so many people are quietly miserable. I used to compare my relationships to others, thinking maybe I was missing something. Now I know the truth: I wasn’t missing anything. I was just trying to build something real in a world full of facades.

I’ve been married twice; once for five years, once for nine… and I’ve loved deeply in both. But I’ve also learned that love should never cost you your peace. If I could share one piece of advice with my 20-year-old self, it would be to walk away at the first sign if a red flag; no matter how much I love the person. It feels painful, and honestly, walking away from someone you love, especially after a long time, is meant to be a heart-wrenching experience. Losing my grandmother and then my father taught me that pain can shape you or it can sink you. I chose to let it prune me. Every painful experience has stripped away a version of me that was too trusting, too open, too eager to please. What’s left now is a woman who finally understands that sometimes God hides you for a reason. And in this hidden place, I’m also learning forgiveness. I don’t carry anger anymore. I’ve separated what my children’s fathers did to me from who they are as parents. Whatever happened between us as partners no longer matters to me, because that chapter is closed. What matters now is my children’s happiness. So I choose to be cordial, to communicate with respect, and to focus on the only thing that truly connects us; our kids. My two older boys’ father and I have been doing well for over a year now, and I think it’s because we finally learned the importance of mutual respect. We make it about the kids, not the past. That’s growth, and I quietly celebrate that victory.

In fact, I’ve learned to celebrate alot of my victories in silence lately. Everything good happening in my life right now; every blessing, every goal reached, every door opening… I’m keeping between me and God. Some things are sacred. Whether it’s a win, a mistake, or a lesson, it’s nobody’s business but mine. I share what I choose, but I do so with energetic boundaries, because people can be quick to judge. The moment you open up, everyone has an opinion; “If it were me, I’d do this.” “If I were you, I’d do that.” I’m done allowing external opinions to overshadow my own. This year, I’ve let outside voices create confusion, sway my relationships, and make me question my identity and desires. In 2025, those external influences have been overwhelmingly loud, altering my perspective on how I should share my goals or my life experiences . Regardless of my choices, there will always be someone with an opinion or an issue regarding them. There are some relatives I’ve chosen not to share my personal life with anymore, and a few long-term friendships I’ve had to walk away from. Some of those friendships go back to high school, even one with a male best friend I’ve known since I was nine years old. But I had to be honest with myself… sometimes you simply outgrow people. You outgrow places. You outgrow versions of yourself that no longer fit. I’ve outgrown a lot of people who are still stuck in the same place they were ten or twenty years ago. I don’t want to surround myself with stagnant energy anymore. Stagnant people can’t celebrate your growth; they often resent it. And I can feel that. I can feel when congratulations are hollow, when smiles hide envy. So I’ve chosen peace over proximity. I’ve chosen distance over forced loyalty.

People often ask me, “Why don’t you answer your phone? Why don’t you text back? Am I blocked?” The truth is, I just don’t want to. Sometimes I have no desire to interact with people at all. Humans can be judgmental, disappointing, and inconsistent; and that’s okay. Because I’ve made peace with my solitude. The few I do allow near me, I keep energy boundaries strong. I don’t give anyone my all anymore, because not everyone deserves it.

So as 2025 unfolds and I prepare to walk into 2026, I’m silencing all the noise. I only want to hear a few voices: God’s, mine, and a select few I trust. That’s it. If I need private or non-judgmental guidance, I’ll do what I’ve always done… go to God, ask Him to show me the way, and wait. He always does. Sometimes it’s through a dream, sometimes it’s something I see while I’m driving, or something random someone says that hits my spirit. Either way, the answer always finds me. I’m in my pruning season, listening more than speaking, forgiving more than explaining, loving without needing anything in return. My focus is simple: my children, my book, my peace, my healing, and my God. I refuse to ignore my intuition again. I refuse to live in unforgiveness. I refuse to pour into people who drain or deceive.

Like I said in my last post, you’ll still hear from me here and there as I finish editing Unveiled: The Secrets That Saved Me. The editing process is emotional; it stirs up memories and feelings I thought I had already healed from. Writing these blogs helps me release what I feel so I can move forward lighter. So yes, I’ll still share a few pieces now and then, but for the most part, I’m deep in my writing cave; still focused on deadlines, details, and God. People think writing a book is simple, but it’s not. It’s long, tedious, emotional, and sometimes exhausting. But it’s worth every tear and every late night. Because Unveiled: The Secrets That Saved Me will be the book where readers finally say, “Now I understand her. I get it.” I’m not saving my image; I’m telling my truth. All of it.

And for once in my life, I’m not afraid to stay inward. That’s where I’ve always been happiest. That’s where forgiveness found me. That’s where God always meets me.

Until He tells me otherwise, that’s exactly where I’m going to stay.