My Season of Withdrawal and the Beauty of Eremition

I was told I gave a little too much of myself, and honestly, the signs were there. Since that time, and after dealing with some spiritual warfare, I’ve locked it up… meaning me. I’ve shut myself down, tucked myself away, and built a fortress so strong it may as well have a security system.

Let me explain..

I keep my circle small on purpose. Honestly? “Most” people are either needy, dishonest, or just plain exhausting…and usually, it’s all three. If someone tells me they “like everyone,” I don’t see kindness; I see a massive 🚩red flag. And if everyone likes them? That’s an even bigger ⚠️warning sign. If you don’t have a few haters, are you even doing it right? Fake people are universally loved, and I can spot them a mile away.

I’m not buying the “friend to everyone” act. If you’re a real one and you tell me you don’t like Judy just because you don’t-no fluff, no drama-I trust you ten times more than the person claiming to be best friends with the entire neighborhood. Let’s be real: nobody actually likes everyone. Sure, we’re called to love everyone as God’s children, but let’s look at the facts, Judy leaves her dog outside all night, and I don’t like her either. Do I love her? Yes. Is it hard? Absolutely. But I would recuse her dog before her… just being honest.

After years of traveling, living in different states, and navigating every kind of neighborhood, I’ve come to a harsh realization: most people aren’t actually “good.” They’re just performing. It’s not necessarily that they’re villains, but they are incredibly fake, and that usually stems from a desperate, misplaced desire to look good more than true goodness itself. At its core, it’s a heart problem. They care so much about the outside that the inside is left to wither. It’s a contagious, poisonous disease, and if you aren’t careful, even with the best intentions… you’ll catch it. But it doesn’t manifest the way you think.

See, I’m different🤓, and I’m fully aware of it. I have one of those personalities that is just… well, awkward. You can bet money that if there’s an uncomfortable or weird thing to say in a room, I’ll be the one to say it. I also live in oversized clothes, which only enhances my inherent lack of grace. I’m not a big person, just an average 5’4″ but I love being swallowed up in huge hoodies and baggy pants. They keep me safe from prying eyes. My long, dark hair helps shield me from the world, too. All these layers might look unnecessary on such a small frame, but they make me feel like me: awkward, strange, and entirely unbothered. 🙃

Do other forty-something mothers dress like this? No. Do I care? Also no. Does it make me likable? Nope…not even a little. (Maybe a bit scary) I’ve known my whole life that I was different… not really fitting in, and not just because of my style (or lack), but because of what was going on inside. I’m a thinker. I see things, I process things, and I have a personality that isn’t exactly designed for mass appeal. After dealing with “myself for so long… I used to make “being unlikable” my entire identity, but now? I’m okay with me. People still for reason gravitate to me and spill the beans. I didn’t have to change a thing. I don’t fake my thoughts to blend in; I speak my mind or I just Irish good-bye out there.

My faith is one of those things I have shared boldly, and I honestly don’t care what people think about it. I want people to know Jesus and know where I stand with Him!

But let me get back on track. When you’re the type of person who can read a room the second you walk into it, the noise becomes exhausting, draining, and, frankly, distracting. I’m not a big talker, which unfortunately makes me the designated “ear” for everyone else. Yeah, I know all the secrets on the street. Don’t worry… I won’t be the person who writes about them, even though I’m sure my blog numbers would skyrocket if I did. But I won’t! 🤫

The kicker is nobody ever really asked about my life. So, whenever I did speak, I’d end up over-explaining everything, only to feel like an absolute idiot afterward. Cringe. I found myself trapped in this weird cycle: I was the designated diary, the cleanup crew, and the designated safe space for everyone to relax and unravel. I know the messy details of their marriages, their ups and downs, and their hidden struggles, but I couldn’t have a single deep, meaningful conversation with any of them. Which I am honored to be that person for them. It’s a privilege to be trusted and I wouldn’t break that trust, but it does break a person down when they are as empathic as me. I wonder was the goal always just to get drunk and vent, and since I don’t drink much at all, I was just the background character in their show.

When I look back at all the birthday celebrations I’ve helped put together and the nights, I spent playing therapist and janitor, it all starts to blur together. It wasn’t one specific moment that set the tone; it was years of realizing that while I was carrying their burdens, they didn’t actually want to hear from me… not really. I was there to listen, but never to be heard. It was always going to have limits. I had my role. Eventually, it just hit me: Mm, I think I’m at the wrong table.

It makes me a little sad to think about, I guess. I know, everyone is going through a lot. We’re all just out here trying to keep our heads above water, right? But the reality is, they know everything about their own struggles and absolutely nothing about life outside themselves unless it was gossip. That grosses me out.

 I woke up one morning and something had shifted. I couldn’t keep doing this anymore. I felt distant from Jesus, I didn’t feel right around my “company or my placement” and my own home no longer felt like a sanctuary. I knew something had to change. After the boys left for work that morning, I sat on the couch and cried out to Him. I wasn’t even sure what was wrong at first, only that I felt blocked, held back, and profoundly alone. I had been picking up on things in my company and my environment that felt “off” in my spirit, and it was suffocating me. That morning, God and I had a long, honest conversation. While those words were for us alone, the heart of it was simple: I had been so busy carrying everyone else’s needs, or simple dealing with plain ruddiness that I’d become distracted from my own priorities, my blessings, and my purpose.

On top of that, I had picked up other people’s unhappy mess, and it had gotten all over me. It left me depressed, discouraged, cynical, and negative. It even made me look at the things that I love; my husband, my work, my family, and my home-with an attitude that they somehow weren’t worth it of having or caring for. As if I could not praise them and be speak thankfully of them without a downward glare. And that is exactly what I mean when I say it’s a contagious disease.

“Do not be deceived: ‘Bad company corrupts good morals’”. 1 Corinthians 15:33

“Whoever walks with the wise becomes wise, but the companion of fools will suffer harm”. Proverbs 13:20 

My point is this: I love my life. I love teaching my daughter, taking care of our home, and working as a sub at the local Catholic school. I have a husband who isn’t perfect, but he’s pretty close, and my kids… while also not perfect are honestly top-tier. They love Jesus, they’re deep thinkers, and they have huge hearts. They think for themselves, even when that looks different from how I think, and I’m more than okay with that. I am so incredibly blessed to have a partner who somehow finds my “oddness” endearing.

But there’s a trap in keeping the wrong company. You shouldn’t be around anyone who makes you feel like you can’t celebrate your life. If you’re happy about your marriage, you shouldn’t have to dim that light. Loving your spouse and living a life of peace isn’t “bragging”… it’s just being grateful. Have you ever been around a friend who speaks lovingly about their spouse? Pay attention to the people around them. Sometimes you can see them cringe, or you can feel the air leave the room. But try to look at the person they’re talking about instead. I bet your heart will skip a beat for them. ❤️

Now, I want to tell you a secret, though it’s not really a secret at all: the reverse is also true. Just as drama and complaining are a poisonous, contagious disease, the spirit of humility, prayer, and honest love is contagious, too. And let me tell you, that kind of love is way more powerful.

This is exactly why I’ve taken intentional steps to clear my space and align myself fully with Jesus. It meant clearing out the distractions and the “grossness” of my former circle. The first thing I did was admit that I’m not strong enough for social media right now. It was too much for my empathic heart, so I’m taking a break. Honestly, I have no clue how long that break will be. All my creative outlets are still going and connected; you’ll still get my writing and my pins, but I personally won’t be there. I’m stepping off every platform except for this space right here and my Bible app.

The second thing? I’ve stopped taking most calls. I talk to two people… maybe three, and even that is pushing it. Those few are in my circle of trust, and if I’m being completely honest, I really only trust one of them. Even my text conversations have been limited to a simple👍🏼. It isn’t me being rude; it’s me refusing to over-explain myself. Does it even matter? Probably not.

Lastly, I’ve drawn a line in the sand: if you don’t like me, my husband, or my kids, I don’t like you, and I won’t be around you. If I do happen to be in your presence, it’s 100% a favor for someone else I do actually like.

My circle is tiny now, and if I give you my time, you should appreciate it. Time is priceless after all, and we can’t get it back. Still, I’ll always be kind because I have a “Jesus’ heart,” but let’s remember something: that same Jesus also had the fire to toss the tables in the temple when He saw things that didn’t belong in His Father’s house. I’m carrying that same spirit. I’ll keep my heart soft, but if you bring the toxicity, don’t be surprised when I simply disappear from your life. ✌🏼

Mentally, emotionally, and physically, things have been rigid but that’s what happens when Jesus gives you a wakeup call. Things are in order, and frankly, everything cleared up once we finally saw the writing on the wall. We started moving forward and handling some much-needed business. But then, something happened. I started to feel… odd. Not just my normal “weird,” but deeply off. A few days later, I had a bad seizure. I knew it was my brain and body finally resetting after all the stress and the overload of everything, so, in a way, I wasn’t even surprised. These little, annoying attacks happen, but we’re getting through them, and I’m hopeful that in the next few months, I’ll be reaching for new skylines.

When times like this happen, when the attacks seem to come from every direction…my awkwardness feels magnified, as if a spotlight is shining directly on it. Yet even as I feel more isolated than ever, my heart is more passionate than it has ever been. The deep, aching cry I have for a broken world is stronger than ever, even when it is being mocked. That is how I know I am a threat to the enemy. The whispers, the dirty looks, and the jokes only confirm it. I am, without a doubt, chosen. So, I keep my head up.

So, I say this with a fierce, bold voice… spoken in love, but with the authority of what I believe God has called us to: “Different, quiet, ‘feelers’-stay close to Jesus.” He is moving us and using us; even if we don’t know exactly what we are doing, we can be confident in the why: Jesus. That feeling of not fitting in? That’s because we don’t fit in. We don’t belong here. This isn’t our home, and it never was. I long for that ultimate comfort, but until then, let’s keep our hope, joy, and prayer strong, knowing we are God’s warriors in the quiet places.

So, be okay with the assignment. Embrace eremition. Fade away, let the renewal happen, and let God work in you, guide you, and assign you. It is a form of protection and a unique kind of leadership; one we don’t always understand in the moment, but one we must honor.

Celebrate the life you have, whatever that looks like, and glorify Jesus instead of hiding Him. Don’t just perform peace but embody it. It is truly both a beautiful and painful gift to be called as one of His chosen. It’s a worthy calling.

Woven in the Fabric

This writing and this unfolding journey are beautifully woven into the fabric of grace. Every thread tells a story of God’s faithfulness, even in the messy and uncertain parts.

I want to be real with you. My writing journey and walk with Jesus is both beautiful and broken, stitched together with moments of grace and surrender. Each part of the story is unpredictable, yet somehow, always held by His steady hands. I don’t always know where this path is leading or what Jesus is writing next, but I trust where He leads.

What you find here is shared from an honest heart, prayerfully written, rooted in Jesus, and offered with the hope that it will speak encouragement right where you are.

I want you to see the real me here, the authentic, unpolished side, scars and all. Nothing about this space is about perfection; it’s about connection, restoration, and drawing closer to Jesus together. We walk this path one step at a time, unashamed and surrounded by grace.

You can find more reflections on the blog, and follow along on Instagram and Pinterest for daily inspiration and updates.

This journey keeps unfolding, one step at a time, and I’m deeply grateful to walk it with you. If you’d like to stay connected, please subscribe or reach out through fabricthatmademe.com.

Together, let’s keep celebrating how God weaves His goodness into every thread of our lives.

-Skelly 🤍