I don’t care, but maybe I do?

Published December 7, 2012 by Malia

I’m going home this weekend for one night.  There is actually a logical explanation for why I’m going to make a 1,000 mile round trip in approximately 34 hours.  Suffice it to say, it’s a good thing I’m going, even though it’s for one night, because it’ll allow me to take a load of belongings home.

Home.

What a mixture of emotions that thought conjures up.

I’m both excited and terrified of going.  I have such wonderful pipe dream plans of things I hope to accomplish, and yet I find myself obsessing over the fact that I’m going home with no job.  Yes, there are a few places that have indicated interest in possibly employing me (which is more than I had the last time I was unemployed), but there’s such a terror in the unknown.

I keep telling myself that I’m a strong young woman, and I don’t care a fig what everyone else thinks.  This is progress.  Even though a small part of me does care, I’ve at least reached a point where I can say out loud “I don’t care” and 99% mean it.  I think no matter how much we don’t care, secretly we all somewhat have that 1% of desire for approval from others.

I am truly looking forward to seeing my “niece” more than once every 4 months.  Babies grow fast.  I always knew that, but it’s really hitting home with me now that I have this little girl in my life.  She’s so precious, and I just melt when I’m around her.  That’s never really happened for me before with a baby.  I grew up an only child, and babies just weren’t a big part of my life.  As I’ve gotten older, I’ve shied away from being around babies.  I think this is mainly due to the fact that when I see a baby, it hurts something deep inside.  It’s this reminder that much as I desire to be a wife and mother (not because I’m wishing I was a 50’s housewife, but because I want to love and nurture), to this point those are things I’ve been denied.  I’ve avoided babies trying to protect myself, and it’s not just babies.

I’ve come to realize that in the last 10 years I’ve built up quite the wall around my heart.  The building has been slow going.  At first, whenever something hurt, or I was rejected, I’d put in another brick.  Then, I began ending things before they could hurt me, which meant there were more bricks being placed around my heart.  I did try, a few times, to take a chance on various things, but all ended in disaster, and  I went from using bricks to welding a metal shield around my heart.  When I was home at Thanksgiving, and I saw baby girl, I realized just how much I’ve sealed my heart off.

I’m going to try, very hard, to remove the shield, and undo the bricks.  I don’t want to be a heartless old hag.  I want to love and be loved.  I want to be able to love and accept myself, even with the laundry list of faults I know I have.  I’m not going to be perfect at it, but I’m going give it my best, and that’s all I can hope to do.

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