I'm not here to be liked.

Something has been aching so uncomfortably in me. I took my ache out for a walk in the woods and listened. Here’s what I learned:

Your early life was all about tuning in to the people you had to take care of, placate, figure out, please, and find a way to be safe with. You spent many decades faking it for them. Smiling when you were actually hurting, saying yes when you absolutely felt a no, staying put when you wanted to run, going without so that they could get theirs, understanding and offering sympathy even when they were hurting you, bending over backwards and contorting in such a way that the sun could never light up your own face.

And then I heard:

You don’t need anyone to like you anymore. You’re not here to be liked. You’re not here to heal others. You’re not here to give anything to anyone. 

You are here to be yourself. You’re here to live your life. That’s it.

I paused on the forest path and took a breath. How would it feel to let that mantel of caretaking slip away completely? How would it feel to not be that girl anymore? What would my life be like if I wasn’t here in service to anyone else?

I placed my hand on my heart and felt the little bones there, just beneath my skin. I'm something very simple. A middle-aged woman walking in nature. A body that breathes, moves and (I took a moment to double-check, thinking of the people in my life who mean so much to me), yes…a body that cares. I slowed my pace on the path and stared up at the sun. What's the difference between caring for people and being a caretaker?

Caring belongs to me. It’s natural and unforced. It's not here to serve someone else. It’s an expression of my being. Mine, even as it's directed at others.

Caretaking is a job that was assigned to me. It had to do with other people’s needs and comfort and was loaded with pressure to perform. It wasn’t always an expression of care or of love, even when I was caretaking people I loved. It was for them, not me.

Can I trust myself to be caring? Is it enough? Will I be a bitch now, if I'm no longer a caretaker? Does this world have a place for women who aren't caretakers? Part of me started asking anxious questions, worried about letting that trusty old identity go.

But from my center, beneath my little heart bones, I can feel that this simple version of me, this smaller, truer version of me is the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want to get to know her.

I wonder what she truly cares about? That’s the mystery I’ll discover now in the days ahead.