What I don't like is the idea of welcoming someone into my home and sharing my space with them, especially because it's the home I share with my children; where their toys or books can found in almost every room, their photos are dotted about on walls, cupboards and window sills, even when they are not present the house holds dear the joy of our little family and opens it's doors only to the closest of family and friends.
|Our little families initials on London's Bus Trail Bus|
If you are welcomed into my home it is likely that you are loved either by myself and/or my children. I guess that means what I have right now is not love, but I already know that. How though can it ever be love if I won't even give it a chance? I feel slightly sad that in the last few years of my life I've held any male who showed an interest at a 'comfortable' distance. It's a distance that's good for me, but not so great for them.
It seems that it doesn't matter how many times he tells me I'm beautiful or says that I don't understand how much he cares for me, I'm just not in the right mindset to accept it. I wonder if it would be any different if it were coming from someone else, though something tells me it wouldn't matter.
Part of me feels that writing this down will help me to work through it, another part of me thinks that admitting I'm 'flawed' or 'damaged' is going to do nothing but keep me there. However I stand by the statement that "our mistakes do not define us," which means that the only way to go from this admittance is forward.