On Your Mark, Get Set, Go!

I'm gearing up for my trip home at the end of the month. It's the first time I've been home in a year, and the first time in 4 years that I am planning on staying for more than 3 days. That may not sound like a such a big deal, but considering the size of my family and the number of friends that have emailed wanting to get together - that makes for a lot of visiting and a lot of catching up!
I don't really think there is anyone who I wouldn't want to see, though there are people I am more excited to see than others. Like, I'm really excited to see some of my old classmates and a few people from my street where I grew up. I'm excited to see some of my family - which won't be difficult because the family reunion is scheduled to take place while I'm there.
But in all this excitement is an ounce of fear.
I have been gone for 4 years. It feels more like 10. I know I've come a long way since then. I may still be the small town girl at heart, but I've definitely been doused with city influence. I know I'm more open minded. I know I am more determined to get what I want. I know that the only person capable of placing limitations on what I achieve in life is myself. I'm not saying that the people back home are so "country" that they won't understand me, or that they are ignorant in any way - some of the wisest people I know are back home - I just fear that I'll come off as an even bigger outsider than I was when I lived there.
You see, I grew up in a majorly religious town. If you didn't go to church you didn't fit in. They didn't care what church you went to - or what you did through the rest of the week - just as long as your butt was in a pew on Sunday morning. My family was Methodist on my dad's side and Church of Christ on my mom's. My dad, however, is the least religious man I know. My mom, while she believes in God, doesn't attend church on a regular basis. For my own reasons, and those that know me well know what those reasons are, I lean more toward my dad's way of thinking. So, needless to say, school was sometimes difficult for me.
I had friends - great friends - religious friends. They knew why I felt the way I did and yet they accepted me. They "prayed" that I would see the light and come to accept Christ, but they never preached to me. They wished me happiness, but then never damned me for not believing as they did. And out of all of the friends I've had over the years, this particular group of girls will always be my best friends, even if we barely keep in touch.
I can't say that the last 4 years have drawn me back to God. Quite the opposite in fact. I don't deny his existence, I just need the proof, and I have yet to see it in my life. I read somewhere that religion is a belief, whether that be in a God, a spirit, fairies or the wind. So, the way I look at it my religion is myself. I know I exist. I know that I am capable of anything. I see the results of my actions and the love that I have for myself and people around me. It may seem a bit self-centered, but it makes sense to me. In all the bull shit that I've been through the only person I knew, without a doubt, that I could count on was myself.
This knowledge is why I am nervous about going home. I believe in this "religion" so intensely that I live by it everyday. And I fear that my family and friends might conceive this confidence as cockiness. Confidence is something I never had a lot of as a kid. I don't intend on going home with guns loaded and blow them all away with my new found sense of worth. Quite the contrary. I want them to reach the realization on their own. And I hope that they are amazed - or at the very least impressed - with what I've accomplished in the last 4 years.
I hope that they see that I am no longer the shy, backward, sad girl that I was. I hope they see the real me. The me that I could only find after leaving home. The me that could only exist where there were no expectations.
I am proud of me. I hope they are, too.