I spent the morning cleaning the house. Lately, I’ve been having a hard time finding gratitude for this life of mine. It feels as though every day is the same and I’m stuck in this role of mother and housekeeper. I don’t quite understand why he assumes that I am just going to be around on the weekends and that he can do whatever he wants. Not that he is off running around with his friends and having a grand old time, but nonetheless, he isn’t here handling the responsibilities of parenthood. Whereas, I am always here, stuck in this role of motherhood. A role that I never thought I wanted and sometimes I still second guess whether I really want this role or whether I’m any good at it, despite my best efforts.
He often makes plans to go to work on the weekends without ever asking me if I mind. What if I want to take off and ditch my role for the weekend? What if I don’t feel like being “mom” and I need a break? The presumptuous nature he has festers resentment in me like an infected wound. I find myself cleaning the house and spiraling down into a rant of hatred toward him when he isn’t around. I find myself hating him and his freedom to do as he pleases without ever asking permission. Why is it that as a woman, I feel as though I need to clear things with him before I go and do them? Is it a woman thing or is it just a “me” thing? Am I being a considerate partner or am I playing into this submissive woman societal role?
I’m on this road to becoming an empowered woman who derives fulfillment from being fully and unapologetically herself, yet I asked my 8-year-old daughter today what she thought of her dad and I. She said, “You guys don’t really like each other.” I asked her why she thought that and she said, “because you fight and you complain that he does nothing a lot.” It made me sad that she sees our relationship that way. Then she defended him and said, “He works a lot. He has 2 jobs.” I asked her what she thought I did. She said, “you cook and clean a lot.” This really upset me because I am not a housewife. Not that there is anything wrong with being a housewife, but I’m not that. I work full time, take care of a house, take care of her, etc. I am the primary breadwinner in our household as well as the primary caregiver and yet, when asked, she thinks that I cook and clean and her dad works. As somewhat of a feminist, this really irritates me that she has this idea of gender roles because I’m picking up the slack around the house and parenting on top of my full-time job most of the time while he’s not around and is working. It’s a fact that more is expected of women than men these days.
Things need to change. I need to claim my time to myself because not claiming it and setting boundaries has me being an angry and resentful bitch… someone I don’t want to be. He comes home and acts jovial as though nothing is wrong. He acts as though he doesn’t even pick up on my irritation. He literally came home and announced, “Daddy’s home!” in his fun-loving goofy way. I responded as sarcastically as I could, “Woo hoo!” In my mind I’m thinking, “What the fuck? Do you want a fucking celebration? Are we supposed to give a shit? Do you think we’ve been sitting here pining for your arrival?”
Though, as I sit here with this festering resentment, I realize that it’s not him I’m actually mad at. It’s me. I’m angry that I haven’t made space for myself. I’m angry that I keep giving too much of myself away. I’m angry that I keep putting myself last and that I don’t ask for what I need or want. I’m wallowing in a hole that I allowed myself to slide into because of choices I’ve made. Even no choice is a choice. There are always choices to be made. I could choose to tell him that I have plans for next weekend and he would more than likely be accommodating and make it a point to be there for our daughter so I could take my space. He encourages me to do things for myself like get back to yoga classes outside of the house and such, but with Covid-19, I’m the one who has been resistant as I don’t want to have to work out huffing and puffing through a mask. However, I just signed up for kickboxing classes and plan on going this week to see if it’s something I want to commit to. I need something outside of this house. Even though I’m an introvert and I enjoy being alone, I am realizing that I really need to experience something new and if I deny myself of that, I’m going to wind up sabotaging myself in some way or sinking further into the deep dark hole I feel I’m in at the moment. I can’t afford to do that, so here is where I dig my heels in and make a conscious effort to choose me more often because I deserve to feel good. I deserve to have space for myself. I deserve to have a life outside of being a mom, housekeeper, partner, and employee.
So, here I am, easing back into my writing after a hiatus. My reason for the hiatus was that I didn’t want to disempower anyone with the headspace that I’ve been in for the past couple of months or so. I didn’t want to get on here and complain when I know how beautiful life is. I was playing into the stereotype that being “spiritual” means being positive. It’s not. It’s showing up fully for life and allowing yourself the experience of all of it. Allowing life to touch you, feeling everything, not numbing yourself to the “negative” feelings. The past few months I’ve been in a space of “negative” feelings. I’ve felt lonely, isolated, sad, depressed, angry, irritable, impatient, and self-destructive to a degree. There have been times over the past few months that I’ve considered pouring myself a glass of whiskey and just drinking the feelings away or relying on some other unhealthy vice to “make myself feel better.” I continue to choose not to. I continue to sit with it all and examine it. I continue to do my best to practice loving myself, even though my head has not been where I’d like it to be lately. I continue to try to observe without judgement and let it all be. After all isn’t that what it means to be a human being… the ability to stand humbly as a man and allow life to be what it will be in each moment.