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ijustneedtowhine · 3 years

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I realized I don’t want to work, so I won’t.

I feel like I‘m going to be judged for what I’m about to say. But I’m going to say it anyway. I kind of always wanted to be a housewife. Let me start by saying, I hate the term, “housewife”. It sounds like I’m a human pet or something. But moving past the stupid word, I always pictured myself homemaking, married or not. In school, growing up, when we would have to say what we wanted to be when we grew up I never ever meant what I said. I could not for the life of me think of a job I ever wanted to do. It sounds “lazy” but I never wanted to do anything. Don’t get me wrong, there were things I liked to do. I was a very active kid. I did a million different clubs, stage crew and color guard all throughout high school. I enjoyed it all. But I would be lying if I didn’t say that the second I thought about those activities turning into jobs, I lost all interest. Something about turning my hobbies into means of production, swiftly sucked all the joy out of it. I realize now that it was weird we were being taught to aspire to become workers. I just have no interest in living my life that way (doesn’t mean I didn’t try though).

In the beginning I did try to force my round peg into some of the square holes provided by our capitalist society. I went straight to college after high school. My second year in, I decided to turn my hobby of stage crew into a career path. One very big thing ruined this for me. In order to take the classes I needed like; stage lighting, stage makeup, and the opportunity to work on the crew, I had to major in theatre and take all of the acting classes. YEAH. You read that right. I had to freaking act. I have ZERO interest in acting. Very much not my thing you guys. The program director's excuse was that we needed to understand what the actors did as well. These classes were some of the most uncomfortable times in my life and I really wish I had never done it. Needless to say. that only lasted one and a half semesters for me.

One thing I feel like I should inform you of is that 2 weeks before I dropped out of college, my big sister, my absolute favorite person in the world, passed away suddenly. She had small children and an ex unfit to take care of them. My family and I were dealing with custody fights and a new life no one in my family ever wanted. Looking back now I know that it was incredibly traumatic for everyone involved and played a huge roll in why I left school.

Another hobby I tried to turn into work was makeup and skincare. I went to beauty school right after I dropped out of college. You see, even though I was able to convince my parents to let me leave school, they still wanted me to be working towards a career of some sort. So I enrolled into beauty school not fully understanding what I was getting myself into. Like I said, I am only interested in makeup and skincare. But here, at my school you had to also learn to do hair. My naive 20 year old ass trusted the enrollment lady when she said that I wouldn’t have to do much hair and that the program was pretty evenly distributed. LIES. Hair was 90% of what we did there. I fucking hated it you guys. I of course liked certain parts of it. The material was interesting, the tests were a cake walk, I made some friends, and even dated a girl I met there for a short while. But when it came to graduating to the salon and doing real customers hair for 8 hours a day (before going to my job where I worked 5-6hrs a day 6 days a week I might add) I was fucking over it. This on top of my ever blooming anxiety was a real recipe for me to avoid, avoid, avoid. My attendance was piss poor by the end. I got kicked out because of this. I wasted $20,000 on something that turned into nothing and ruined my self esteem. I felt like such a loser for not being able to finish. I could not for the life of me understand why I couldn’t get myself out of bed and go. Why would I cry at the thought of having to walk through those doors? I knew I had to, but I physically couldn’t after a certain point. So after beauty school I just kept working a shit-ton. I got a retail management job that I was at for a couple of years. I liked it well enough. Management was fun and I was good at it. The day I put in my two weeks notice I walked into the back to put my stuff away and my store manager and district manager were there with balloons ready to surprise me with the good news that I was being promoted. That was a pretty awkward conversation to have needless to say lmao. And to be honest I only left because I wasn’t making anywhere near enough money.

The job I left for is where I met my favorite person alive, my sweet husband. We were in the same department and we started talking when I was new and had no clue what I was doing. He would help me out when I needed it but was too stubborn to ask. We would stand around and talk when there wasn’t much work to be done. I could tell he was really kind and funny, so one day I just decided I didn’t want to stop talking to him. I offered him a ride home that morning (we worked overnight). We went to a park to watch the sun rise and we literally haven’t spent a day apart since. He’s truly the loveliest person I’ve ever known. I can confidently say our relationship is the only good thing that came out of my first couple of years of adulthood.

This job is where I hurt my back, Christmas 2019. I was working 7 days a week 12 hr shifts and I was fuuuckkinggg exhausted. I lifted something wrong and that was that. My back hasn't been the same since. I’ve gone to chiropractors and nothing helps. I can’t even do the dishwasher without having to take a break. So obviously I had to stop working there. I lasted until august 2020 though! I used a back brace and took lots of days off lol. At the end I just could not do it anymore. My last shift I spent the last three hours of my shift crying in pain and taking breaks to sit every 5 minutes. I walked out the second my shift was over and never went back in. I felt like I was ripping my body apart. My now husband, then fiance, and I decided that I should look for something to let me sit. I did that. It sucked. Depression and anxiety got the best of me once again and I stopped going. I don't know what happens to my brain but it feels like it starts to attack me with words, fears and feelings of despair. I shut right the fuck down. I’m not strong enough to push through. And I don’t think that I have to be that strong. Once I had enough break downs about being too scared to leave the house my husband and I decided I would stay home as long as it takes me to get better, physically and mentally. I love him so much for being on board and understanding that I needed a break.

It’s been a couple of months now and I’ve had a lot of time to try and connect the dots in this pattern of my life. I think that I spent a really long time fully convinced that being a housewife in this day and age was out of the question. Deep down I knew it was the only thing I could ever picture doing and being happy with. I loved organization, lists, cleaning, and cooking. Growing up I always felt really good about myself when I cleaned and organized my room. I would sit around and day dream about what my home would look like and how I would decorate it. But none of that mattered when I was being told that I should aspire to do a job and love it enough to do it until I’m in my 60s. Like what? I don’t love anything enough, besides my family, to do it for decades of my life. When I finally admitted to myself that taking care of a home and a family is truly what I aspire to do, the thing that feels like it gives my life meaning, I felt a sense of relief, and then quickly after, some anxiety. I started to get scared of what people would think of me. I know that there are a lot of feminists out there that actually understand the ideal of feminism. They would never down a woman that is doing exactly what she wants (as long as she isn’t hurting anyone). But on the other hand I have encountered so many people, men and women that are really nasty about women that are or aspire to be housewives. So many of the people I grew up with joked about people they didn’t like ending up bored housewives. I know I shouldn’t have but I laughed along. Knowing deep down in a locked away place, it was the only thing I pictured myself doing. I just don’t see what’s wrong with homemaking if that’s what you truly want.

Finally, I’ve come to realize that I shouldn’t be ashamed of doing exactly what I want to do. It works for my husband and I, and that’s the only thing I should truly care about. I picked the side of things that felt like home. Like they fit. The part that brings me satisfaction, joy, and the space to move at my own pace.

#homemaking #housewife #feminist

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