When i was married and had small children i was able to stay at home with them. We did not want them to go to daycare. I would get up in the morning with the kids, and we had our daily routine of meals and playtime, naptime and more playtime while i managed to clean the house, grocery shop, take them to the library and parks and then have dinner on the table for when hubby arrived home.
I actually worked a part time job at night as well, so i could have my "own money" and honestly, so i could have adult conversation.
Those were happy years mostly. We weren't rich, but we each had our role. He went out and made the money to pay the bills and i took care of the family and everything at home. Time went on, the kids went to school, i went to school and worked, he worked - He bought a home with his parents that i got to live in with him and the kids (yes, i said it) and eventually we both had a full time income for a short period of time. blah blah blah
When i was home with the kids i was always busy, but i always had time to myself as well. When they went down for a nap i would read. Sometimes, i'd lay on the floor with in their playroom with them and read while they played. I always managed to find time to escape into my head, find my space. As time went on and the kids went to school and I was no longer home during the day - that time went away. The only reading i did was for school, work, practicums.....I had no time to myself. Once i was out of school and began working JUST one job and being a wife and mother, i still had no time to myself. On weekends if i tried to sit and read my husband would crawl up my ass because i wasn't being productive. "how can you just sit there and read?" like i was wasting everyone's time.
I loved it if he left the house. LOVED it. I would run for a book and listen for his truck...and when he pulled in i would get busy doing something "productive". If he didn't leave the house i would do laundry and sit in the basement with my book. If he came downstairs i would get busy folding. There is so much that is fucked up about this but I am not looking to unpack that right now. The point is, i had no time that was just mine where i could just be ME and not answer to someone about my whereabouts or activities. And it not only angered me, it traumatized me. I felt like a prisoner with a guard.
Fast forward to me and the kids moving out, living on my own merit for the first time in my life without the help of anyone else. It was scary, it sucked a lot when there was no money, but it was also the most freedom I have ever had. No one would yell at me to go to bed if i was still up at 2am. No one told me how the furniture was going to be arranged, or how often i could do laundry....I came and went as I pleased, like a free citizen. And as tumultuous and terrifying as it was, I look back at it now as another great time in my life. That's simplifying.
Years later i move in with the bf i'd been with for years. We rent a cute little house that rapidly becomes home. Our friends come over, we live in town close to our network, and all is right with the world. Except. We rarely spend any time together anymore. When we lived apart, he would come over on Friday nights and we would order food and binge watch television. It was "do nothing" Friday because we were beat up from working all week. That was our night. Thursday nights I would go to his house and we'd go to "garage night" (loosely termed at that point) at whatever friends place was hosting. We'd go together and leave together but we did our own thing there. We had a life together - concerts, weekend trips, motorcycle rides, parties....and each other.
Then we moved in together and I STILL had freedom to read my little heart out, or sit on the deck with my girlfriend and polish off a bottle of wine, or go shopping all day, I did whatever i wanted whenever i wanted and he never asked or cared. Because we lived together we no longer did Friday nights, and I no longer attended garage nights very often because i was seeing our friends all the time, so i stopped going. I shouldn't have probably. He was in and out constantly being someone who is always around his friends. I always like time to myself so it didn't bother me until i realized we had no life together anymore unless it was going out with our friends. Even when we did that we weren't together- we'd go in the same vehicle and that was the extent of it. I started to pipe up about it. I missed him. He was different when it was just the two of us compared to how he was around all our friends. Fighting became the only time we spent alone together.
I went from having one man so far up my ass i walked on tip toe, to the other man who treated me like i didn't exist.
We breakup, I lived with my bestie until one short stint where i lost my mind and ended up living with a virtual stranger (the whole relationship lasted just under a year) and ever since then i've been living alone. Most of the time happily. Sometimes lonely. I did move in with a girlfriend during covid for a year and i'm here to tell you, two women can't rule one household. (MAYBE if they are having sex, which we were not) I've said over and over again that i will never ever live with another person ever again. Dating only reinforced that. Seeing how some of those men live, hell NO.
No one who knows me would believe i'm gonna write this down, least of all me, but I think maybe i could do it again with the right man.
He'd have to be clean and have good taste - care about what his living space looks and smells like. He'd have to not be cluttered, but not be so cold as to not have any personal items around. He'd have to like spending time at home with me, but not have to be WITH ME every minute. It would be nice to know he was around doing something he liked doing while i was around doing something i like doing. Maybe doing each other sometimes...randomly. It would be nice to be happy when he comes home and have a meal together that we cook, or he cooks, or i cooked (the point being we allllll know how to feed ourselves) and someone who can appreciate when he doesn't have to clean up because i'll get it. Or he'll get it and i can appreciate it. Or we can do it and get it done fast. It would be nice to settle into our favorite spots in front of the tv to watch a movie, or another episode of a series together - or I could read while he watches man stuff i don't care about. Together, but separate. It might be nice to wake up next to him in the middle of the night - or day - and feel his hand on me. Someone who also enjoys a made bed and a clean bathroom. Someone who doesn't need to constantly talk just because we are in the same room - but who will have a great conversation when it arises....Someone to come home to and just hug without having to dump a whole crappy day onto each other. Someone i can give a body rub to because i know it makes him feel better for a little while, and who also gives me rubs without me asking. He has his space, I have my space, we respect it and we enjoy sharing space too.
Thats what i've been thinking about. Maybe relationships aren't created by the devil to ruin our lives.
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