CONFESSION OF A HOUSEWIFE

I wrote this in 2021 but I was scared to publish it because I did not want to sound ungrateful. 

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It had been my dream to be a housewife.  I envied those stay-at-home moms who can be with their children 24/7.  Back in grade school,  I secretly envied my classmates whose moms were waiting for them after class while my mom was very busy working for money.  Just to be clear, I never took it against my mother because even at an early age, I understood our financial situation.  I knew then that my father's salary alone was not enough.  He was a very honest government employee, by the way.   If he wasn't, my mother would not need to work, and   I wouldn't be this proud. 

In one of my conversations with my husband, I communicated my secret.  Little did I know that it also became his dream for me.  So, when the opportunity of moving to another country came, me leaving my work did not become an issue.  Oh well, I had second thoughts after I received my OIC designation a month before we got our visa.  But the scale easily tilted in favor of  Australia when the piles of work on my desk reminded me of the fact that eating complaints for breakfast is not healthy.   lol 

I thought being a housewife was easy.  But it is not.  My first few months as a housewife was really hard.  It was physically, mentally and emotionally draining.     It was physically exhausting because I was overwhelmed with household chores.  I wanted to be the best housewife ever so I worked so hard trying to be perfect.  I wanted everything to be neat and clean because my idea of being a good housewife was one who could  maintain a clean home 24/7.  But it is near impossible since I also have a child to raise.   Household chores is never ending.  Trying to measure up to my own's expectations made me very tired and sad.     It intensified my feeling of worthlessness.  I felt like I didn't have contribution to the family.  You know, I had been working for almost half of my life which gave me the feeling of independence.  Now, I am dependent on my husband who actually entrusts his wallet to me.  He doesn't preclude me from buying whatever I want and need. But I feel guilty of burning cash that's not the fruit of my labor.   I am not used to this.  I need to work. I want to work.