For eight years, Ive been a homemaker. Not because it was my dream, but simply because thats how life turned out. I have two children, a husband who works long hours, and a house that never seems to stay tidy for long. Every morning, I rise at 5:30, making breakfast before anyone even wakes up.
By seven oclock, the dishes are washed, the living room is swept, the beds are made, and lunch is half-prepared. When my husband heads out, hell say, Just relax at home. As though being at home means lounging about. Once he closes the door behind him, my second shift begins: laundry, mopping floors, scrubbing the bathroom, gathering up some scattered toys, a quick run to the shops, and fetching the children from school.
When the kids get home, theres no time to pause. Homework needs doing, snack time, arguments, shouting, more stained clothes to tackle. Somewhere in the midst of it, my husband returns, exhausted, and plonks himself down to scroll through his phone. If I ask him to lend a hand, he says, I work all day. I once retorted, Well, so do I. He didnt take it well, accused me of exaggerating, insisted I had no idea what real fatigue meant.
One day, I told him I wanted to find a job. I wanted to earn my own wages, leave the house, feel useful for something beyond cleaning. He snapped back, So wholl look after the kids? Why did I even marry you, then? Thats just selfish. His mother chimed in, too: A good wife stays at home.
I started to feel invisible. No one asked me how I was. No one said thank you. If dinner was too salty, they complained. If the house was a mess, it was my fault. If the children got poor marks at school, blame fell on me. Everything landed on my shoulders.
One night, I snapped. I was washing dishes at ten, aching from head to toe, when I overheard my husband on the phone: My wife doesnt work, she just stays at home. I dropped a plate in the sink and quietly broke down.
Now, Im simply exhausted. Worn out from work that brings no salary, no set hours, no acknowledgement. Tired of feeling my life is boxed in between four walls. Tired of being just a homemaker.
And I dont know what to do anymore. Should I endure it? Should I stand my ground? Should I find a job, even if it causes friction in my marriage?
Is a homemaker truly privileged, or is it a weight nobody wants to acknowledge? After all these years, Ive learnt that the value of ones efforts doesnt lie in their recognition by others, but in the quiet strength it takes to keep a family going. Perhaps the lesson is this: be kind to yourself, and let your self-worth come from within, not from the gratitude of others.
