The Elusive Housewife

Musings, reflections and lessons from a Housewife

Tag: seen

  • Is my life the way i pictured it a year ago?

    Absolutely not, ha.

    A year ago i had my third and final baby…(i think?). So now I’m a mother of 3, a housewife and steward of our 6 bedroom house, our life and pretty much the threads of our lives.

    I chose all of this by the way, none of it was by happenstance. I always wanted to be a stay-at-home-mum. i always wanted a husband and dogs and all the security that comes with it. Before i began staying home, i thought i wanted to be a teacher.

    Yeah, I hated that. So I followed my lifelong dream of being a housewife. That was 6 and a bit years ago…

    I thought a year after completing our family i would be walking through the meadows- literally and figuratively- frolicking, and relishing the confidence that accompanies experience. Especially since I’m aware of just how much skill is required to be a good mum. And its something I’m proud of.

    But the reality is…

    My life is very different than how i imagined it.

    I’m feeling disenchanted with motherhood right now. That might be because my kids are admittedly at an incredibly difficult stage. The toddler stage is not for the faint hearted, never mind having 2 of them. And another child who gets kicks out of asking the most random of questions.

    So i know this stage is hardly supposed to be likeable.

    But after years of sifting through my traumas and coming to peace (relatively) with the past, i find myself on yet another self discovery journey…

    Hello neurodiversity!

    And honestly, it makes me sick. I cant take anymore counselling, i can’t take anymore self reflection. I’ve had enough.

    Somehow i’ve allowed my fears and traumas to dictate much of my decisions in life.

    And i no longer want to do that.

    I no longer want to need to safe. We all need safety, but i’m sick of really needing it.

    I want to use my skills, passions and talents to improve the lives of others. I want to connect with people. With myself. I want to have more control over my future.

    Of course i love my kids. But i want my kids to see me fulfilled. Not a martyr. I want them to see me gain confidence in my own ability to provide for myself, and them. To see me contribute financially because i have skills that i profit from.

    I don’t want them to be scared. Not like I’ve been.

    It’s a blessing to have married a committed family man, who enjoys providing for his family.

    But i don’t want to be a housewife because I’m scared to take on the world.

    I’m crazy asf, and i think most things I want for myself are achievable.

    So no, my life doesn’t look how i thought.

    I thought i reached my peak, my purpose.

    But now I know that life continues. And after we reach our goals we set new ones. And thats okay. Life isn’t about arrival or destination.

    We’re always arriving, becoming and evolving.

    I don’t want to be scared of not being scared.

    Whatever it is, I’m going to fucking do it…

  • Who am i?

    Who am i?

    The age-old question, right? Does anybody know? I don’t know…

    I mean, how do you know who you are?

    i mean reallyyyy know.

    And what does it mean to be known? Like, if I don’t know who i am then how can anybody really know who i am? Does that make sense?

    Is my identity just an amalgamation of my genetic make-up, upbringing, random or inherited personality quirks? Social conditioning? Or, am I- we – born with a predetermined identity?Personality traits; each one without our consciousness or election. Revealing themselves in every moment from birth until our last breath?

    Worst still, what if our identity, is so fearfully shaped by our lived experiences? Both conscious and subconscious. Affected by the magic and misgivings of the world as you existed as a tiny egg in your mothers womb. A physiological response to every earth-side interaction, experience, or thought we’ve ever had. Identities cultivated by joy, trauma, exhilaration and everything in between…

    Well, i fear that my entire identity is a result of my trauma.

    Yep.

    A direct response.

    And… I. Do. Not. Like. It. I do NOT like it. In fact, i hate it. Lord knows i hate it.

    It’s like your entire life, all of your achievements, milestones , everything you have become is thanks to your trauma.

    And the thing is, everyone will experience some degree of trauma in their lifetime, right? Like, pain is inevitable. We know it. We understand. Cool.

    So why does my trauma have such a hold over me? Why does my pain affect me so? How has it become so deeply ingrained within me? How has it penetrated every fibre of my being? Altering what once was to a degree akin only to a some awful road traffic accident. People applaud and commend you for your success, beaming about how well you do. Completely unaware that you are bleeding from every crevice. Your heart covered in bandages, the mind dying, shutting down due to the blunt force trauma to the head. Your soul leaves the earth. This is not even your face, or at least not your real face. The world oblivious to how damaged and disfigured you are…

    So you live in a glass jar: you can see everyone. Everyone can see you. Yet they can’t see you. They don’t know you.

    Nobody does…

    Least of all me.