I was telling a friend of mine that every overworked mom reaches a point where she needs a break. Maybe she doesn't want to continue being not only a breadwinner, but chief cook, cleaner, laundress, and admin. Maybe she needs a hot shower, a nap, and someone else to pull the load for a bit.
That break never seemed to come for me. And rather than rock the boat too hard, I just kept doing what I knew I was good at. Then after Mark died, I found I felt super angry about having to cook for myself. I tried easy meals, or cooking one big batch of something, or just making sandwiches. But every time, I felt like I still wasn't getting a break. And never would.
even simple meals make me feel mad
The male therapist I was talking to (before the current one) said "yeah, but now you can eat whatever you want". But I was doing that anyway and I still have to do the work: making a menu and list, shopping, schlepping, storing, preparing, serving, loading the dishwasher. Why did I take it all on? Maybe it was my love language, or a trade-off for peace in the house.
My question is: when was it going to be my turn to be cared for? There has never been a time that someone took care of adult me by providing me with meals. I even made lunches for Mark when he was working from home. (and to be fair, he did thank me often) I have so much built up resentment and anger about it. I feel like I created, or at least contributed, to the problem.
Sitting in my kitchen yesterday, thinking about what I was going to pack for meals over the weekend made me so mad I cried. So I really need to try to resolve this for myself. Something tells me its a bigger issue than just cooking. But for the rest of the summer, I am dropping down to cooking meals for myself only two days a week.
I am determined to get to the heart of this and resolve it.
