I never liked that term, yet as time passes, I feel more and more like a trophy wife every day.
I’m so lucky to have such a supportive husband, I adore him, I know he only wants the best for me but I sometimes feel like I’m not the best for him.
I’ve been unemployed for over a year now, I think I have trauma from my last job position, it ended pretty badly and the manager was so horrible that I don’t think I can go through that again.
I feel at a loss as I was so confident, I enjoyed my independence and that lovely pay check at the end of the month, I worked hard and dreamed of becoming a PA one day.
It was a case in which I gave this job my all, always early and working longer than I was paid, working over lunch and helping out other departments, organising and ensuring I was the best face for the company. The issue was that the manager did not appreciate me, she bled me dry of energy and moral, with no appreciation, it got to the point where I knew all she cared about was her money, not her employees.
Now I avoid going outside, if I do it is not before putting up a fight, all my confidence I gained, has gone. I find it hard to talk on the phone, I still hide when my husband answers the door, I can’t go to the corner shop and I’ll spend days dreading my next outing, considering what excuse I will use as I will inevitably cancel.
Around this time last year, I attempted to work again, in a simple retail job, but I didn’t last more than a few weeks, a handful of shifts, before I became suicidal and had to cease the contract. I broke down as I was waiting to start my shift in which I was told to “Not get myself worked up” in which I said I was to quit.
I now spend my day watching TV, cleaning the house, writing and fussing the cat and my doggo. It’s not a bad life but I feel helpless, I have £50 to my name, which I got by selling an old phone and some books, this money is aside for December, Christmas and my hubbys birthday. If I want or need anything, I need to go through my husband as I feel wrong just taking his money, it makes me feel like I am a child again, asking parents for allowance.
My husband works two jobs despite his disability, despite me trying to get him to slow down, to look at other options for money. I feel like I’m going to drive him into illness, that he’ll be exhausted and I will lose him, I swear I’ll cause his death through my inability to function as a typical adult.
I want to be able to contribute to our home and bills, to buy him gifts and allow him to cut his shifts so we have more time together. It seems wrong that I barely leave bed while he works unhealthily long weeks and pushes himself to his limit, not in a good way.
However I know that a typical job in the public is dangerous to me, yet it’s all I am qualified to do. It’s my own sanity over money, my husband even said this, though I do ask if maybe I should force myself to work, even if it makes me relapse, just so he can rest. I start therapy soon which will hopefully help me, though it will be a long process and could take years, a process I am excited for but also a reality of how long I may be out of work for.
I feel dirty because I don’t have children to look after, I feel like I don’t deserve to be at home and have someone look after me, what is my excuse really? There’s a constant feeling of judging eyes, after all how do I explain why I don’t work? I look like another ‘bum’ to the average eye.
I think my best bet would be to sell poetry, as I could never charge for my blog or for my support, which is why my e-book is free. The sad thing is that with any writing, you can spend months and hours working on a master piece but it may never be published, even if it is, it won’t be enough for a living. The dream of writing for a living is very hard to achieve, unless you are J.K Rowling, most authors spend decades before they earn enough to quit their day job, some never get to at all.
I have doubts about writing this post, I judge myself on this topic so why shouldn’t any one else?
I do like my posts to offer hope at the end, some advice but this is more of my feelings, my inability to provide for my husband is my biggest anxiety, as I only want to make sure he is safe. I don’t talk about this to anyone really, not in this detail.
I suppose this is just a post to show the raw honesty that I always promise and do deliver, that no life is as it seems, that we all have nagging doubt, issues that haunt us and attack us wherever we go.
I do hope that this post is met with empathy, please do not take this as me asking for help, I’m in a good place but even the best of us need to vent!