For the last eight months, I haven’t had a job. But my husband continues to do his share of the housework. We don’t have a schedule or count pennies. I do some cooking and most of the laundry when I’m feeling well; when I’m not, I stay in bed and become depressed and irritable, and he does his best to take care of me after long days at work.
Guilt. Gratitude. These are two feelings I have about this arrangement. Neither of which seems quite right for a romantic relationship, although I suppose they’re both common enough.
For the first time since I was 23, I was financially dependent on someone else. One day I snapped, and accused my husband of resenting me for not earning. When I had calmed down enough to listen, he pointed out that he had not indicated any resentment. I had been projecting: I’d felt so resentful of my situation that I’d assumed he had too.
I am used to being taken care of by my husband: it’s relatively new to have friends look after me when I’m unwell, physically or emotionally. To be fed when I feel incapable of feeding myself, to be comforted when I am in tears, and to be reminded over and over again that I am loved and not alone.
Read more on Medium.
Everyone is talking about caregiving, but it can still be difficult to find meaningful information and real stories that go deep. We read (and listen to and watch and look at) the best content about caregiving and bring you a curated selection.
Have a great story about caregiving? Use our contact form to submit it to us so we can share it with the community!