I cant do this anymore. Why does it always fall on me? What more can I possibly give? I remember that day so vividlyindignation bubbling inside me while David simply shrugged, once again burying his head in the sand, praying things would just sort themselves out. Spoiler: they never did. Guess who had to sort out the mess? Me, of course.
I work from home, freelancing as a graphic designer. The hours are (supposedly) flexible, which only means everyone assumes Im always available. At first, the pay was rubbish, but I worked hard, upskilled, and eventually, I earned more than David. My wages covered the car loan, holidays (whenever we could afford them), new gadgets, clothesyou name it.
Even when I went on maternity leave, I didnt slow down. I was determined not to lose the good earnings Id worked so hard for. Sure, I was absolutely shattered, but it seemed like I had no choice.
Eventually, our son started nursery. Things eased a bit, but the fees were steep. It wasn’t just any nurseryI took care to pick the best for him. David, as usual, just nodded his approval. He left most decisions (and responsibilities) to me.
Wed been living in the flat Id inherited from my grandmother. David didnt have a place of his own; before we got married, he lived with his mum, Evelyn, along with his niece, Alicethe daughter of his late elder sister. Shed passed three years ago and it had broken Evelyn. Her health was declining, blood pressure constantly through the roof.
When David and I married and moved out, Alice was already at university, wrapped up in her own life. Nights out, holidays with mates, boyfriendsseldom home, and when she was, she disappeared into her room, not wanting to be roped into anything.
Evelyn started turning to us (translation: me) with all her day-to-day dramas. David was, frankly, useless, and Alice had her own plans, but Evelyn always made sure Alices every whim was covered. After all, as Evelyn often reminded, Alice was orphaned; her mother had given birth out of wedlock. Uncomfortable historybest not discussed.
Life trundled on, more or less fine, until Evelyn landed in hospital after a major health scare. The aftermath left her mostly bedridden, and the doctors couldnt say when, or if, shed ever recover.
David predictably withdrew. Women are just better at all thatcare work, nursing and such, he mumbled at me, scratching the back of his head.
Im a graphic designer, not a nurse! I sighed, already bracing myself for what was coming. In the end, I went to talk to the doctor.
Truth be told, Evelyn and I merely tolerated each other. Wed fought at first, but over time settled into a wary truce, helped by the fact that we didnt share living space. Neither of us agreed with the other on much, but we kept our peace for politeness sake. She put up with me because I was, as she told David more than once, a good wifehard to find, shed say. She knew David wasnt exactly a breadwinner. Most of the household income came from me.
Evelyn rarely saw her grandson, always too ill, or conveniently suffering one of her famous headaches whenever we needed a babysitter, so I never relied on her for help.
But now, suddenly, everyone expected my help. I collected Evelyn from the hospital (because I work from home and could pop out anytimeas if that means I have all the time in the world), brought her home, and the family moved into her place to better look after her.
I lasted all of three weeks. Three weeks of running myself ragged, doing laundry, cooking purees and broths, feeding Evelyn with a spoon, helping her washalongside my own work, and caring for our son.
Alice would scrunch up her nose, slink into her room and emerge only after sundown. By morning shed be off to uni, meeting mates, living her life. I couldnt blame herbut help wouldve been nice.
David was worse. Shes your mother! Id cry. Cant you pitch in just a bit?
Hed waffle about womens work, then proudly report hed bought some groceries. As if that was remotely enough.
Evelyn became even more irritable, snapping at everyone, especially me. Shed moan that I was lucky to have studied, found a good job, and now just sat around at home, clicking buttons on a computer, getting paid buckets of money. David, of course, was just unlucky with teachers at school, failed uni entry, bad luck at every turn. Shed taken out a loan for his education, but he could barely be bothered, scooting through on the edge of being thrown out multiple times. Meanwhile, Alice got on at a state-funded spot at university, of which Evelyn was immensely proud.
Every one of these speeches chipped away at me. Apparently, I was the only one who didnt deserve any creditjust lucky. Lucky indeed, Id think, especially with a husband like David. Where were my eyes before I married him? What was I thinking?
One day, struggling to keep up, I suggested we hire a professional carer for Evelyn and move back to our flat.
A carer? David said in shock. Thats really expensive! I cant cover that. If you want it, you pay for it.
This was always the arrangement: he paid the utility bills and bought the basics; I handled everything else. The carer? Of course, it fell to me.
I was furious at how this was just all assumedmy responsibility, my money, my time. No one seemed to care that I was half a shadow of myself, worn thin by endless demands.
One day, I simply snapped. I told Evelyn I was popping to the shop, picked up my son from nursery on the way, and went straight home to my own flat.
It felt like heaven to sink into my own bed, looking up at the ceiling in peace, just me and my little boy. I didnt want anything except to rest. I was exhausted.
I called my son, Robbie, to dinner. We ate quietly, and my mind drifted to that housewondering if theyd noticed I was gone. I hadnt left Evelyn to starve; shed been fed and changed, and David would be home in another hour as usual. Id left him a note: I cant and wont do this anymore. Wished Evelyn a speedy recovery and asked her not to hold it against me.
I switched off my phone.
David came round that night, but I didnt let him in. We spoke at the door; there was nothing more to say. He was less concerned about me than about how hed manage without me.
I suggested, calmly, Really, you should hire a carer. Itll be better for everyone. Then I told him Id be filing for divorce. I no longer wanted to be everyones workhorse.
He left, empty-handed. Eventually, I turned my phone back onwork might call, after all.
Evelyn rang, pleading with me to come back, apologising, insisting she and David needed me. Still, beneath her words was the same patronising expectationthat Id just forgive and return to my duties.
For once, I told her straight: I owed her nothing. She had a son and a clever granddaughtermaybe now they could help, too. She hung up on me.
The divorce went through.
Thats how I became single, and you know what? Nothing really changedexcept my life became lighter. I still managed everything myself, but with fewer burdens. I was grateful for the chance to see clearly how little my wellbeing mattered to those who supposedly loved me.
In time, Evelyn made good progress, thanksin no small partto a wonderful carer who gave her professional help and got her up and moving. David, miraculously, found a side job and could afford the carer, and Alice stepped up to help before the carer was hired. She could do it all, after all.
Funny how it all worked out once I stepped away.
As I sit at my desk, working on another project, I cant help but think: Casting off all that dead weight has done me good. Maybe next time Ill be a bit wiser about who I let depend on me.
