Cup Status: Empty
You know that song from the 90’s? The one by Meredith Brooks that goes,
“I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I’m your Hell, I’m your dream
I’m nothing in between
You know you wouldn’t want it any other way”
It lists many different labels that a woman could wear and shows the opposites and extremes of the speaker’s personality. She says that the person she is speaking to wouldn’t want her to change. Verse 3 follows up the chorus by saying, “So take me as I am.” The speaker wears her labels and accepts herself the way she is and she expects the world to accept her the way she is as well. This is all well and good when the labels are positive or uplifting or part of a person’s personality. But how does the view change when the labels become hats that keep stacking one on top of the other, higher and higher on top of the head of a person who doesn’t want to wear all of them? That is a different story all together.
If the song were mine, it wouldn’t be called “Bitch”, it’d be called “Servant” and the lyrics would change thus:
“I’m a maid, I’m a cook
I’m a launderer, I’m a trip planner
I’m a gift buyer and RSVPer
I’m a bill payer and Christmas card sender
and don’t forget birthday parties and presents
I’m a backpack checker and planner signer
I’m an extra clothes checker and resender
I’m a permission slip signer and class party supply shopper
I’m a child bather and teeth brusher
I’m a menu planner and grocery shopper
I’m a parent-teacher conference signer-upper and attender
I’m a spirit week outfit planner and I still work a full time job
I’m a Marketplace item seller and one who makes ends meet
I’m the one who reminds you about everything
I’m the car plate renewer and car insurance updater
I’m the doctor appointment maker and the flu shot getter
I’m the everything person
I’m a mom, I’m a wife
I’m a person”
WOW that is the worst song ever written…and the worst part is that it doesn’t even cover all of the “stuff” that I remember and take care of. I know, I know…adulting and parenting takes a lot of responsibility and there are a lot of balls to juggle, etc., etc. But, I wear too many hats for a person who is married.
Each of the terribly unmusical lines to my rendition of the song is a different hat that I wear. The house cleaning hat, the laundry hat, the school stuff hat, the holidays hat, the bill paying hat, the child care hat, the medical needs hat, the meal planning hat, the grocery shopping hat, the cooking hat, the full time job hat, the mom hat, the wife hat, the I’m a person hat, etc. Each time a hat lands on my head, a little more stress presses down on my shoulders. It is more weight that I must bear because these are not things that can just be dropped. Yes, some items can be reduced such as not decorating as much for the holidays or limiting outings and events, but we all need clean clothes and we all need to eat and bills need to be paid and everyone needs baths and brushed teeth, etc. When a person is in a partnership, I always thought that the hats would be evenly distributed or at least somewhat evenly, but I was really wrong and I can’t even begin to say how absolutely disheartening and frustrating that realization was several years ago and how maddening and resentment producing it is today. Everyday, I feel as if I shrink by a few centimeters because of the weight that I am functioning under while my “partner” stands tall enjoying the fruits of my labor. It’s enough to make anyone throw off the hats and say “I’m done.” But, that is not how life works, especially life with kids and I love my kids deeply and I love myself, so I carry on.
Besides considering the sheer amount of hats that I have been wearing lately, I feel as if the Facebook algorithms have seen into my soul. For some reason two videos titled: “She Didn’t Marry You to Become Your Mother” and “16 Freedoms You Still Have Because Your Wife Quietly Gave Up Hers” have come across my feed. I watched both of them and felt seen and understood in such a deep and profound way. Why I can feel seen by an algorithm and not by the one person who should know me better than anyone else on this planet, is beyond me. Worse, is that I feel the person chooses to not see me because it is easier not to. It is easier not to care. It is easier not to fight. It is easier to watch things crumble and fall apart and to toss another hat up top through apathy and lack of action because if something doesn’t get done long enough, someone else will have to pick up the slack and that someone is me. There are no responsibility fairies in this house. No elves who take care of things while the family sleeps. I am the fairy and I am the elf. And I just want to be seen and cared about and loved in the way I deserve.
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