I am an asshole

I have come to the realisation that I am an asshole. I am not self sufficient and I refuse to change. I used to cook. I remember, before B. and before my anxiety got really bad, I would cook every single night. I made parmesan dumplings for goodness sake! And now?

I don’t cook. Or, I very rarely cook. My child is so stunned to find me in the kitchen that she’s surprised I can actually boil water. Cooking has too many parts for me and it stresses me out but, also, eating food that I have prepared doesn’t taste good. I can put bits and pieces in a bowl and that’s fine. But I do not cook. I hate it. It’s boring.

I don’t like getting my own water. I will only drink cold water and if there is no cold water in the fridge then I refuse to put ice in a cup and turn a tap on. Our fridge has an ice and cold water dispenser in it!

We recently put our Christmas decorations up, suitably early, and I realised my Husband does all of the heavy lifting. He brings the decorations in, he fluffs the four trees we have, and he puts the lights and the tinsel on. He is always the brawn. Our relationship is perfectly fine and there are no issues with our marriage — this works for us but I do sometimes wonder why I’ve happily fallen into this helplessness. I happily trot around looking like a ditsy idiot who can’t cook. I don’t drive. I don’t clean toilets.

So, what the fuck do I do? When did I turn into someone who prefers her Husband to do everything for her? If you had no real insight into my life you could very well consider me spoiled and I wouldn’t blame you. I do think I’m spoiled. I like being spoiled. But sometimes I look at my life, at the fact that I don’t know when the dinner is ready to come out of the oven, and think what the fuck is she doing?

There are a few things that I can’t do for medical reasons. I had to stop driving. I can’t do all that much cleaning. These are things I’ve been told to stop doing by my medical team. I used to be the person who cleaned for 5+ hours a day for fun. Now my body is so out of whack that Husband does most of the heavy duty stuff. I am the tidier. I ensure the washing gets done. I ensure the house runs smoothly. I do all of the emotional labour in our house. I take care of the budget. Heck, I even ensure my Husband wears his glasses when he’s at the computer.

Somehow that never feels quite good enough. I do, often, feel like I am an asshole because I can’t cook. I worry a lot about the example I’m setting for B. Will she think that her partner is there to wait on her? She doesn’t get to see the hours upon hours I spend organising our lives and our money. She doesn’t see that if we’re doing something that day it’s because I’ve planned it. I love my Husband but he doesn’t plan shit. Everything that happens inside and outside of our house is because of me.

Now, Husband and I have dedicated a lot of time to ensuring we’re both equal. He does a lot of the stuff people see and I do the majority of the behind the scenes stuff. I know I pull my weight. I know he’s perfectly content with the way we divide labour. So why do I feel like an ass because I don’t know if the pasta is ready?