There’s a slew of clichés about how when one door closes another opens, essentially propping up a disappointed you or I by promising hope. But I do (even if reluctantly) have to say there is sometimes a kernel of truth in every cliché.
A few years ago, I was working on a project that lost its funding for the inability to maintain cost and schedule in spite of the many chances we’d had to make up for it. Failure. This failure led to an opportunity for me to travel to Europe and work for a year on a similar project where I not only had some fantastic life experiences, but also met the man that was to be my husband. Win. My life had completely changed simply because one door closed and another opened.
Yet, being with my husband required that I left everything that I had known and loved behind. It meant increased difficulties for visits and phone calls with loved ones, culture challenges, and language barriers. It also meant that I had to leave my career behind and become, however temporarily, a housewife.
I had always enjoyed the domestic side of things, you know, on weekends when I could take a break from being a career woman. I felt pride when looking at the newly scrubbed and gleaming tiles in my shower. A big, warm meal brought me satisfaction. I thought being a housewife would be enjoyable.
I was wrong.
So wrong that I bur(y)ied myself in projects: a DIY wedding, knitting, language learning, becoming an entrepreneur. But as I became more immersed in turning my new hobby into a business (because as Husby says, the only difference between a business and a hobby is that one brings in money) I realized that my housewife-ly duties were being neglected. The accrual of dust on every dry surface and lime scale on every wet one was proof of how badly I was doing.
So I asked for, and got, a dishwasher (for Christmas, no less). It bought me time but nothing else.
So, at the suggestion of a few older lady friends, a single workaholic guy, and my business coach, I finally decided to get off the fence and accept the help I desperately needed.
We got a housekeeper.
At first I felt completely spoiled and silly and incapable. Failure. Why am I unable to keep up all my involvements and still keep my house clean? I mean, hey, we’re not even going to talk about cooking here… Failure.
But she came today for the first time after a look-see visit last week where we discussed our cleaning needs (my needs, really) and the terms of our agreement. And as she scrubbed places in my kitchen and bathroom I just couldn’t fathom, I worked. And felt unencumbered. Free. Win.
Having someone else doing the cleaning enables me to spend more time doing the stuff that fuels my livelihood. It’s an investment in myself and my future. Even in my marital happiness. I failed at being a domestic goddess, only to help me win at being a fat health coach.
Like what you just read and want more? Then sign up to receive my bomb shells of truth straight in your inbox by clicking here.