Not A Princess Anymore

I come across as the “I can do anything type of woman” I can use tools that I don’t know the name of. I can now lift furniture three times the size of me, well more like skull drag it across the room. I play sports with the kids, it’s not just tea parties and playing babies anymore. I’m a sole income parent now, that stress in itself is massive. Rarely do I ask for or accept help from anyone, I try to be fiercely independent. I remind myself that there are so many people around the world worse off than me and I’ am lucky.shifter

I was once a princess. His princess, not one to get my hands dirty, that was his job and he loved it. I loved sitting back with my cup of coffee, perving on him while he was mowing the lawn. Taking afternoon walks with the kids, I would keep a steady pace behind with the dog while he would skate board up and down the road with the children on his shoulders and back. Life was bliss.

About a month after he passed I began having lots of car issues. Currently only a quarter of my brain functions so I’ve been blissfully ignoring the white plumes of smoke that escape the exhaust. The oil light came on last week so I thought I better take it into the service station and have them check it out. The dip stick was clean, not a trace of oil in sight. They topped it up for me but charged through the roof for their kind service. That was ok I managed to get through that moment with minimal tears. I’ve got this, I kept telling myself.

Click, click, click as I’m driving with the window down today. I’ve heard this sound before, it’s a nail in my tyre. Really!! When do I get a break? A few months before he passed, we were lucky enough to drive over bolts on the highway and all four of the tyres had to be repaired. John took control of the situation and had the tyres fixed in no time. From watching him deal with all that, I do know what to do to get the tyre fixed now, but I want John here to do it! I don’t want this independent life, I want him.

The nail is the icing on the cake for a well overdue breakdown that I knew was coming. Excuse the foul language that I really despise but FUCK. Sometimes it just needs to be said. Right now there is no other way to explain the frustration that I feel about being a “fiercely independent woman” what a joke. I want my man to walk in and sweep me off my feet, tell me not to worry my mind over things to do with the car or chores around the house.

Today I snapped at work and hid in the bathroom with my tears. I haven’t done that for a few weeks. Although I know I am capable to deal with the things that were his job, I don’t want to. I miss him, I miss him taking control and I miss being a princess. Is that selfish?

Today I just don’t care. I know I wont be the only woman who feels this way.

End of rant.

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5 thoughts on “Not A Princess Anymore

  1. I hear you. A couple weeks after my husband died my main sewer line got clogged. I had to dig it all up myself and I sat there screaming and crying in the backyard the entire time. I wanted so badly for him to rescue me. It sucks so much and I am so sorry you are going through this too. Many many hugs to you today! ❤

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Totally get what you are saying. When I came back home after Gaurav’s death it seemed like the whole house had decided to come apart – things were constantly breaking down and I had no clue what to do. Sometimes I don’t even months later. Like right now, the roof needs waterproofing and I don’t know the first thing about it. Sometimes I just want to not bother about it and have him come and take over.

    Though I’ve become shameless about asking for help. I ask anybody and everybody. So that helps a bit. A friend did come back and say he doesn’t help me because he wants me to be ‘independent’. I wanted to slap him. I AM independent – but that doesn’t mean that once in a while it can’t feel nice to have someone do something for you. Not because they need to, but because they come up and take responsibility because they want to.

    Sorry, I seem to have gone off on a rant of my own. This waterproofing is driving me crazy.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I can so relate to this post. Right after my husband, Chris died I remember mowing the lawn. We were married 19 years and I maybe had done this two or three times. On this particular day the mower was quite a pain and would not run. I was practically in tears when I called Chris’ cousin for help with the “he should be here ” rant playing over and over in my head.

    Liked by 1 person

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