I couldn’t do it all on my own anymore. I had been overworked for nearly nine years, running on the most bare minimum of sleep before rushing to work.

Make the kids breakfast as quickly as possible, hop on the computer for work, try to keep the kids quiet so I didn’t get in trouble again, only fifteen minutes to make lunch for everyone, back to work, get off in time to put the kids down for bed, two hours later they are finally down, still haven’t had dinner but need to clean. 

“Erik, could you please help me catch the place up a bit?” 

“I already made dinner, and I need to study.” 

“Oh, okay, right.” Why can’t anyone just clean up after themselves? When I make lunch, I put everything away, I throw away the trash, I rinse off the dishes. All while I wait for it to finish cooking so it takes no extra time, what was so hard about that?

I glance in on Erik. Rather than studying, I find him playing State of Survival. Frustration surged through me. My entire day was non-stop stress piling up on itself day after day after day, yet I never got help when I asked for it. “His day is stressful too,” I tried pushing the resentment down.

Each day was a copy of the last. Wake up, work, fight with kids to be quiet, clean, and get only a few hours of sleep. “At least you’re keeping up better than before,” I told myself.

Working from home was supposed to help my back pain, no more heavy lifting from my server days. But as it turns out, working in an office chair for hours on end only puts more pressure on your spine.

I thought I was finally doing better. But the pain was coming back, and it was becoming difficult to clean again. Again and again, they promise that things will get better. “When we move to Chicago, you won’t have to work so much. Carrie and Saul will offer more support with the kids than your parents have, working from home will be good for you,” but nothing ever changes. It’s the same pain, the same stress, the same hectic life in a different box.

I decided to eat something before cleaning this time, I didn’t have time to make lunch for both myself and the kids. I sit there, staring at another disgusting mess, knowing I’ll do this all again the next day. And the day after. And the days, weeks, years after that. And a weight decends upon me and those all too familiar thoughts of suicide awaken again.

“Erik, do you think you could help me with the cleaning tonight? I’m just…so tired.”

“I’m sorry, love, I have a quiz in two days. I need to study more.” He turns off the game on his tablet and carries it into our bedroom.

Maybe just one day off would be okay, I tell myself. I sit down and relax for the first time in a few weeks, watching anime.

But the next day, it’s even harder to motivate myself. The mess is larger, and Erik still can’t help. I do my best, but the pressure is still building. The feeling that things will never change starts to hook its claws in me.

That night, I stared at the mess. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the mess was there, forcing its guilt on me. I don’t want to do it. What I want to do doesn’t matter. You have to take care of the kids. Things will get better eventually. No, they won’t. You’ve been telling yourself that for nine years now. Has it ever gotten better? You’ll be doing this for the rest of your life. You could ask for help. No one will ever help you, you know that. You will be ignored.

Tears begin flooding down my cheeks, dripping down onto my T-shirt. Hearing my sobbing, Erik turned away from his tablet to look at me. “What’s wrong?!” he asked earnestly, getting up from his chair to sit beside me.

“I can’t do this anymore. Nothing ever changes. We never go anywhere or do anything. All I do is work, clean, and fight with the kids. I never have any fun, I never do  what I want. And worst of all, I’m failing at  all of it. I know I’ve complained about my Mom before, but she at least gave me a clean home to live in. She made sure I was fed, that I went outside to play. I can’t do any of those things. I can’t even bring myself to clean this stupid kitchen anymore,” it all exploded from me in a flurry of words. I was uniquely aware of snot dripping down over my lips, making me feel even more disgusting.

Erik pulled me into his chest and held me  close. “I know,” he whispered, “just try to remember I only have one year left. It won’t be this way for you for much longer. The next chapter of our lives will be all about you.”

Rage exploded from me, “That’s a lie! I’ll have as little choice in what I do then as I do now! Every step of the way you tell me, ‘it will be easier when…’ But that never comes! It didn’t get easier when we moved to Chicago. Instead, I lost all of my friends, all of my family, and I became completely secluded. It didn’t get easier when I stepped down from management to be a server. Just look at me, Erik! I can’t even stand for more than five minutes at a time anymore without being in pain! I look like I’ve been aged thirty years, not ten! Even now, I’m struggling just as much as I always have. And what’s supposed to be different after you graduate? I can do what I want? How? Who is going to take care of the kids while you’re at work? Are you going to call out sick when the kids are ill so I can go to school like I had to all these years? Are you going to keep up on the cleaning so I can study? Or when I say go to college, do you assume it’s just to learn something neat? Not for a careet like you? Do you honestly think that you could do what I’ve been doing this whole time? I didn’t think so!” My eyes widened with shock as I finished, I hadn’t realized how much resentment had piled up within me.

“I know this has been hard. All I can do is promise that what comes next will be about you. And that things will get easier. You won’t have to do anything you dont want to,” Erik said gently.

Hysterical laughter burst from so deep down I barely recognized it was coming from me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You dont have to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

I fell silent. I was vaguely aware that Erik was saying something. Those words, those awful, wonderful words kept circulating as if I had never even heard of such a marvelous concept. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.

Erik shook me gently. He was saying something. But I could no longer hear him. Because if I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to then… I could do what I wanted to do for so very long.

Give up.