My Time.

We are replaceable. We are not the prize, we are the work horse.

Even at after 2 months in, I am still steeping out remnants of the shame. Making the decision to quit work and go back to school was probably one of the hardest decisions I have ever made in my life. My husband and I agreed that over the summer it just didn’t make sense to work when I could just take the much needed time to focus on writing. While it is a blessing and a privilege to have such a supportive partner, I felt a sense of guilt accepting this gift. Although I am a student, I was embarrassed to be a temporary “housewife”, which is probably the first time I have ever said that out loud.

I have always said no matter how much money my husband made, I would never not work or I would take some time when we have small children, but even then I will be doing part-time or volunteer work…(God was probably laughing at me then). Carrying the perception of “doing nothing” while your husband works all day is embarrassing. I get why.

Black women traditionally get no days off. We are socialized to believe our value is embedded in our work ethic, what we can produce, what we can do to enhance the lives of others, who we are raising and who we are nurturing. If that is not happening then we are lazy. What are we here for? We are replaceable. We are not the prize, we are the work horse.

I am on summer break from school and I have the freedom to do anything I want for three months. Even in undergrad I always took Summer classes and in my first grad program I worked full-time. I now have the time to write, sleep, work out, go meet up with friends, anything….but instead I for the most part busy myself with “tasks” to make myself seem "useful" during the week. My husband is the one that has to remind me, you’re not on a deadline, you could take a nap, and doesn’t assume that I should be automatically cooking and cleaning all day because I am not at work/school (clearly he gets it.)

While it may be difficult to adjust, this summer has allowed me to take my own advice and lean into the discomfort of knowing that this time off serves as a personal investment into myself, and that my value far outweighs the work and productivity that I do, as does my husband's (It should go without saying that I would do the same for him.)

This will probably be the only time in my life that I have this much time on my hands until I retire and everyday I am reminding myself to indulge in it. It’s even difficult to write this post without feeling the need to compensate by making mention of the productivity that I have been making during my time off. It’s honestly not even important because it’s MY time. The irony is not lost on me that I am in fact a real housewife in Atlanta, and it is okay.