The local train was pulling into her station. She stayed seated, planning to get up only when it came to a complete stop. There was no rush.
She was on her way home from work. Woke up at 5 am, as always, whipped up breakfast, and packed lunches for her son and husband. After a long day, she’s exhausted but still has dinner to think about and tomorrow’s breakfast to plan.
And, oh, it’s the weekend…
But all she can picture is the mountain of tasks waiting for her (all hers) – prepping for Monday’s meeting, dealing with her husband’s family coming over (hello, endless judgment), and completing her kid’s craft projects (cue more judgment).
They call it – overthinking, or, to put it nicely, the mental load.
Her husband dismisses it as her “liberal dystopian ideology.” He comes from a joint family. That explains a lot.
She’s tried everything – making lists, talking it out, trying to get her husband to help with planning and chores. But nope, she’s ignored.
Why listen to her when things somehow come through, right? (He calls it nagging; she sees it as an upbringing problem)
It’s like she’s in a raging river, struggling to keep afloat or swim while dragging along deadweight – her partner. And the gallery? They’re just tossing in their two cents like stones. Some comments hit hard and hurt; others are lighter but still sting.
Today, she’s just tired. Plain tired.
So when her husband asked what’s for dinner, she said nothing. She just went to bed and crashed. It was 10 pm, and she could hear her husband fussing about dinner. She didn’t respond. She had some water and went back to sleep.
She woke up at 5 am – out of habit, saw the room a mess, dishes piled high. She didn’t lift a finger and just went back to bed. Couldn’t sleep but laid there anyway.
At 8 am, her husband woke her up, asking for tea. Her legs wouldn’t move; she just stayed in bed.
She felt something – wasn’t sure what. When he asked what’s for breakfast, she stayed silent. He warned her about his mother’s impending judgment on their untidy home. She began to feel more – but what was it that she was feeling?
She stood up, went to the mirror, and saw her droopy lips and unkempt face—probably from the dust and sweat of her commute. But her eyes… they revealed something. She stood there, staring, and silently understood that she had changed.
But her husband was still asking her to make breakfast! Do you think she heard him this time?