It’s early evening, and my husband has encouraged me to have some time to myself. I have a stressful job, our daughter is teething, and I’m recovering from postnatal depression. He reassures me he wants to take care of our little girl, affectionately calling it "daddy daughter time."
But I can’t just relax. I can’t just sit here. As much as I try, all I can see are the things I should be doing. I race around the home to get all of these jobs done. By the time I’m finished, I’m too exhausted to have any downtime. My husband has successfully got my daughter to sleep so I collapse into bed.
The next day arrives, and I’m stressed as soon as I wake up. I’m snapping at my daughter, the prospect of being late to drop her off at the childminders is making my chest unbearably tight. I snap at my husband, although I didn’t catch what he said so I’m not sure why I just snapped at him.
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I successfully drop off my daughter at the childminders and race back home to tidy up. I’m working from home and my husband has suggested I use this time before work starts to relax. I can’t. It feels so wrong. I quickly tidy up and start my work early.