Trad Wife Dreams

(I always add more content in the voiceover when I’m reading it out loud, because it’s so easy to expand my thoughts, and give more details, when I’m just talking.)

I haven’t been writing or updating nearly as much as I want to.

I have had grand plans, and even some attempts, but have gotten stuck.

I’ve been trying to blame it on the fact that it’s harder to write about my life, because ‘other people are involved now.’

Ohhhh I used to write whatever I wanted about my liffffffe, and what I was going throuuuugh, but now I’m marrrriiiiieedddd. And my life involves other peoplllllle.

I do think that’s partially true. Most of the things I’m leaning on God heavily about right now, are things that aren’t just my story to tell. And, I don’t want to regret sharing too much. Especially without being able to give things time.

But to be fair, I think I am also not trying hard enough to find things to write.

And I know the drill. If you’re a writer, you’re supposed to wake up every day and write. You’re not supposed to wait for inspiration to strike. You’re supposed to just do it. And find it along the way. That’s what I used to do. And it worked.

So I’m going to write. But I’m also going to share some more private things behind the paywall.

And save the even more private things for my journal. Ok, mom?

When I was 33, and my writing career went spiraling down after COVID and cancellations, I had the very distinct thought that I’d made a wrong turn in my life. I was actually driving at the time I had the thought, but I was thinking about my life in general.

My career, which had been so exciting and ego-boosting, was nothing but a vapor.

While writing is fun and thrilling and meaningful, I could not believe I was 33 in the middle of COVID, and wasn’t married with children. How did that even happen? I felt like I had so much time at 29. And in the blink of an eye, here I was living in the suburbs, alone, with nothing but disdain between me and my prior fans.

This was all before I was Christian, for context.

As I really struggled to figure out what to write about, or whether to even keep writing at all, I thought … “I do not want to work. I want to get married. I want my husband to provide. I want to have the job of raising children. If I write, I write. That’s fine. But I do not want to have the pressure to financially support myself.”

Before you get too annoyed with me, I know that’s become harder and harder to come by “in this economy.” And I also know, who wouldn’t want that? I assume that even women who work and make good money and like their jobs probably want to be in a position where they don’t have to be the ones financially providing. Or, to be in a position where you don’t have to work.

I also know that many people enjoy their jobs.

I also know that it’s just not feasible for a lot of families to live on one income. I get it. I get it.

But, nevertheless, I want it.

And, to be fair, back then, maybe my “I don’t want to work I want to be a wife” was also partially a response to the trauma* of being slandered, after spending years building a creative brand and relationships with readers, who now hated me.

And likely, also the response to not wanting to spend time building something again, just for me to want to scrap it all again.

Also… at that point, I was really not wanting to have to be public in any way anymore, because it was a brutal experience.

I don’t want to rely on this fickle beast of a career. So if I was going to work, at that time I wanted it to be a normal job. But, I also didn’t want a normal job either.

I want to be a trad-wife.

I obviously didn’t want to be whatever oppressive version of a trad-wife is, where they have no choices and no control and no agency and no respect and ultimately, no real love from their controller. Nobody wants that. That’s the dark side. The bad rep that traditional roles in marriage have gotten. You are a pretty slave.

The good version? You and your husband are flexible and supportive of one another, you have have different roles for the benefit of each other, and the family, and the household.

I just wanted to have a legitimate role, away from the workforce, and away from the public eye, in my house. And maybe also in a sunny wood. With my future children, if possible. And with a husband who was the one supporting us.

A girl can dream.

Then, unrelatedly I became a Christian a year later.

Then, a year after that, I was 35. Then I really felt like I was in the 11th hour of my “youth” and fertility. Because even at that point, if I met someone soon, how soon would I be married? How soon could I have children?

And then I met, dated, and married Mike. A lifelong Christian, who says he is politically moderate (because he is open minded), but actually sounds pretty conservative if you listen to any of his beliefs. And he was impressed by my accomplishments career-wise, but even maybe more impressed that I went from liberal to more conservative, and new-age to Christian, and that I let it all burn in order to say what I believed about first the government, and ultimately, about Jesus.

And, lo and behold, he wanted to get married to someone and have her be able to stay home with kids, if possible. He wants to be able to be the sole provider, if necessary. And, if I can write, and if I want to write, and God wants me to write, then he wants me to write. If I make money, he wants me to make money. But he doesn’t want me to feel the burden of any of it.

It is the perfect combination of freedom, and the tradition gender role financial provision I was hoping for. He even does the dishes, often.

I’ve even questioned him doubtfully: Are you sure you aren’t going to resent me for all this?

And the answer is no.

Our only problem is…