The Value of Work

 Over a year since the first lockdown. Lots of comments on the news. We've been through a lot while staying put, haven't we? There were so many ideas during the time, especially at the beginning: about community spirit, self-improvement, learning to appreciate the little things, all noble and nice. But what have we learnt?

One of the things that was talked about a year ago was the value of home work. Something that is done in a rush, always inconvenient, offloaded to someone whenever possible or affordable. With all of us staying home, home work was not furloughed, quite the opposite, it multiplied.

I am a housewife. That is my official title. A yogini, writer, mother, sister, dog walker, photographer, knitter, artist - fancy words, but when it comes to the box ticking exercise, housewife it is. None of the things that fulfil me and make me happy bring in any income, therefore they are hobbies. I am not paid for the housework I do either. Therefore it doesn't count, it seems. But by doing it and by taking care of all the errands and child care duties I give husband the opportunity to do his job, travel, work at variable times. He supports the family. He is the person of value, he provides. What do I do?

Often, it seems like nothing. I was even introduced like that by dear husband when a new neighbour came over to meet us. 'Lucinda does nothing.' I was reminded about that old grudge of mine recently, just as we were listening to the news on the radio. They mentioned that women took on more of the housework and childcare during the lockdown. Husband commented: 'Well, more women than men were furloughed, so they weren't doing anything anyway.' Where do I start this argument, I thought to myself.

The work that goes into the creation of a home is invisible to half of the population, it seems. It is something that happens, gets done, is easy, even nothing. They only notice it when nobody is there to do it for them. Most of the work has to be planned, because for a home to run smoothly, you have to be on top of things. Shopping, cleaning, maintenance, repairs, cooking, laundry, bills, appointments, gardening..... everything has to be thought about in advance, and then it has to be done. Preferably properly, which means that nobody notices it actually happened. And therefore it becomes as invisible as a woman after her 35th birthday.

Ever since that comment, I remind husband that he is doing nothing and therefore he can do this or that. But the thing is, I don't want to do that. I don't want to keep telling him what needs to be done, why, how, when, and why I can't, or won't do it myself. It is easier to do it myself. Which he knows. And of course, he will just wait for me to do it. It is a stupid, endlessly repeated circle.

Nobody learnt the value of housework apart from the people who did it for the first time in years - professionals who could afford nannies, cleaners, dog walkers, and who supported many jobs in the same way husband supports my existence while I (apparently) daydream. The people who found themselves staying at home, working from home, and have met the second shift they forgot existed, were supposed to realize the value of house work. But did they?

I was bringing up our child with no help, there were no friends or relatives to turn to. Which was fine, we knew it would be so. But I still remember how we started the nursery after dear child was three years old. Fifteen hours a week - three morning, full day on Thursday, home on Friday. And many people asked me: 'What will you do now?' As if the time between drop off and pick up was an endless sea of work opportunities. When, true to be told, I just wanted to get the chores done without them being undone by a child crawling behind me... What can you 'do' in the small time given in the nursery year?

I admire people who started a business from the kitchen table, published a book, became influencers, studied and graduated, while having one child after another. And I salute all working mothers. But is it so bad to admit that I don't want to do laundry at ten at night, clean the house over the weekend, and shuffle child from school to club to friends for dinner, and work only to pay for the extra hours of care? When I had a baby, something I wasn't even sure would happen to me, I stayed with the baby. Because bringing up a baby takes time, so does recovery. Other issues slowed me down later, I am slowly picking up speed, but I can't remember the last day that felt free, truly free. Every day is dotted by small and big things that need to be done. The little, invisible, invaluable work. We will return to the new normal, the economy will pick up, I hope we will all do and be well. We will never forget the pandemic. But will we value the invisible jobs? Maybe when we start valuing carers, helpers, child minders, cleaners.... It will probably take a while.

Recovery

 My shoulder is slowly but surely making progress. It was frozen and had an impingement, too. Last year, I couldn't lift my arm. Now I struggle to put it behind me and up, the sort of movement you do when you fasten your bra. But I am so used to a much less elegant way of putting it on by now, and it is no longer painful. I've adapted. Last year, everything was painful...

I have a practise log in my yoga corner and a year ago, pain in shoulders was already noted quite a few times. It is a long term issue. In the log, some sets are noted by names I gave them, and they were missing for a long time. It is funny, how one problematic part influences the whole body. Even now, getting better, turning my neck isn't the same as it was before. The affected side is different. Because when one part of the body is injured, other parts compensate for it and become affected, too. And each limb is important in the whole range of motions we need in our life.

I welcome the fact that I can do some things again. Other things are a work in progress. This month, I am working with the triangle pose - Trikonasana. Not long ago, it was too difficult to even try, I felt pathetic. These days, it isn't perfect, but there is a way to it and it allows me to stretch in a weird and comfortable way. A posture that essentially comes from the hip shows how the body is connected and how the stretch and breath flows everywhere. I can see how far I can stretch, how I can position myself, what I am allowed to do safely. I can mourn the old me - effortless and flexible. But I enjoy the new me, injured and recovering, because I am getting to know me better. Some days, I notice a progress. Other days, I feel as if the stiff arm is pulling me back.

Injury is never easy and straightforward. But healing is a good process to bring new motivation, appreciation and perspective. I don't follow the physio routine that took me through the worst months very much, I am now confident in doing what I know I can do and finding the way that yoga helps and works. I wouldn't recommend it to a beginner, but a seasoned practitioner surely understands how satisfying it is to adapt something they've missed for so long and use it to feel better. I don't know when I will be fully recovered, but that's OK. As long as I don't hurt and see improvement, I don't mind.

I also try to build up strength. I had to take it easy during the injury. I did simple, gentle practise and the physio. When I started trying flowing practise such as Sun Salutations, I noticed how unused I've become to holding my own weight. These days, I can again hold a plank position without a problem. Same with Downer Dog. It was impossible last year. I've built it up over the winter months, step by step. But a shoulderstand or a headstand are still on my wish list. This side of movement - behind me or over the head - is still a work in progress. I do miss that, and the time will come that I will enjoy them again. Yoga has so much to offer in any circumstances life throws at us, it will never stop to amaze me. Namaste.

A Woman's Week

 Happy Mothers' Day. I decided to wake up and make my own breakfast. Reason one: I love a little bit of peace and quiet in the morning. Reason two: I did try to do the big 'treat me today' thing and demanded a breakfast brought in by dear family in the past, but it isn't worth it. If I have to ask for it, wait for it, and receive something that I could have done better, what is the point? If husband really wanted to spoil me, he would have made the effort. But he can't be arsed, obviously. And dear child is snotty after first week in school. So, yes, have a snooze and leave me alone.

The week started with International Women's Day and ended with mothering Sunday. And during the week we had the Meghan interview, the statistics about how women did more unpaid family work during the pandemics and lockdown, and, mostly, the sad case of Sarah Everard. To wake up on this very day and see women being handcuffed on the news is just not right. And yes, we shouldn't gather during the pandemic. But I didn't see the same strong action when (mostly) men celebrated some football title or game or something more than once.

How to get it right? I could elaborate on every single issue this week, because they all resonate and I have something to say about them. But I don't have the energy today. Last few days on Twitter, I've only read post after post of: this or that thing happened to me, and said silently: yes, me too. I saw the men reactions (not all men, more men are killed, etc) and heard their echo in my home. When these issues pop, the inevitable discussion by the dinner table is frustrating.

I've taken things for granted for so long, it is nice to see that women and girls now say: no, it isn't right. I was always told not to talk to strangers, never to go into anybody's car no matter what they say, to be careful, to try and not walk alone after dark... And I've never questioned it. When I was younger, I would never have thought to say: why don't you educate men better? Not because we blindly assumed that all men are horrible. But because we assumed that it is indeed our responsibility to prevent ourselves from meeting the bad ones. The good men were meant to be respected, not questioned, and educated. It was our business to exist in their world, basically. So yes, let's change things. Girls and women still need to be careful, same as we look before we cross a road. But I hope that we will get rid of this stupid assumption that when something bad does happen it is because we were out late, skimpily dressed and possibly drunk. That the victim is always judged first. If the victim is a woman, of course.

When I grew up and gradually learnt that happy ever after is an illusion, I've discovered a thing nobody wants to agree with: being single is great. Having a boyfriend and not living with him is even better. Freedom is good. We aren't meant to think it or say it out loud. It makes us seem weird, antisocial and antipatriarchal crazy feminists. But. There is a thin line where everything I did in one way proved me right in a sense that independence is great and women deserve it. In the other way, it made life too easy for men. Because I was so wrapped up in my independence project, but I also still somehow believed that men are important and it is my job to make them happy and respect them. So by giving them what they wanted, which is at the end of the day sex with minimum strings attached, and proudly demanding nothing in return, I was  enabling them living an easy life, using me.

Then I've met a man I cared about. And he loved me. And he was also an workaholic and my independence suited him. But I also hoped that the time came to have more and live in a serious relationship. I hoped that he will be the one I will figure out the together thing with. He made the right noises, mentioned future, even kids. The problem was that I listened. And then announced to him that I quit the pill. He was beside himself. Why would I do that? Well, how else do you make babies? Yes, he did mention children, but he meant sometimes in the future, not now. But why not now? I thought about it and realized that the right time will be never. So why not just go for it and figure it out as we go? He didn't end it, but became very careful in bed. I learnt to exist without a pill, went through a stage of absolutely horrible skin, recovered, and figured out what a real menstrual cycle feels like. I liked it and decided not to take the pill again. Then I left the man I loved because I finally, after all these years, understood that men will say whatever to get what they want, but if they really want to do something, they generally tend to do it without talking about it at length.

I could have probably stayed with the lover for a little longer and just exist, but I was over him and over it. And I have met a man who actually wanted to live with his partner and do the everyday stuff that I never figured out how to do. He is now my husband. And the together stuff is great in the beginning, but eventually you catch up and close the circle. And find out that the super sensitive and nice bloke who helps with the dishes and does the heavy lifting and catches the spiders also doesn't really listen to you, also puts his interests first, and also has flaws. But by now, as a woman, I am over it. I accept the way things are and the last solution I would try would be looking for somewhere where the grass is greener. Because it isn't. I wish I was rich enough to afford to live on my own, but I can't, and to be honest, I work hard on this home and want to keep it. And I can do things that I love doing, even if they don't make money, and it means a lot to me, that husbands is fine with a housewife with potentially lucrative hobbies that aren't lucrative. Because he is taken care off and I don't demand much of his time or attention. So everybody wins.

Where do I end? This post took me somewhere completely else than I thought it would. As a woman, I had to learn a lot to navigate the world. And I am still learning. Most of what the older generations passed on to me was useless. I hope I will pass on better things. I won't tell my daughter that certain behaviour or look will deter men. I also won't tell her that she has to be worthy of a man - somehow good enough to deserve him. I will never imply that a marriage and a family are the biggest measures of success. I will however point out the power of independence. And the right to say no to something that doesn't feel right. Even if it makes her unpopular. Because it is not her job to please everyone. I would love to tell her that we are all equal. But we are not.