Real Talk Time: The Six-Year Secret
Something happened last night.
My husband and I were talking about all sorts of things, including our ambitions and drive. We met as working professionals in Los Angeles theater. Half our attraction and most of our lives were built around storytelling in front of live audiences.
I asked him something I have been scared to ask for years: is he disappointed because I dropped my goals in the theater — because I stopped directing, writing and producing theater — since becoming a mom? The unspoken question underneath is: does that make me less attractive to you?
His response showed me that he was still confused, that he didn’t understand the real reason why I had to drop those. To me, it is obvious. If you know me, you’d know why I can’t direct a show while being the primary caretaker to my kids. But it wasn’t obvious, not even to the person closest to me. So I told him:
“Do you remember all those car accidents and stupid shit I would do while directing shows? How I would neglect every other part of my life: taxes, friends, laundry, dishes and even eating in the days and weeks leading up to opening night?”
Of course, he did. When I asked that question, he had a vivid flashback to meeting me by the side of the road with a new tire, washing fluid, or [insert reason here] why my car was in such horrible shape.
Then I hit the point:
“You don’t want that person in charge of keeping your kids alive, do you?”
That blew his mind. He didn’t know. Of course, he couldn’t understand, because I had never said it out loud.
But just like that, he got it. He said he needs time to really let it sink in and process. His whole way of thinking about our life and me and our goals together was altered, and clearer. It isn’t just about being tired from parenting and working at the same time, or being scared to pursue more challenging projects. Now he knows how I have compartmentalized my stress and the invisible mental load in order to raise our children how we want to raise them.
The sacrifice I made is my creative projects, and my (happy) compromise is my creative nonfiction.
I am so glad I saw that he didn’t see it. And that we have the kind of relationship where we can talk about it.
