What do you do all day?

The sensational life of the one who "sits at home".

Photo by Roberto Nickson on Unsplash

Among the many mysteries of the world, is the mystery of the woman who stays home and does not go out for work. Ever since I quit my full-time job in academia, I have often been asked, “What do you do all day?” I have built a relationship with this question. That is because this question is familiar to me. There was a time when I was neck deep in the media industry, working for a bustling radio station and rubbing shoulders with the who’s who of the entertainment world. I would ask the same question to women who were not working out in the world and staying home to look after their family, while their husbands worked to support them. I never received a straight answer and I imagined them sitting on a sofa, watching TV and munching on snacks, because in Hindi we call an unemployed person someone “jo ghar par baitha hai”, which quite literally means “the one who is sitting at home”. But life had already found a way to answer my question. And it did so when almost a decade later, I made the same choice - to sit at home.

Life came full circle when a few months after my resignation, a family member asked me, “What do you do all day?” I was still reeling from the shame of giving up a very good job. Every time this question was asked, it would send me spiraling into why I had quit. I would get lost and would mumble something mindlessly. It wasn’t a straight answer. The person would walk away feeling confused. And I would walk away feeling even more ashamed. I felt like I needed to justify my decision. But the unresolved feelings in my own heart about this decision clouded my thoughts.

I realized that I could only answer this question once I had sat with myself and figured out why I quit in the first place and cleared it out for myself. So I began to write down my “why”. Many drafts were written. The first few ones were full of blame. But I didn’t like the sound of them. They didn’t make me feel good. They made me feel weak. Was I really that weak? That gullible? No, no that couldn’t be my “why”. So I dug deeper. Were others really to blame? Or was it something about me that made me take the step. At this point, dear reader, let me tell you that I am exceptionally good at being hard on myself. So from blaming others, I decided to shift the blame to myself. I began to believe that it was my mental and physical health, my imposter syndrome, my guilt, my lack of vision, my low energy levels, and many other things that were mine that had caused it to happen. That didn’t work well because every time I would give this answer, I felt like I had indeed made a mistake and began to fall deeper into shame. At the same time, the ones questioning me would begin giving me examples of women who had overcome all these obstacles to ace their jobs. The question “What do you do all day?” continued to hang over my head. I couldn’t yet tell them what I did all day. So I told them, “I am still looking for work.” And to make this lie a truth, I would look for work. I would give interviews. I would meet people and share my resume. I would lurk on LinkedIn hoping to justify my “sabbatical”. I didn’t want to “not work”. I didn’t want to be the woman who sat at home. And unfortunately, I didn’t get any work.

But here’s the strange thing. I wasn’t able to sit at home. I was always on my feet. Years and years of neglect had left me with piles and piles of things we did not need. So I began to sort through things and give them away. It has been two years and I am still not done. This is a lot of work. Yes, when I get tired, I sit on the couch, have a snack, and watch TV. I take a short nap in the afternoon on days when it is possible. Why? Because I want to fill my cup before my child comes back from school and takes over the house. I think the “sitting at home” bit is just 30 mins of the whole deal.

As I sort through my possessions, memories come. I remember how I would spend money mindlessly on books I had not yet read and clothes I had outgrown. As I began to give away things, it felt like my mind began to clear up. I started getting new ideas. I decided to start working out and though weight is harder to shed than possessions, I began to move my body in ways I had never imagined. I have never resisted anything more in my life than exercise. I sometimes lie to my trainer about my warm-ups and during my work-out I think of the excuses I will make about not sticking to her nutritional recommendations. I began to go to the vegetable market in a bid to complete my daily step count. I look for interesting podcasts that will help me survive the dread of going to the gym and moving alongside strangers who, I fear, look at me and laugh, because I truly believe I matter that much and they have all the time in the world to do so. No, dear reader, there is no scope for sitting on most days. I am slow at things and the precious time I get alone at home is stretched thin between chores and needs. Fun is squeezed in between cooking and laundry. Yes, I am counting naps as a fun activity. And truth be told, I have never been as active as I am today. The house won’t let me sit!

I struggled with the lack of a paycheck. My savings ran dry faster than I expected. Asking my partner for money felt like an insult to my intelligence and my capacity to earn money. I felt I had wasted away my education, my experience, and all my skills. But even though I was feeling this way, I was able to spend time doing tarot readings, attending writing workshops, and working on my first book of poems. I was able to host friends, attend school events, and visit members of my prayer group. I wasn’t making money but I was earning in other ways. But my brain wasn’t convinced. I still felt that a successful woman is one earns a salary that allows her to be financially independent. But there was a part of me that was beginning to understand that to be able to work is a privilege and to be able to stay home is also a privilege. And that the two cannot and must not be equated.

I now think about the past version of me and wonder how she did it all. And then I correct myself. She didn’t do it all. She was struggling. She let a lot of things be. She let a lot of things go unattended. I meet friends who tell me about how they are on the verge of leaving their jobs because there is too much to do at home and outside. The ones who are able to manage to stay are doing so because they have supportive family members and staff to look after them and those that need them. And it isn’t always simple even when you have all the help you need. What a woman does all day is figure out ways to be in ten places at the same time.

Whether she is at home. Or outside. Working for a living. Or working for her family. A woman is always at work. Sometimes she is paid in money. Sometimes in time. Sometimes in a nap. Sometimes in extra screen time. Sometimes in a new hobby that she will discover. Sometimes in a book that she always wanted to read. Sometimes, something. Sometimes, nothing. Yet, she works.

The last time I was asked “What do you do all day?”, I invited the person to come and spend a week with me and see what I do. There is no other way to know, is there?