FROM MY LIFE

The Negative Feelings Associated With Hiring A Cleaning Lady

When feelings of shame overwhelm me, I try to remind myself of the positive sides

I moved in with my husband in August 2004, and at the time his mom, who was weakly after a stroke some years before, also lived with us. Where my husband is disabled — he’s an amputee — he did his part in the house, and as the children grew up, we engaged them too.

We live in a four-bedroom house, with three bedrooms on the first floor, and the fourth in the attic. The house is large, with its 122 square meter living space, and since it’s a corner house, we have a garden at the front, the back, and on the side. This means lots of work to keep everything clean and tidy, but even though my husband and I both worked 34 hours per week, we managed.

Then in September 2016, he started having problems with his stump, making walking difficult, and doing chores even more so.

By the end of 2020, both children had moved out, and in March 2021, my husband had a stroke, and the doctors diagnosed him with metastasized thyroid cancer. He went from hundred to zero in a split-second. There was no way he could help in the house anymore, and everything rested on my shoulders.

Maybe I would’ve been able to handle it all if my mental health didn’t take a hit too. By the end of 2021, I resented the fact I had to do all the cleaning. At the beginning of 2022, I told my husband I would hire a cleaning lady. He wasn’t fond of the idea, but understood the housework was getting too much for me, so reluctantly agreed.

At the end of January 2022, my first cleaning lady started. Unfortunately, she didn’t live up to my expectations (which really aren’t that high), and despite pointing out where she should improve, she didn’t. After her third time working here, and arriving late on two occasions offering no apology, I informed her she didn’t have to come back — one of the hardest things I had to do!

Less than a month later, I had a new cleaning lady, and now, seven months later, she still works for us.

In those seven months, there had been many negative feelings. Not that of others, but my own.

I’ve had many moments where I felt ashamed of having help in the household. I mean, I am 55, and my cleaning lady is 54. If she can do this work, I can too, right?

And yes, I can definitely do the housework. I just can’t do everything.

I still do the laundry and the ironing, and cleaning the beds. I tidy things up — not that there’s much tidying up to do seeing it’s only the two of us, but it still needs to be done. The only chores my husband and I still share are cooking and the washing up. I have to monitor everything else, as he seems to have lost interest in the everyday household things.

He’s been on sick leave for 19 months now, and I don’t think he will return to work anymore, because of the cancer treatment, and the aftereffects of the stroke. I am still working my 34 hours, 17 of those in the office, the other 17 at home. I still carry the burden of worrying about his health, and worrying about my son, meaning my mental health is also a continuous issue.

With our circumstances as they are, everyone around me — friends, colleagues, family, my coach — thinks it’s perfectly normal for me to have help in the household, seeing our circumstances.

So why do I have these bouts of shame about having a cleaning lady?

Why am I so hard on myself?

Way back, when I just hired help in the household, a dear friend told me to always remember that I am not only helping myself but also helping the person I hire, as they might need the money more than they care to share.

I have always kept that thought in mind.

When I feel the shame, I remind myself: She only comes for three hours every other week, and in those three hours, she cleans all the spaces we frequently use. It’s because of those three hours I have the time to relax on my day off (Wednesday) and partially on the weekends — partially, because there are still chores I do. It’s because of those three hours I can go to our hangout on Saturday afternoons and sit there writing. It’s because of those three hours I can use my Wednesdays to go to the zoo with my camera for a few hours, or go to my daughter, drawing and coloring in my bullet journal. Last but not least, I’m still pulling my weight, while trying to keep a balance between work, caring for my husband, self-care and relaxation.

If ever we move into a home half the size of this one, I will manage all the housework myself again. Sadly, with the housing market as it is at the moment, and my husband’s reluctance to change, a move is not on our horizon just yet.

Up to then, I will have a cleaning lady, and I will keep on reminding myself of how it benefits not only me but also her.

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