It took him a week

I waited—for three long years.

I waited for promises to be kept, for support to arrive, for him to show up like he said he would. But he never did.

In that time, I cried. I raged. I shut down.

I wasn’t asking for the world. I just wanted him to show up for our family, to take care of the simple things—the things that mattered.

The grass in the front yard shouldn’t be a foot high when we own a lawn mower. The garbage shouldn't pile up when the dump is only a block away, especially when my truck is available to use. The dishes shouldn’t grow mold just because I’m not there to clean them. The kids shouldn’t survive on Kraft Dinner and instant noodles for four days straight just because I’m not there to cook. And I shouldn't be breaking my back to hold everything together for our family while you sit back, relax, and still feel entitled to me and my time—time that’s already stretched thin because you refuse to show up.

I’ve had my “stoner chore list” for three years now—a running list of tasks I dream of tackling, things I never manage to get to because my daily responsibilities leave me no spare time. Unless, of course, I get an uninterrupted day without the kids to dive headfirst into it all.

Then my cousin flew in. He came to support me during my ex’s sentencing trial and stayed for just under a week. In that short time, he managed to check off over a dozen tasks from that list—effortlessly. What I begged my partner to handle for three years, he completed without hesitation. In one week, he made my world less chaotic and a little easier to breathe in.

If that doesn’t make you feel invisible and unimportant, I don’t know what will. But thankfully, with a little weed and some self-reflection, I remember one important thing: I’m a badass. And I don’t need anyone to validate that.