Trad Wife Life: Am I Really Cut Out for it?

For most of my life, I thought I would be a career woman. So how did I end up here?

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I am unemployed by choice. I live with my partner who just bought us a neat little condo on the west side of town. He pays for the majority of our expenses.

A typical day for me starts around 11:30 am. I check my computer, read my emails, and attempt to get some type of ‘productivity’ in. I do not make breakfast, not for myself, nor for my partner. Mostly because I’m rarely very hungry.

I’m not the cleanest person. I leave dishes in the sink, sometimes socks on the ground, and my hair gathers along our white oak floorboards like moss. Every time I vacuum them up, they seem to reappear and multiply like amoebas. I don’t really know how to make the bed the way white moms do it, though I’m learning. I barely know which nails to use when hanging up a painting. Building a piece of furniture takes me roughly 4 hours, and I have to do it with a glass of wine in hand, and some untasteful reality dating show playing in the background.

My free time consists of worrying. Worrying about how I’m going to grow my partner’s (and our) money. Worrying about the ‘incompleteness’ of my newborn home, and filling those empty corners and spaces with statement pieces, furniture, and decor. 

Worrying is rarely productive but it allows me to feel like I’m in control. Before I felt in control by controlling what was going on at work. Controlling the environment and the people, served me well in my role as a manager. Now that I moved on, my anxious mind needed something else to tend to; a new obsession.

The Fascination with the “Housewife” Next Door

In this economy? In 2024? How can one be under 30, a housewife (stay-at girlfriend, to be exact), and not even married?

My friends and I often joke about my fresh occupation as a “housewife.”  One of them curiously asks me what a ‘typical day’ looked like, and even details about what I ate as a “housewife.” I found these little anecdotes to be amusing. It’s the same questions I wondered about the women who didn’t (have to) work and were supported by their financially wealthy husbands. Now, stepping into the shoes of those women, I didn’t find anything particularly interesting to share. In fact, despite what appeared to others as endless travel itineraries, my life was relatively quiet and boring. 

Quiet and boring, but I enjoyed it because for once, home felt like it was my own. I embraced the purity of silence like a religion. Growing up, my home was warm and filled with family, but I occupied a single little space in that 3-bedroom condo. I tried my best to make that room my own, but of course, could not change the innate features of that 20-year-old condo or afford to replace some of the furniture. Everyone’s home is a gateway to the owner’s soul and that homey, eighth-floor apartment was the taste of my parents, and reminisce of the early 2000s. The simple wooden coffee table that my mother scribbled grocery budgets on; the matching floor-to-ceiling cabinets that used to hold a fax machine at the bottom, and a wine and whiskey display at the top; the L-shaped suede couch that sometimes doubled as a bed.

I used to spend all my time outside of the house; in cafes, downtown, and sometimes sleeping over at friends’ for weeks on end. Now I do not desire any of those things. I love my home and all the special details that I have personally poured my heart and sweat into.

Although those details will only stay fresh on someone’s impression for 30 seconds, I know deep down a part of my being is etched into the small details; like the oak shoe cabinet I spent hours building, and then more hours picking up decor, choosing the perfect faux flowers, and then borrowing books at the library just to see what it would like, staged. Am I a little overboard? Perhaps, but it is a hobby that brings me great satisfaction, and an endless pursuit of refinement.

Working, or Rather Lack of 

Don’t get me wrong, I spent the first two months galvanizing in my newfound freedom. If you’d read my last post, you would know I finally called the quits on a draining job. I underestimated the toll the act of quitting itself would take on me, mostly in the form of anxiety and worry. In the month leading up to it, I had ceased my routine of writing and content creation and deleted Instagram from my phone. My entire focus was on how to articulate the fact I was leaving to my boss. At last, when I broke the news it felt like a giant boulder had been lifted off my shoulders. Then came constructing an offboarding plan, hiring the next marketing manager, and training.

My last day was a Friday, and the following Wednesday, I boarded a business-class flight to Las Vegas to celebrate. We spent five days in LV, in one of the premium Marquee suites at MGM, and three of those days we spent at EDC (Electronic Daisy Festival), which was unbelievably fun. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, just the sheer size of it, and I won’t bother going into detail about it because I don’t think I can ever do it justice with just words.

Upon returning from Vegas, we went into move-out mode. House inspections and picking up the keys. Packing up our belongings and ordering a few pieces of furniture to tide us over. The anticipation was gnawing at us as we couldn’t wait to get into our new home. When we moved in, I went into my #softgirl core. I had spent two years and a half hustling for jobs I didn’t love, so you can’t blame me for stepping into my full feminine capacity. I don’t think I opened my laptop once during those two months, besides looking at furniture. 

Living Presently

I spent my days drilling through the forest in the grand park adjacent to my new abode. This park is famous in the city and has the most beautiful, manicured gardens in its core, as well as a famous restaurant that sits atop. Quite hilly though so it was a test of my endurance.

Most of my mental energy went towards furnishing and decorating the house. Given that I’m immensely indecisive, this part was quite stressful at times, though I’ll take it above other types of stress any day of the week. I also got into the routine of walking to the gym, making a stop at Whole Foods afterward, and sometimes picking up fresh flowers on the way back. Nothing brought me more joy than this simple little routine. Not a financial worry in the world, simply existing and living in the moment.

Around my beautiful fluted travertine table, I would prepare candlelight dinners and trade paper towels for reusable earth-toned napkins.

My dining chairs were soft boucle with brass legs to match the cute boucle 2-person loveseat in the living room. The home embodied who I was in a way, so I spared no inkling of energy into developing it. Already I’ve developed cute memories with my partner and with friends. Hosting small dinner parties has become a favorite pastime, and some friends who have known me for more than a decade are still surprised I can cook anything beyond avocado toast.

A Renaissance Hobby

Reading. I haven’t read fiction in years. The only time I picked up a piece of fiction, was my friend Elvira’s debut novel when I was vacationing in Spain earlier this year. I walked to the local library (haven’t been in years) and started borrowing only fiction and interior design books. I read veraciously each night, sometimes during the day. It’s like my insides hungered for consumption and not creation for once. Remember, I had stopped writing altogether, but I consumed like there were never enough crumbs from the last book. In doing so, I discovered different tones of writing, and remain steadily fascinated by the immense talent that exists in the literary world. It’s been a humbling experience, to say the least.

Part of the reason why I stopped reading was because I was so drained from everything else. First, it was five years of forced academic readings, 25-page final papers, and exams. Then came adulting and work, and the most comforting thing was plopping in front of the TV before bed. For once in my life I’m not guided by external forces. I finally could read and get lost in someone else’s words, rather than inspecting and critiquing my own. I enjoyed bedside reading with my partner as he spent his last hour before bed watching videos (how he relaxes), while I cradled next to him lost in a novel. This was my favorite part of the day.

Again, I never felt less stressed about money even though I wasn’t making any. I wasn’t spending a lot either. This is how I realized I had spent so much time and money trying to run from what I hated doing. Yet, in stillness, I found that I could live on little yet be content in my environment. The peace I had inside quelled any desire to overspend or overindulge. 

Of course, it is foolish to believe that one can stay in this era of bliss forever. Without challenge, stimulation, or goals, life becomes painfully boring. That’s when I started thinking about the household finances.

Balancing the Books: More money, more problems?

I grabbed onto the seams of my new life with both hands. I would have done anything not to go back to work. I began thinking more about how to make my partner’s money work for him and me. I started looking into real estate and other types of investment vehicles. It’s true, that people who have money have their own set of problems. I never had to manage beyond a couple tens of thousands. Now scaling that up to hundreds of thousands, perhaps even a million, you start to realize the more you have, the more frantic you are about how to invest it (making the money work for you). I started burying my head in calculations, coming up with spreadsheets, personal expense budgets, and household budgets. I believe that this also brought me a sense of control. 

I needed all the numbers to fit in a perfect little box.

I needed to know that we would be set for life. 

I needed to know that we would be rich.

In truth, it’s not easy to stop worrying about money when you’ve spent most of your life worrying. It’s not something I can just turn off. I spent a lot of my life trying to optimize, to improve, to perfect. Sometimes to my own detriment. 

I’m trying NOT to:

• Overburden my partner with baseless expectations when it comes to money. 
• Let money have control over me like it has for most of my life. 
• Go through life with a scarce mindset.

Scarcity only works up to a certain point. If you want to achieve true abundance, you have to think bigger. You have to think scale.

All this free time has given me space to think about my relationship with money. And I’ve overcome some significant hurdles which I will disclose in my next post. But the fact is, having discipline with money and having financial goals does, in a way, make me happy. It gives me the ability to spend freely and indulge in the things I care about when I know everything is accounted for. This part of the ‘trad wife’ life I duly enjoy, managing the household finances, or as I call myself the “CFO of the household.”

I think all women should take an active part in their personal finances, whether they’re single or in a joint communion. I really believe it’s one of the most rewarding aspects of personal development, is owning your finances instead of letting it own you.

I also noticed something transformative when I started paying attention to the finances. Before I always thought it was everyone for themselves, but now I think what’s the best course of action for the both of us. I want him to reach his financial goals just as much as I want to reach mine. I admittedly haven’t always had this team mentality, and I’m really coming to embrace it with open arms.

The Next Stage

One of the reasons why I stopped posting on social media, was because I found it difficult to summarize all my ideas and thoughts into a 30-second reel, or a short caption. In so, I felt my content becoming a bit one-sided, as an attempt to fit myself into a niche. Femininity, seems cookie-cutter enough, but it is something I am still actively trying to understand. In femininity, rest is supposed to be fundamental, but shouldn’t work also be a part of femininity, instead of enshrined within masculine work culture? Women have traditionally taken care of people, whether it be their offspring, family members, spouses, or friends. 

Taking care of others is hard work. I picture my mother who woke up a 7 am every day to prepare breakfast and lunch for the family, then headed straight to her low-paying, physically taxing job. I am reminded of my partner’s grandmother (God bless her soul), who recently passed, and was as healthy and rich as a GOAT, but spent COVID caring for her dying spouse (who somehow outlived her). 

It’s not as simple as it seems. Of course, I love my rest, spontaneity, and reception of love and masculine gestures. I love wetting my feet in the ocean, dancing under the moonlight, going on day adventures, and dressing up to the nines. But I equally like my routine of getting to work and sometimes in the process, not making the bed perfectly, not eating the healthiest foods, and leaving the dishes in the sink. I love hosting dinner parties, but I don’t always enjoy cooking. In fact, if we had enough money one day, a personal chef would be a dream come true. I don’t necessarily always love tending to the home, and don’t spend hours of my day doing laundry or cleaning. There’s an innate hunger in me for results, and that can not be willed away, or dismissed by my claim to femininity. I am feminine in the way that serves me at appropriate times, but I can’t subject my entire existence and personality to one thing.

As a Sagittarius, there’s a healthy amount of fire and spark in me, that’s not just reserved for romance, but for honest work and progress. What that “work” is, changes over time and I’m starting to embrace the multitude of different seasons in my life.

Leaning into your femininity can be a source of strength and power, but it doesn’t mean you have to be a “trad wife” to unlock it. You’re allowed to bring your femininity to the table as it serves you in the world. And it’s also something you can easily tuck away if you feel like it’s a threat or a point of weakness in certain situations. Don’t let social media misguide you in your personal journey.

I’m neither clawing away at the corporate world nor spending all my time doing embroidery. My life is a balance of trying to make the finances work for us, improving different skills, and allowing myself to feel joy in the “girly things.” I’m so fortunate I no longer have to spend 8 hours of my time being someone who doesn’t feel authentic. And then coming home and using social media as a tool to counteract that, but in an extreme way. 

I’m no trad wife, but I’m glad I am someone’s ‘wife’ forever and always. And I feel privileged that this life is choose your own adventure There are no limits to what you can do, except those that exist in your own mind.