Lamentations of a Middle Age Housewife

Poem about middle age and depression in women

My husband is distant, my kids act like brats
I have wrinkles galore and I also have fats
My boss is a nightmare, my pay is a joke
Life gets more expensive while I get more broke

Nothing I do seems to turn out quite right
My hobbies fall flat. I’m in quite a plight.
The collectors are calling, they won’t be appeased
To top it all off, the poor dog has fleas

My parents are aging and they need my help
But what aid am I when I can’t aid myself?
The house is a mess (I’ve no strength to clean)
I don’t even care.  I feel useless and mean.

I’d talk to the doctor if some help I might reap
But I know the solution and drugs don’t come cheap
Though my job is a pain, at least I still have one;
I wouldn’t for long, if they knew I’d come undone.

So I sit and do nothing but brood all day long
No smile on my face; this depression is strong
My kids try to hug me, I just sit and stare
I know how it hurts them, but can’t start to care

Life’s lost its magic, but still I am here
Not selfish enough yet to cause them more tears.
I’m alive but I’m not, just a shell, just a frame
It just isn’t fair to be swallowed by pain

Strong is what everyone’s Mom ought to be
If it needs to be done, then it’s up to me
I’m the fixer of hurts, the cleaner of messes
The finder of lost things, the mender of dresses

Bills need to get paid and I must find a way
To feed my whole family on such paltry pay,
Go to work, pay the bills and keep up our home
No wonder I end up by feeling alone.

If 40 is ‘mid-life’, then the ‘crisis’ I’ve found
I think I’d be more use to the bugs in the ground
I know I need help but I really don’t care
Mental illness is common; acceptance is rare.

What would I lose if everyone knew?
Would the state take the kids?  Would my husband leave too?
Would the world sit and laugh at the chick that flipped out?
Would their sympathy help or just make me shout?

Do I suffer in silence? Or beg for some help?
Is it better to bear it or give in and yelp?
Can I treat myself, without saying a word?
Google is useful for these things I’ve heard.

It says if I want to get better, I can
But I have to have help and I need a plan
I can keep it private from most other folks
But not from the people who love me the most

I need their support, their love and their time.
I need them to know that with help I’ll be fine.
We all need to change, to be good to each other.
It’s not just about ‘his wife’ or ‘their mother’.

It didn’t just happen one day, overnight
And things won’t get better without a good fight.
But I’ve started the journey by telling just one.
The clouds are still there, but behind them, the sun.

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed