Ugh okay I’m like, really struggling with something and I don’t even know why I’m typing this out. It’s probably going to sound stupid or like, I’m complaining about something good, which I’m NOT, but I just… I don’t know. I can’t talk to anyone about it. Not really. So, you know, at work, things have been… really good. Like, surprisingly good. I’ve been there forever, practically, since before the kids were even a thought, and I’ve always just done my job, you know? Kept my head down. Executive Assistant, that’s me. Making sure the big wigs actually *do* what they’re supposed to do. And I’m good at it! Like, really good. I know how to get things done, how to smooth over the rough spots, remember everyone’s coffee order, the whole thing. And last week, my boss, she pulled me into her office. And I thought, oh god, what now? Is someone complaining about the breakroom again? Is it my turn to organize the holiday party committee? I swear, I spend half my life at work organizing things no one else wants to do. But no. She closed the door, which is always like, a little ominous, right? And she sat me down and she said… she said they want to promote me. To like, a *real* management position. Not just managing schedules, but like, managing a whole team of EAs. My own team! And a big ol’ raise, like, a SIGNIFICANT raise. Like, a ‘we can actually stop worrying about that one credit card bill that just keeps going up’ kind of raise. And you’d think I’d be ecstatic, right? OVER THE MOON. And I was, for like, five seconds. I even teared up a little, which was SO embarrassing. She thought I was happy crying, but it was… more complicated. Because then, almost immediately, this like, dread washed over me. Because of *him*. And the kids. You know? My husband, he’s been home with the kids for years now. Since the twins were little, and then our oldest went off to college, he just… kept doing the house thing. And he’s good at it! Seriously. He cooks, he cleans, he does the laundry, he handles all the appointments for the youngest, who’s still in high school. He’s like, Mr. Mom, but he HATES that name. And he’s always been so supportive of *my* career, you know? Like, “go get ‘em, honey, I got this at home.” And I believe him. I do. But this is different. This isn’t just me being the breadwinner anymore. This is… me being the *big* breadwinner. Like, my income would almost double his unemployment plus the little side gigs he does. And I know it sounds crazy, but I just have this horrible feeling that he’s going to… resent it. Like, he’ll say he’s happy for me, but inside, he’ll feel like less of a man, or something. Even though he’s the one who *chose* to stay home. He could’ve gone back to work, but he said he liked being there for the kids. And I believed him then too. And the kids! Our youngest, Sarah, she’s still home, like I said. And she’s already a bit… sensitive, you know? What if she starts saying stuff like, “Mommy’s never home anymore!” Or, “Why does Daddy always have to do everything around here because Mommy’s too busy making all the money?” It’s not like I’m going to be working crazy hours. Just… more hours. More responsibility. More travel sometimes, maybe. And it’s just… it’s a whole *thing*. A big shift. I haven’t even told them yet. I have to give my answer by Friday. And I’ve been just making excuses for why I’m staying late, or why I’m distracted. And I just keep picturing his face, you know? Like, that little flicker of… something. When I tell him. Or when the money really starts coming in and he has to like, adjust to not being the main one bringing in *any* money. And I just… I don’t want to mess up what we have. It’s not perfect, but it’s *our* thing. And I’m scared to break it. I really am. What if they all start acting weird around me? What if he starts making passive aggressive comments about my hours? Or the kids get distant? I just… I don’t know if it’s worth it. Even though it *is* worth it. To me. To my career. To have that like, recognition. But is it worth what it might do to them? To us? I just keep going back and forth, back and forth, and I’m just so tired. And I don’t want to be selfish. But I also feel like… I deserve this, you know? Like, for ME. After all these years. But then I feel guilty for even thinking that. Ugh. I should probably just go to sleep.