I wanted to eat alone, and then I felt guilty for wanting it

Dear Delyara, Dinner is supposed to be togetherness in our house. It’s one of the few times of day when we are all in the same room at once without somebody rushing out the door or half-looking at a screen. I know that matters. And yesterday, all I wanted was to sit at the edge of the bed with a plate and no conversation. No one did anything wrong. That’s what made the feeling harder to admit. The children were noisy in the ordinary way. My husband wanted to tell me about his day. Someone spilled juice. Someone else couldn’t find the right fork. It was just family life. But my body had no appetite for relational sound. I ate at the table anyway. I smiled when appropriate. I answered. I mothered. But a private part of me stayed fixed on the fantasy of eating in silence. I think that’s the kind of truth women often don’t say out loud because it sounds ungrateful. It isn’t ingratitude. It is fatigue with being continuously entered.