Irish Sunday Mirror

Don’t act the hero..it’s no use to anyone

- SIOBHANO’CONNOR

HAVE I been creating my own campaign of misery by being the “hero” in my relationsh­ip?

My partner John has been working away on a film set for the past few months.

It’s been incredible to see him doing what he loves, hobnobbing with the cast and crew of a pilot he’s working on.

Every time he sends me a video of behind the scenes footage on set in Limerick I’m chuffed that he’s doing what he loves.

Then when I hear he’s off to dinner with the cast or he’s having a quick bite in a cafe famed for hand-crafted sourdough, a pang of jealousy engulfs me.

Instead of eating bloody gourmet sourdough I’m in the trenches of domesticit­y.

He phones me that evening and I’m a bitch.

It’s 9pm, he’s off to bed in his hotel and I haven’t even eaten yet.

I make sure to tell him how busy I am, like my manic day is a badge of honour.

I list everything, cleaning up dog poo as our puppy Peanut still isn’t toilet trained, emptying the dishwasher, doing school pick-ups and collection­s from activities and trying to hold down my job.

Pathetic really as he’s off helping to earn us a living and I’m being a cow.

It dawned on me when he came back on Friday that I’ve been making myself miserable, almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I had a face on instead of hugging him when he walked in after working a 13-hour shift.

John told me he’d love it if I smiled when I saw him instead of complainin­g.

My heart wrenched, I love him so much and I had been wallowing in my downtrodde­n ‘poor me I do everything’ vibe. I

realise now on Saturdays when he’s home it’s like I’m diseased with the hero addiction.

I’ve been subconscio­usly busying myself in front of him to show him just how much I do when he’s not here.

It took injuring myself to cop on. In short, I go so into hero overdrive on his birthday, emptying the bin and telling

him he can’t lift a finger as it’s his special day.

Then I come out of the bin house in our estate and whack my forehead into the iron clad door that I hadn’t seen.

I was in agony after the wallop. I had to put a steri-strip on my cut nose and for John’s birthday dinner I looked like I’d been beaten up.

Bingate has taught me a valuable lesson. Every time I notice my bruised forehead it reminds me to slow down.

No one person is the “hero” in a relationsh­ip, it’s a two-way street.

I told John I needed more help.

I’ve since roped in more babysitter­s and asked my mother-in-law to take my girls for a few hours after school.

The place looks like a bomb hit it, I haven’t checked the girls’ homework.

But I’ve washed my hair, had fun with the girls and John hasn’t left me yet for being such a B.

I’ve let go of trying to do everything perfectly alone midweek.

The only person I was making miserable by being the hero was myself.

 ?? ??
 ?? ?? LOOKING GRAPE Former supermodel Cindy Crawford
LOOKING GRAPE Former supermodel Cindy Crawford
 ?? ?? Siobhan bruised her face while emptying the bins
Siobhan bruised her face while emptying the bins
 ?? ?? RUBBISH IDEA
RUBBISH IDEA

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