On being a stay-at-home-husband
I’ve been feeling the happiest, most content, most peaceful I have in many, many years.
All of that is thanks to my wife, who has been in residency since September last year, and earns enough to support both of us, enabling me to stay at home.
How did we get here?
My wife and I returned to Latvia, her home country, in 2018. We immediately pinned down a job at the company of a friend, working at his warehouse.
In the summer of 2019, my wife found employment as a physician’s assistant, which was much better-paid than the warehouse job. I stayed. She left.
In the summer of 2021, my wife was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia. She began the treatment (which, thankfully is very effective, though it hasn’t cured her yet) almost immediately, but her physical state (both due to the disease and the treatment), was pretty bad, so she went on sick leave, and stayed at home. She could only do the bare minimum to help out, while I was working full-time and also lending a hand at home.
I’m mentioning this because it’s something I had forgotten and my wife reminded me off, but I’ll come back to it...
That same summer, I got a job at an office (much better paid than any other job I’ve had), but I only stayed for 14 months. I couldn’t handle the stress, and despite making an insane effort, my performance just didn’t reach the standard that the executive who I was under expected of me. I gave up, and very soon, returned to the warehouse.
Two long years passed by. I began to grow weary of the warehouse job. It felt like I prison. I couldn’t find anything better, nothing that paid more, or was more interesting, and especially nothing that allowed me to take the Sabbath off. The warehouse job did because it was run by people of the same religion as me.
I took a break from that job in late 2024, though I regret that too. My wife insisted that I needed one, because I was on the verge of a burnout, but she was not doing well herself at her new job, which she had started in September 2022. She was assisting children with special needs, which was noble, but draining, and didn’t pay well enough.
In early 2025, we were both jobless and our money was quickly running out. I think it was one of the lowest points in our lives. We both felt aimless. I was then invited back to the warehouse, but I began burning out even quicker than before, since I wasn’t just working on-site anymore, but was doing the deliveries which, let’s just say, was a chaotic mess of a job that (and I don’t say this in jest) made me consider ending it all.
Then my wife discovered a speciality called Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation. To her, it seemed like the answer to everything. I was skeptical at first. Her plan was to go into residency, so she could do something meaningful, something that she enjoys, fulfill her lifelong dream of becoming a doctor, and also earning us more money so we wouldn’t feel anxious about it anymore.
I very quickly realized that her plan would only work under one condition:
I needed to quit my job and become a stay-at-home husband.
With the commute to the hospital where she is employed and everything else, my wife leaves the home every work day at 6 AM, and returns often at 6 PM. Thankfully, she actually does enjoy her work. Again, it feels meaningful to her and she’s also enjoying the learning process. It’s not draining her nearly as much as any of the other jobs, but it’s still quite taxing. Also, keep in mind, she’s not done being treated for leukemia. She’s almost back to normal, but still...
Meanwhile, my job was chaotic. Unpredictable. I fought hard to enforce some kind of schedule on my boss, but he obviously needed every hand that was available. This resulted in me often pulling 10, 11, or even 12-hour work days, at least once a week if not more, and even when the days were shorter, the mismanagement (in my opinion) of the system, made it so that I had to work late into the evening. I was also not eating lunch throughout the day at all, since I had to drive. I had no time to stop and I had to speed around the city like a madman to get everything delivered in time. I was either snacking, or fasting, and then ate lunch right before bedtime. I was literally at the end of a managerial bottle neck, and since I was also at the bottom of the totem pole, no matter how much I complained, nothing was ever changed because no one was going to inconvenience him or herself to help me out.
Again, I was seriously considering ending it all before my wife decided to go into residency. I cannot understate just how deeply depressed I was.
Had we not known from the beginning that my wife would make enough money to support us both, then we wouldn’t have moved forward with this decision.
Between September and December last year (when I finally left the warehouse), I was still doing the full-time job while also taking care of 100% of the work at home. I have no idea how I survived that period. A handful of times I came very close to letting my frustration out on my boss, who I know personally, who is a friend, whom I respect, and who I know is just trying to do his best, but my daily schedule was just spiraling out of my control (it felt as if, the more I tried to reign it in, the more wild it got), and I don’t know if I’m just very weak-willed or whatever, but I was losing my mind. I can’t work like that. I need control over my schedule, or at least, I need a reasonable one, where I can have proper times for meals and for returning home.
So, literally on New Year’s, I began a new chapter in my life, that will, if everything goes according to plan, last at least until 2029.
I’m now a stay-at-home husband.
Sorry for the wall of text, but that was just the introduction.
I needed to give you all that context because I feel extremely guilty for what I’m about to say and am desperately trying to justify it in my mind:
Unless I find the perfect job, I honestly don’t want to go back to work.
Why would I?
Going back to the period when she was on sick leave, she reminded me in one of our conversations on this topic, that even when she has been unemployed, I have still helped out at home, especially back then. In other words, there have been periods when only I was employed, and we were OK with that. Given that we don’t even have children, how could a reversal of those roles negatively affect us? We don’t think that it could, and honestly, it hasn’t (quite to the contrary).
Besides, my wife would be the first to admit that she’s not a “housewife-y” type of person. It’s not that she doesn’t know how to maintain the home, but that’s something she does more out of necessity, rather than pleasure. I won’t pretend that everything I do around the house is pleasurable, but boy, oh boy, do I love having a clean and tidy home! I actually do enjoy my job as a “house-husband”!
Coincidentally, my wife has always been the one who prefers to be outside of the house (and preferably in nature), and I have always been the homebody. I guess we naturally gravitated to those roles?
Regardless, we’re in this weird position where the roles are completely flipped, at least according to 1950s American standards (which may or may not be exaggerated anyway). My wife works outside of home full-time. I’m full-time at home, taking care of all the dishes, the laundry, the trash, the vacuuming, the bills, the finances (before you ask, I manage all the money, but it’s almost all in her account), the groceries, the meals, the cats, and any other errand, so that when my wife comes home, she can simply rest and recharge. Heck, she’s been on vacation since Monday, and I still do probably 90% of all the work around the house, by choice, because I want her to actually have a vacation, to be able to rest and recharge.
I’m really happy with this arrangement. I am. I love that no one is micromanaging my work. I love that I have a strict routine that I imposed on myself. I love that at the end of the day, I actually see the fruit of my labor and get to enjoy some of it myself. First and foremost, however, I love that I’m making my wife’s life easier, and that I’m helping her to work towards achieving her dreams.
I can’t imagine how I could possibly go back to work now.
I mean, if I really had to...
...but what would that even look like?
Again, maybe I’m just too weak-willed, but tell me: Where will a foreigner like me (a Portuguese living in Latvia), who has no education to speak off nor any marketable skills, find a job that gives me Sabbath off, and also doesn’t take away all the time of the day, so that I can continue to take care of the home without completely burning out?
Where will I find a job like that?
I have had endless discussions with my wife about this matter, as well as with other people. My wife is the only one (I think) who understands me. She is actually elated that... I am elated. She’s happy that I’m finally living without stress and that I’m content. She goes to work not worrying about whether I’ll return home that day to complain to her about how I’m at the brink of ending it all. That’s a huge relief for her. It makes it easier for her to face the challenges of residency, which aren’t insurmountable for her, but are still serious.
In other words, if I found any job that is less-than-ideal, one that would start messing with my need for a strict routine and autonomy, then I would just end up all depressed again and drag my wife down with me.
As it is, however, I have been able to even be an emotional support for her, because my own cup isn’t empty. I’m greatly enjoying this life of a stay-at-home husband that I have now. It fills me up somehow.
However, I also feel that I should be able to just... work 16 hours a day, never rest, never enjoy any form of recreation, just push through it, so that I could make more money, and not be financially dependent on my wife. I should be able to do that.
Why am I not?
I don’t know.
I tried in 2025. I really did. I think it was in June or July that year that I did the longest work hours ever in my “career” at the warehouse. I did it intentionally. I just told myself that I was going to become a “real adult” who just stoically powers through it all, because that’s what a man is supposed to do.
I couldn’t though. At some point I felt like I was drowning. I even made some regrettable decisions that summer because of my desperate desire to put an end to it, though I don’t want to get into that...
So, in the deep recesses of my mind, while I am generally feeling contented and at peace, and honestly wish that I could remain a stay-at-home-husband forever, I also can’t shake the feeling that I’m perhaps doing something woefully wrong. Worse yet, my parents obviously do not support my decision (my mother even warned me that my wife might divorce me), and neither do a lot of people in my social circle, who may not say it with their mouths, but clearly say it with their eyes.
I don’t want to wax philosophical about how people’s attitude towards me in this season of my life is the fault of our society for adhering to outdated standards regarding gender roles. I’m not a society. I’m an individual. Even if there is that societal expectation, I’m sorry but... I just don’t care about it. I don’t care to think in those terms. I don’t care to go on a social justice tirade to make myself feel better. It won’t make me feel better.
There have been many moments in my short and fruitless life where I made the right decision, in the face of strong opposition from everyone around me, and I felt completely at peace about it. I’m not feeling differently this time because society is somehow silently rebuking me for not adhering to some standard. People’s attitude worries me (less than it bothers me, honestly) because I myself am in doubt about what I’m doing.
What concerns me the most is: Does God approve of what I’m doing? Should I be out there working? Am I just being lazy? Am I too weak? Am I too close-minded and that’s why I’ve failed to seize on the opportunities that He’s given me to get a better job? Should I perhaps have endured my previous job a little longer, so that I could learn to be... I don’t know, more flexible, more resilient? Am I making a mistake?
To be honest, my gut leans towards a “yes”, and that frightens me.
However, as far as I can see (and I feel that I’m 100% biased here), I can’t find a better alternative. I haven’t found that dream job that addresses all the problems that I have. I’m far too afraid to throw myself out there at some random job that might just push me down that spiral of depression again.
I’m content, more than content, to be just a stay-at-home-husband for now, and to do that to the best of my ability.