My husband’s family have a business in the countryside, and it has always been expected that we will take it on. When lockdown hit, we leapt at chance to spend some time in a holiday property related to their business out of our small London house with minimal garden. We have three small children, including an autistic child, and we have been struggling with inadequate childcare arrangements for some time (I actually had a breakdown last autumn as a result) and so in some ways the lockdown was a relief.
To cut a long story short, we have decided to make our lockdown move permanent. We have much more space up here and there is only so long we can delay taking on the parents’ business. The complication is that my in-laws are pretty unsupportive of me, my MIL especially, who is Infamously difficult (including telling me to F off repeatedly at start of lockdown in front of the children when I told her to stop trying to pick up my son- she didn’t believe in social distancing, and told me I was oversensitive, despite me being steroid-dependent and at risk). We are now not on speaking terms with them, but they’re still expecting to live on the business premises as we take it on.
I’m not happy. My children are delighted with the space and the fresh air and are having a great time. But I feel utterly isolated. My husband and I don’t have a happy marriage (things have never really recovered after we had our autistic son over five years ago, and I was subsequently diagnosed with two autoimmune conditions via ITU...it’s been a really difficult time) and he routinely makes it clear to me that he’s not really motivated by making me happy and the family business is the priority. As a result, I have found myself up here with three small children, totally isolated apart from being surrounded by a small number of my husband’s family who actively dislike me.
I have become an increasing wreck over the last couple of months. Isolation associated with lockdown makes everything worse of course, but keep crying, am really emotional about leaving London, even though it’s been a really difficult time. I’m now 6.5 hours from my own family and parents’ house, which is the only place which has ever felt like home for me. And I’m doing all this for a man I have no physical relationship with who has never given me an anniversary present and routinely forgets birthdays and Christmas. I want to leave, but that means uprooting the children, who are really happy here, and we’ve found a good childcare arrangement. But I’m so miserable. I’m so depressed I’m actually considering killing myself as I don’t want to leave my children but also concerned about uprooting them.