an irony

During my childhood, i often heard people say tgat money alone could never bring peace and happiness... Back then, I believed thise words without a second thought.. But after going through postpartum struggles, i began to question everything i had once believed...
This happened a couple of months ago, during a festive season at my in-law's house.. I was given the entire responsibility of preparing dishes for the occasion.. Almost all the kitchen work fell on my shoulders and alongside all those responsibilities, i had baby to take care of...
After spending a day shopping for groceries, i was expected to cut chicken, beef, pork and different kinds of seafoods... There was no one tonhelp me.. I could hear my baby crying, longing for my attention but i couldn't always put down my work to hold her... I was caught between my responsibilities in the kitchen and my responsibilities as a mother...
I kept working, hoping that someone might notice my efforts.. Perhaps someone would offer a helping hand, appreciate what i was doing or simply ask if i was tired...
But at the end of the day, therewas no words of appreciation. No one seemed to notice how much i had done or hiw exhausted i felt... I felt like an unpaid cook, an unpaid butcher and an unpaid servant...
My mind went blank.. I wasn't looking for a reward or a grand gesture.. All i wanted was a hug from some one whi understood my struggles... I longed for a few comforting word, a little reassurance that i wasn't alone
But there was no one.
Eventually, i reached a point were i needed professional help. I decided ti consult a counsellor and went there with my baby ...
I received a token and waited for mybturn.. When the counsellor finally called me in, i began to open up... I poured out the frustrationsi had been carrying inside me and spoke about the thoughtsi struggled to express to anyone else...
For now, i had someone who listened... Someone whi allowed me to speak without interrupting me.. Some one who gave me the space to release the emotions i had been holding inside for so long...
As the conversation continued, i began to feel lighter.. The heaviness in mymind slowly eased.. I felt a sense of relief, as though ibhad finally found a safe place to putdown the burden i had been carrying...
For those moments, i felt peaceful and understood..
And then came the bill...
The amount i had to lay for that session left me shocked.. I had finally found some peace but i had to pay for the privilege of being heard..
What an irony!
All my life, ibhad believed that money could not buy peace and happiness.. Yet here i was spending money to find the peace that i couldn't find in my own surroundings...
Perhaps money cannot buy every kind of happiness.. But sometimes, it can buy access to persons who listens, a space where we can speak freel and professional support when we need it mist..
And that thought left me with another uncomfortable question : what happens to those who cannot afford it?
I cannot deny the relief i felt after speaking with the counsellor.. I am grateful that i had the opportunity to seek help but i also wish that the people around ys would understand that emotional support is not a luxury. Sometimes a little kindness, a helping hand or a sincere hug can mean more tha we realise. Still, life has its own ironies...
I once thought peace was something money could never buy.. Now I know that finding it sometimes comes with a price tag...
And as for me?
I cannot afford to keep paying those bills, sio, for now, i must say goodbye to the counsellor's room- not because my frustrations have disappeared, but because my pockets cannot keep up with the price of peace