He refused to let her work in the job she once held, they moved to a ‘friends’ land in the country. The only work he did was charity, helping to build houses for others, hunting for food, whether it be in or out of hunting season. She and he slept in a room supplied in an old cabin by said ‘friends’. She wondered when they were going to get their own house. She asked him to please let her go back to work so she could contribute funds toward this. He balked and refused.
She looked out from the porch as she watched him gathering materials for the next build and she saw the trees dying within the forest. She saw dead grasses, burned from the sun and lack of water. She was depressed and repressed, unsatisfied, yet loving him still. When would she begin to love herself? When would she give her heart back to her own being?
She woke with a sorrow deep in the pit of her. The need for freedom clawed at her heart, a saddness that the partner she chose could not give an equal share of love to her. He seemed not to care really, whether she was there or not, he just needed her to cook for him, to pleasure him. She felt there was so much more to life, she yearned to assist in building it. There was no one she could talk to, to collaborate with. She was dying inside.