How was it for her?
Feeling trapped, mid forties,
3 children with a man she now found, but probably never admitted to herself, she could not stand for the most part.
When she had not a moment to herself.
During the evenings at home when everybody was driving her mad and while she was doing her endless evening mother chores her husband (who had no doubt worked all day and earned it) was sprawled on the living room couch snoring in front of the TV.
Sure he worked hard, but for her it never ended and she never got to have the "say" on what would or would not be done in her life unless by sly careful, cunning, manipulation.
How did she survive the claustrophobia?
Where did she go for solace?
But then again, she was not much of thinker,
did not have much expectation of life, and those that she did have she pretty much accomplished. Simple enough: A nice home, normal children which she considered beautiful,
a husband who compared to all the fat mediocre other men her friends and neighbors were married to seemed handsome, successful, talented, with a shining career which kept him out of the beautiful home for the better part of the day to boot.
Those were her hours of independence, her time when the kids were in school and he was at work.
She worked too, she worked hard, but it was her freedom time still.
Compliments earned from low men she came across in the markets and shops,
thinking that she was beautiful and cheating time while no one could ever guess she had 3 children no less.
She flourished like that, from those vapid complements, and times when she thought she was different from the rest of them, all of them - life.
She never seemed bored though, she did manage to keep herself stimulated while living in all that oppression.

I watch you, not give up, endless patience. Taking on a project and not letting go for days and nights at at time.
Teaching our daughter to sing, when she clearly is uninterested and doing her best to be done with it and go watch TV. It drives me crazy, I can't listen to the voices, to the effort, to the noise,
I admire you, but I want to scream, I want to scream because I could never do it,
I want to scream because you are driving me crazy and I don't want to be here.
I want to scream because I am not a good enough mother and I never will be.
Because I have no patience and I'm so bored with my life, with being me..
I am bored, but there's nothing I find my heart gravitating toward.
My confidence is squashed to zero and that's because you are the doer and I am the nincompoop.
Because between the two of us I have worked hard to earn this title and now it's too much effort to prove you or myself wrong and become a doer, a writer, an interested and interesting human being.
I have reached a point, a midlife crisis, where my life is nothing, nothing I ever dreamed it would be.
Where my disappointment and disillusionment is so so so I don't know where I could ever turn for a new beginning, I am clueless bored.
Why bored? because I find myself incapable of being, of doing, of having any trust in myself.
I am a shackled prisoner in my own body and soul which I despise.
The best line to describe my thinking at any given moment is "I just want to be left alone!!!!!"
Yes, I know, I am describing a depressed state of mind, I need help, pills possibly?????
But I am a loner at heart, the sort of person who would never turns outwardly for advice or help, and devout autodidact.
If I don't do it myself I won't do it at all.
And you see, there is something, somebody in here, that wants to climb out, because I am writing this.
meditation.