We were at our first accommodation in Bali.

So weird. Everything. First time on another continent. (Read more about this in another article.)

We needed to change houses, and I found a new listing in Kuta on Airbnb — one that needed reviews, so it had a much lower price than what it actually offered: 3 bedrooms, an outdoor kitchen and living room, a half tennis court, a huge saltwater pool, and a cook every day.

It sounded perfect, so we booked it for a few days.

I was in shock when we got there.

So beautiful. Too beautiful. For me.

I felt out of place.

What if someone saw me and confused me with a rich person?

The next morning, three maids appeared out of nowhere. The cook brought his own ingredients and started preparing the meal. The pool guy and gardener showed up by turn.

Literally… what I had dreamt of as a mother of small kids for years.

I had called it in. Let it go. And then… never expected it.

(This is the deal-breaker — why manifestation often doesn’t “work.”)

Who knew that just moving countries could unlock your wildest dreams?

The house, the space, the warm climate, the sun, someone else cleaning, someone else cooking. And when one of the cleaning ladies said she could take our laundry and return it clean, dry and folded… I was speechless.

Literally… what I had dreamed of came true. All at once. In a full package.

I felt like a fraud.

It felt too luxurious.

It was too much.

What am I left to do… if all this is taken away from me?

This is why… for so many years… I dreamt of help but never asked for it.

Because if I delegate… what do I do?

I had nothing else.

Who am I if I’m not the one who cleans, who feeds the kids, who does the laundry, who brings in the shopping?

Who am I if not the woman complaining that I have to do it all?

I couldn’t give up that identity.

So we moved.

It was out of our budget anyway.

But we had to dip our toes into that kind of life.

To see if would be a fit.

I realized… 5 of us, plus 4 staff in the house, the pool guy and gardener included, was too much for me.

I didn’t feel safe.

My internal alarms started shouting: get out of here. Reject it all. This translated into… hiding from the cook and the maids… and everyone. I was simply ashamed to be there.

In the next accommodation, we had a man cleaner.

That was new.

So he was missing details a woman can see — but the fact that he was washing the dishes? OMG. Best help ever.

I started to…get used to it… accept it. He cleaned every other day, so this gave me space to start to feel safe.

To not hide anymore. To try to greet him with a smile.

It was included in the price, after all. If it was not included, I could never have asked for help. Because I had the belief “ the woman should do it all by herself”.

It started to feel nice. Having someone else to share the tasks with.

Of course, I cleaned before he came in — I was deeply ashamed of how much mess three small kids could make.

They were 5, 4, and 1½ at the time.

And so, a new identity began to emerge. Because the space was being cleared. I had time to put something else in.

The career woman.

I started to build something. Rainbows :P

(Because if it has not been included. I would never have asked for help.

So now at least I know. One cleaning lady or man is enough. Ordering in food is the best.

Cause one can dream.. and find out that dream was never theirs.)