No Freedom

I just heard this Dido song as I was washing up (and am listening to it now) and it awakes in me a wave of emotions.
You know, some days I feel like a desperate housewife already. Instead of looking after children, I have a 24-year-old sister to feed daily and support in times of depression. And I have a 27-year-old grown man to hold in my arms while he's crying over having to take up music classes at the school he works for. All this in the middle of a cold, with a headache and a runny nose to cope with.
Exactly as I reached the end of the previous sentence, he called me on the phone. You know, there's something cosmic about us. I can never let go of him. I know it's selfish to despise him for showing weakness, but I don't know how many times I have felt this strange feeling, a mixture of despair and helplessness, when I looked up on the sky (you know, like this pathetic act of self-pity often seen in soaps and dramas) asking myself "So is this how it always will be?"
I know, marriage is meant to be a bond, come what may. But already I picture myself as some female Atlas carrying the world on her shoulders. Sometimes it feels so good clinging to each other and lying in bed for hours, but sometimes I ask myself, what of our kids? Who is to look after them while I'm holding him and feeling his warmth, or feeling my own warmth and wetness creeping all over my body?
And you know, there's no-one to tell all this to. Mom would only welcome the signs of our broken harmony as a vulture watching the agony of someone dying. For her it would be a perfect moment to repeat for the hundredth time that he doesn't match me at all and that surely I'm meant for someone better(-looking). And Sister? Well, she would turn a face in her usual prudery and ask me please not to go into details.
I can't forget that first confession in his arms when I felt he is the world where I can be truly myself.