In a way, I’ve sort of solved this problem: I’m so disabled that I *can’t* do any of these things myself, and far too fatigued (from the same chronic illness that finally disabled me) to engage in emotional labor. My husband essentially does everything. Does he do it to my standards or liking? Nope. But it’s not as if anybody but us sees it anyway.

(I’m also ftm trans and oddly, I find that now that I don’t identify as female, I do care less about this stuff. Go figure.)