I recently read an “open letter” from a “father” who was experiencing his first time being a stay at home dad. While I appreciate the effort by this male, I can’t help but be annoyed by the article and the popularity it is gaining. For starters this individual is simply feeding into the still living stereotype that men don’t do chores around the house and have no clue where to start. It is basically saying we don’t know how to care for children, we don’t know how to load a damn dishwasher, and we can’t even cook dinner because ONE MAN doesn’t know how and is just now figuring out how much work it is. While I will be the first to admit there are some men that indeed don’t know how to do these things, I will also state that I have met just as many women that don’t know how to perform these daily chores as well. I have met tons of women that can’t cook anything edible, have no idea how to iron, and don’t know what warm, warm, white means. I see no need for ANY MAN to apologize to society for being ignorant on how to perform these tasks.
If you are a father of any worth you should know how to take care of your children without the help of a spouse. If there are things you don’t know don’t apologize for it, learn how to do it! Stop feeding the stereotype that men are worthless around the home and around their families. You may be worthless, but so many of us aren’t. Many of us cook daily, clean daily, and take our turns doing our share of the laundry and chores. Yes it is hard and if you are just finding this out that is YOUR FAULT. Don’t blame it on being a man! Blame it on yourself for never taking the time to learn! Stop lumping me in with your inadequacies. Those are all on you buddy.
I keep sleep at bay with a weary hand as I use my writing hand for writing. Posting in the dark, wondering if anyone can see my words. I trace my soul upon paper white and breath easier from the release. Release of me, release to be me. I am the writing of the moment. Personifying myself with each comma and period. I punctuate my life out of necessity as I search for the real me. He can only be found in one place. A place of solace he has always known. Away from the world that has always hated him and judged him. He smiles with contentment as he writes his heart.
I never knew my writing hand could feel like this. So heavy, so lifeless… how it has seemed to have died. I don’t see beautiful word strings anymore in my mind. I simply see broken letters that wished to be a part of something larger. It is not inspiration or motivation that has fallen the will for me to write. I think only sadness can cause your mind to shut off and to just stop. How quiet the quiet is when the quiet has never been known. But I know it now. I know it better than the beating of my heart since I no longer feel that rhythm inside me. Instead a placid lake without thought has settled inside of my head and all I can do is reflect on the image of me that I see from it.
Remember that time I killed you? I got tired of you hanging around. You were always there, hovering… Always judging me it seemed. How dare you look down on me with your inflated sense of righteousness.
And then I got tired of the struggle. I released my anger with the opening of a Winchester Blade and slit your plastic existence till you gave a whiny scream. No one wept as I stowed you away for another day’s labor. No one will miss you now that you are out of sight.