Peace and I'm Out

Keep on dadding, even when it's hard as fuck.

“I just don’t feel up to it anymore.”

“What, being a dad?”

I’m wasn’t sure in the moment if my wife was being serious or just trying to get a laugh but, on a recent car ride, this was her response to me explaining how I was planning to stop writing this newsletter.

But that’s really all there is behind it. Because, what once was something that came easily and rapidly every Monday morning, no matter what, has become something that feels more of a chore than an adventure. And I just don’t feel up to it anymore.

It’s not that I’m writing too much, because I can’t really do that. For someone who writes somewhere in the ballpark of 300,000 words a year, most of which is paid and published, some of which is not, quantity and workload are never an issue. Writing is how I’ve always made sense of the world. For me, it’s like going to the faucet and pouring water into a cup; a simple act that doesn’t require much work, yet one that keeps me alive. Writing is something that I do for money but something that I do for nothing at all. And I’m super fortunate to be one of the people in the world who has figured out how to make a living doing something I love, something that I’d be doing even if I wasn’t getting paid to do it. Which probably means I’ll no doubt keep writing about my kids and about fatherhood in some fashion. Just not (almost) every week. And probably not so publicly.

So why don’t I feel up to it anymore?

To be honest, I don’t know. I’m not sure why. When I really dig in to my emotions and to the ho-hum everyday of fatherhood, my relationship with and to my kids, and my job as a dad still provide me with plenty of shit to write about.

I started this newsletter a few years ago as a place to not only write and record some of my thoughts about fatherhood but to help normalize and foster honest and earnest conversations about and around being a dad. Because, for some stupid fucking reason, we men are too often culturally unallowed to talk about our challenges, about our fears, about our wins and our losses. We can’t talk about our feelings. And this newsletter was my way of combatting that silly, silly blockade.

And over 160+ essays, 20-something interviews with other dads I know, appreciate, and/or admire from afar, thousands of email responses, notes, comments from and correspondence with readers, I’ve tried my best to do that. And throughout the journey, I learned so much about myself as a man, a husband, and, most importantly, a father.

But now that writing this newsletter seems more like a chore than it does something I get to do, it seems like as good a time as any to bid it farewell. At least loosely.

Which is why you shouldn’t go clicking that unsubscribe button.

Why not?

Because sometimes I might want to put something out there, to reconnect on occasion. Might be once a year. Might be once a month. It might be never again and, if that’s the case, you’ll never hear from me otherwise, so why not stay on the list?

(However, if you are a paying subscriber, you should go ahead and cancel that, as I don’t want you to keep paying for nothing.)

So, to you, my dear readers, I say thanks for coming along on the ride. Thanks for taking the time to read, to comment, to drop me your notes, your thoughts, and your feelings, whether publicly or privately. Thanks for making me and tons of other dads feel a little less alone in our journey.

Being a dad is hard as fuck but it’s the greatest thing any of us will ever do.

With love, your friend,

VM