Imagine you’re Theresa May surrounded by the
Conservative front bench twits. While they’re having pyjama fights in whatever
private school dorm they went to you alone must save the country from Brexit
mayhem. That on a domestic level is the Mental Load. You alone ‘see’ the
thousand things that have, might, are or will go wrong if your grasp falters
even for a moment. I have witnessed women complaining yet proudly vying for who
has the heaviest, usually in the form of my husband is more incompetent, less
aware or less communicative than your husband. It’s the same old sporting
territory as mother-in-law jokes. But there’s this new phrase, ‘Mental Load’
that vindicates it like a diagnosis, “You’re fine, you’ve just got autism.”
Well it’s not fine; it’s the highest form of arrogance, a throw back to the
days when your six-month-old would die without your constant intervention. It’s
become a way of life, of capturing power and holding the rest of the family in
almost perpetual infancy, a phoney way of bolstering one’s own self-worth,
which one has neglected due to the constant task of shouldering the
afore-mentioned mental load. Yes you have to make all the decisions but only
because you’re so busy deciding what everyone should do next. Once you realise
this mental load is inappropriate for anyone past their third birthday you can
begin to make adjustments. Begin by giving away the responsibility for Sunday
lunch to your partner or oldest child. This is not a following orders exercise
it’s a glass of wine whilst reading the Sunday glossies exercise. If they ask
for help fine but otherwise content yourself preparing for rubber chicken,
lumpy mash and degraded sprouts. Remember this is your learning exercise and
people may have different ways of doing things that may even on occasion be
successful. Your quantity surveyor hubby may make a copious timings list or
your brain surgeon eldest consider the coefficient of heat penetration for
various animal and vegetable varieties. In a short time they will prove easily
capable of laundry, dressing, bed making, even cooking and cleaning while
you’re well on the way of becoming an alcoholic. And if they do fall short of
your exacting standards don’t chastise them, that’s just a cheap ego boost.
Smile and suggest it just proves they need a little more practice. With a
little practice on your part you will happily relinquish the title of ‘Queen of
Fucking Everything’ and become a simple gay princess amongst equals and the
equals will be happier too.
