Man Up and Cry Already!

Balancing traditional masculinity with mental health.

Trigger warning.

Part of me still cringes at posts like this. It goes against so much cultural stigma and childhood conditioning, ‘Stop crying and harden the f*ck up already son’.

The thing is, I have known far too many people who have ended their own lives, self-harmed or turned to drugs.

I’ve suffered in this way myself.

Yet, despite knowing how healing it is to talk and let go of pent-up emotions, particularly rage, embarrassment, confusion and self-worth issues, it is hard for me to do so.

I find part of me actively withdrawing to grit it out. To become a stone and ignore it, and to run from it– even when I’m alone.

Rather than facing it, I turn to drugs or other terrible coping mechanisms.

I struggle to acknowledge my own emotions — let alone cry — even when no one is looking.

I struggle to write down my true feelings — even when no one will see the words.

Men,
You are allowed to feel.
You are allowed to cry.
You are allowed to feel overwhelmed.

But what you’re not allowed to do is stop trying.

Struggle, but work through the struggle. Seek support and help. Follow the advice. Open up and ask the tough, embarrassing and confusing questions.

Despite what it may feel like at the time, breaking down and crying isn’t permeant. In fact it may only last a minute or so. Yet the catharsis could last for days.

It is hard to open up and be vulnerable enough to feel and cry. But it is harder still not to.

Besides, what is ‘weaker’: Facing your emotions and crying, or running from them and committing suicide?

Crass comparison for sure, but male suicide is an epidemic, taking more lives than most, if not all other causes.

So man the f*ck up and cry, before you do something that you cannot take back. Trust me when I say that opening up and sharing your rage is far better for your family than attending another funeral of a proud, yet deeply troubled, man.

P.S, whilst I don’t advocate vigilante justice, I hold little sympathy for the fates of those who attack the most vulnerable amongst us (check bottom left of picture).

Poetry kills inner demons.
 
It takes away their power. Removes their teeth. Loosens their grip. 
 
It turns them into mere words on a page. Something to be observed and remembered, but no longer feared.
 
What follows is an act of writing therapy. In moments of inner crisis, I put pencil to paper and let the words come. This process is not pleasant, but it is cathartic.

I share this with you in the hopes that we can both feel less alone in our suffering; and to show you that when you look at your demons, they lose all their power.

Read Words On A Page here.