Man up.

Masculinity has always been a term, label, being, etc. that I’ve had a challenging time living up to. If we’re to go by traditional definitions, masculinity is defined in western society as carrying characteristics, attributes or behaviors of being strong, courageous, exhibit leadership qualities, exude independence and being strong and assertive in our communications. So sure, on the outside, to most people it might seem that I check off the list of labels or terms that to our society deem socially appropriate for that role. But in reality, being a 6”4, lumberjack from the east coast, I’ve had the hardest time living up to what I observed from a young age.

Growing up in Bridgewater, NS I was lucky enough to be surrounded by love, friends, supportive teachers, and good friends who were there to support me when I needed them. I was privileged in being in a middle-class family, a male, food on the table, play a couple sports per year, etc. Being a larger lad with a neck in grade primary that looked like E.T. in the back row of class pictures, to hitting growth spurts much earlier than my classmates, I identified as a male with athletics and sports early on in school. I took golf lessons in the summer, swam at friends’ pools and at various lakes nearby, and had a few core friends that I hung out with throughout the years. While I wasn’t always the best, I would describe myself as athletic and competed well with my teammates in a variety of sports. I identified early on with the strength attribute of masculinity. During the first years of school I enjoyed a mixture of male leaders, teachers, and coaches that had their characteristics that served me in my education including good humor, communicated well, represented stability and good fathers to their kids or what I knew. I love my Dad who taught me some of the greatest lessons in my life. Accountability, responsibility, love, foundational living skills, and family. I associated many of the traditional attributes of masculinity of strength and leadership in a family to my grandfathers with carpenter aged and farm strength hands, fixing anything that came to their work bench, and consistently hearing either “Don’t worry my boy, that’ll put hair on your chest,” or “you’re a growing boy, second helpings are fine.” Meat and potatoes.

But my experiences with masculinity early on in my life, weren’t all great, and in fact most of those years for me in school were living hell. I was different. I was an extroverted introvert that enjoyed watching movies and playing video games during his summers. I grew faster, was always taller and thicker, and I didn’t always feel like I fit the mold. At an early age my feet grew every year to small sized canoes, shorts became smaller and shorter, uncomfortable seating, comparisons of relative weight to my much smaller and fit friends, and an early stage of wanting to be like someone else, not me. Academically, I did average with above average in English, science, and art courses. I really struggled with math and French at the same time. Throughout school I was always unsure and lacked confidence in my abilities as a student and athlete.

Over the years I became more and more uncomfortable in my own skin. Being ashamed of my larger body type. Puberty hitting other boys in ways that represented muscle development and becoming a “man.” Transitioning into pre-teen and teenager clothing that never fit quite right. Always trying to slip into the latest polo or graphic t-shirt, jeans that didn’t make you look like a refrigerator box and dabbling with conversing with young women. Bullying came on quick in grade’s five and six with consistent teasing, the introductions of belly slaps, dead arms, twisting nipples until they turned purple, whipping with towels, and ripping pants off boys in change rooms. Fat Fuck. Fat Ass. Faggot. Bitch. Pussy. Loser. It continued for many years of my life and ultimately stuck with me for my perception of what other males in my life viewed me as. Tests of toxic masculinity started early on in my life and carried on for years on end. 2 or so years of my life were dedicated to battling rumors in my class of me having sex with a dog. Songs. Laughing. Tormenting. This went on for two years. Being pushed to mental capacities of perceived hate and not being accepted for who I was. To one day where we were in French class, the final joke had been said. I crossed over to a side of rage. Dropped my books. Walked up to the jokester. Picked him up and pile drove his ass through a desk. I remember walking out of the class, headed to the cafeteria, and sat and ate the poor attempt at my early years of a tuna sandwich by myself. Bullying didn’t continue much longer. But I didn’t like myself any more for doing that. I didn’t like being aggressive, assertive, or representing what those who had been bullying me for years had done. But I had hit the breaking point mentally and cracked. It felt good in the moment, but ultimately there was still a deep-rooted question of and thought of “Am I/I am not enough.”

As the years progressed throughout high school and early on into university, the bullying decreased, and I started to associate being masculine with working out, going to the gym, minimal belly fat, big arms, big chest, the most weight lifted, drinking the most, partying the hardest, and an early introduction into supplements. Pre-workout, post workout, fat loss pills, weight gainer, bench press, dead lifts, grunting, chalked hands. Getting the ladies. Being a bro. Dressing in the latest trends. Buying drinks that were considered of being a man. Don’t show your emotions. I don’t want to talk about your emotions. Don’t bring them up. Drinking drinks at the bar without a straw. Staying around the bar area, and away from dancing. Going home with someone at the end of the night. Chugging the fastest. Holding my liquor. Doing shots. Being associated with the football, hockey, or basketball teams. Dieting. Go swimming to lose fat. Carb load. Just eat chicken and rice. Social media. How many likes? Oh, but man you can’t come close to my workouts. In a relationship. Single. Workout, Home, work 6-12. Don’t tell girls about your emotions, they don’t like that. Act tough. Be a man. Terrified of what showing emotion might do to me as a person. School work, presentations, group work. Anxiety induced panic. I was scared of what might happen to me as a man, if let’s say, I was vulnerable.

These ideas of being more or less masculine for me, continued at university and well into my masters, and so did the idea of being “smart” and successful which I gained no further confidence in with this negative inner dialogue taking place. After years and years of lacking self confidence in my own intellectual and physical capabilities, stature, level of fitness, and as a professional I was unhappy with myself and my perceived inability to exude masculinity to my peers. I was now an occupational therapist. 10-15 years of major depression, anxiety, and eventually two suicide attempts – masculinity and my lack of identifying with the traditional sense and expected behaviors of being a man, were one component of me wanting to end my life. I tried for years to meet the perceived expectations my environment and social influences around me, with all-inclusive lackluster results in the physical domains, and most definitely within the realm of truly being happy.

In 2018, after a few years of recovery and searching for a therapist that understood me and gave me space to speak freely, my therapist asked me to do an exercise focusing on conversing with my inner critical voice. Initially skeptical, I’m usually up for anything once, and I tried it. What I experienced that night was both an introduction to the side of me that was protecting me from my worst fears (acceptance, unconditional self-compassion, and failure) and a new path in my recovery to mental wellness. Later, in my therapy and up until now I was introduced to shame as the foundational core component of my long-standing depression, lack of self-confidence, and feeling of worth. I’ve conversed with my inner critical voice. And rather than letting it control me, now I try to speak with it regularly, but only when it’s present, asking myself why it’s there, and battling it with thoughts of gratitude and self-love, something that is still so hard for me to do, even after 2 years of the most difficult work of my life. I’ll talk more about this in the weeks to come, but I like Brené Brown’s definition the best in that shame is “the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging – something we’ve experienced, done, or failed to do makes us unworthy of connection.” For years I had thought that I was dealing simply with guilt of being the way I was, whereas I actually had something much deeper and instilled within my brain and my persona. My inner critical voice that is silent to many, and surround sound to me, every day asked me questions of “Why didn’t you? You should have. What is wrong with you? Why can’t you get it together?” I was really thankful for these insights because it opened a new path of recovery for me. Questions of why do I feel this way about myself? Why am I unhappy? Why do I not want to be here? Well they made more sense now and gave me some hope towards a future where I could be happy, and confident, and worthy. I had sat with my inner critical voice for years. And it controlled me. I did everything to drown it. Partying. Alcohol. Food. Drugs. Whatever it was, it was there to stay.

As boys and really until we’re in our mid-twenties as “men”, our brains are malleable sponges for all types of information. Visual. Auditory. Physical. We take in information from the environment around us, absorb knowledge (or lack thereof), and are young risk-taking beings in the world around us. We observe our teachers, coaches, mentors, role models, friends and leaders. We watch celebrities of all types, identify with various singers, artists, athletes, world leaders and begin to start to form who we want using bits and pieces from the world around us. As men, I think that much of what I talk about here, is encouraged for us to not talk about at all, and rather suppress for years on end until we either suffer for eternity or break.

And while other men likely have different backgrounds and experiences than I do, men in Canada alone are 3 times more likely to kill themselves as compared to women. Suicide is the second highest cause of death in youth, with boys aged 10-14 (41% of suicides) 15 -19 (70% of suicides) and men 20 – 29 (75% of suicides) and ranks third highest cause of death for men ages 30-44 – there’s likely something going on here. Depression will affect around 1 million men in Canada this year. If the message is to boys that in order to become men we need to be strong, and assertive, and successful and courageous, yet hide our emotions and eliminate opportunities to be vulnerable and be human. How does this affect us as a whole moving forward? If we’re not able to talk about what’s bothering us, how will the rates of suicide decrease? If we’re awarded with medals and accepted for athletic ability and achieving a degree, and good paying job to support our families, yet considered crazy or unstable if we have a mental break, try to force our feelings to our endless bottom via addiction, ignoring it, and playing a character – how do we move past this?

By no means am I saying that I do not believe physical fitness can be a massive part of promoting and maintaining positive mental health for men, nor do I think living up to masculinity is the only issue that young and older men face in today’s society that lead to depression, anxiety, and suicide. What I am saying is this:  

If you’re different (and this doesn’t just fit only males) if you don’t fit the bully, student athlete, jock, masculine, class clown, asshole prick role that you’ll encounter throughout school, sports, and the rest of your life – Good. We need more of you. We need people who become scientists, who can show compassion in customer service and leadership roles, we need researchers, we need people who think differently, we need experimenters. We need curiosity. Abstract. Asymmetrical. If our world is to survive, it’s because of people like you who do belong, and contribute to new medicine, to new discoveries of species and innovations of the world. We need teachers who can show compassion, empathy for those who are different and less fortunate. That is what creates a better future for us.

Instead of indirectly teaching importance of manning up to represent strength, assertiveness, and power, maybe we should strive to accept a man talking openly about their feelings as strength. We become assertive in speaking up for women’s rights, race and inequality among other injustices in the world. We become leaders that make the world a better place, rather than focusing on money as the sole end goal. Maybe we focus on being men that are courageous, finding the continuous invisible strength and courage it takes to face a silent battle of depression, anxiety, addiction, and other mental illnesses. It’s okay for us to start opening up more. And not just once a year. And by no means do I think that physical activity, looking and feeling and working out doesn’t play a role in living a healthy life, especially for mental well being, but this is different, and mental wellness deserves an equal if not greater share of the pie.

Male. Female. 28. 42. 18. 12. While we all might face different stressors, challenges, influences, bullies, experiences, etc. Those who live with or know someone who live(ed)s with depression, anxiety, know that the journey they face to rewiring their thoughts and accepting themselves for who they are, is a long and often times tiring road. But if I can say one thing and if you’re experiencing this now, not ready to accept it and going through dark times, please reach out and talk before it’s too late. Know that you do have people who care for you and that love you and that while this might very well be the hardest time in your life, life often times does shine light through the darkest of times. If you’re at your end – I understand. And I feel your pain. But you, my friend, have experienced a journey that I encourage you to tell, because it is unique, yet so many will relate to, and will help so many with healing from trauma and a life of self-critique. This work is hard. 2 years straight for me, and while I inch closer day by day, it’s still a long road ahead. It’s behind the scenes and grinding time to figure out yourself and what will work for you. Keep pushing and keep fighting.

You are worthy of love. You are worthy of happiness. You are worthy just the way you are.