As Men, We Need to Talk About Our Mental Health

When I write about my mental health, I feel weak. Knowing that I was going to write this article today, I was short-tempered and impatient with the kids. Little taps on my shoulder from my wife irritated me. And it was not for anything that they had done, but only because I’ve had this article in the back of my mind for weeks.

In November, men from all over the world join with the Movember organization to raise awareness. We grow our out our mustaches to support a bro, as the saying goes. For me, it’s writing the words that I know people will read. The words that aren’t funny and expose a part of me that I keep hidden. And even when I know that I’m not alone, it’s still hard.

But If I’m not willing to talk about my mental health openly, then what service am I doing to fathers that are suffering without a support system? I have a group of dads that have helped me raise my kids for the last 14 years. I have a wife I’ve been with since 1995 and knows every bit of my personality, the good and the bad. But what about the dads out there that are trying to be stoic? What good is my example if I can’t live the words I write?

Why are men reluctant to talk about their mental health?

This is something that we talked about on the podcast DadHouse. I’m a co-host and it was a really good chance to dig into men’s absolute revulsion on the topic. I think Larry, another host, nailed it. “It’s too personal,” he said. That simple statement hit home for me. Even for a guy like me, that writes every embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. However, my mental health feels too personal.

So many of us men grow up with heroes that look perfect on the screen or the baseball diamond. They smile and ride horses off into the sunset. Or hit a home run during the world series and the crowd goes wild. We see our heroes at their absolute best. And when we don’t see them at their best, we still believe we do.

I often wonder if my own father struggled. Everything in me tells me he did. He had multiple sclerosis since I was five. I saw him lose the ability to walk and by the time I was in middle school, he was in a wheelchair. But I also saw a smile on his face. Almost like life was on easy mode and he had no worries at all.

It wasn’t until later, after he passed, that my mom talked more openly about what he went through. About his fear of not being a good enough father or dying before my brother, sister, and I could take care of ourselves. She told me about his belief that he thought he would embarrass me if he came to one of my high school football games in his wheelchair. He “didn’t want to make a fuss” as he put it, even though what I wanted more than anything was to see him on the sidelines right behind me.

This man, that was as strong as God in my eyes, dealt with so much and I never saw him crack. Sometimes, I wish I had so I wouldn’t have hidden my own mental health so much over the years. The moments where the anxiety raises in my chest and needles shoot down my forearms.

What did I do? I would take it like a man. I would walk it off. I would be just like my dad. And although it is through his example that I try to parent, this is one of those times I have to break with him. I am more ashamed that it has taken me so long to get help. I like to think of all the things that I’ve accomplished, he would be most proud of that one.

How to start the conversation.

I asked Mark Hedstrom, Executive Director of the US Movember, what’s our first step as men and fathers when it comes to our mental health.

“We have to acknowledge that the role of the father is massively changing and it’s happening rapidly. The pandemic is exacerbating it,” Mr. Hedstrom said.

Every parent has felt their mental health slipping over the last two years. Homeschooling, work pressures, layoffs, fights over unemployment—the list could go on and on. This would affect any father, from the working dad to the stay-at-home dad.

“Social isolation has been really hard for men. So, we need to go to those connection points where men are going to shut down,” Mr. Hedstrom added. “It’s there that we begin to have these conversations of men’s mental health.”

Bars, sporting events, and in my case, playgroups. That’s what Mark is talking about. Getting to where men are comfortable and then having the conversations that matter. And not just normal conversations that “scratch the surface,” in Mark’s words.

He’s right. We are doing ourselves a disservice by not talking about our mental health. And I include myself in that group. The last time I wrote about my mental health was in my book a year ago. After I wrote it, I didn’t go back to it for three weeks. I was spent. Even though the book came out in October, I haven’t read that part again.

This time, writing about mental health is easier. Slightly, and I won’t take another three weeks off. But when I share the load of parenting with others, it does get easier. My mental health doesn’t seem so consuming, even on bad days like today.

“Vulnerability is ok. In that is actual strength. When you can do something better and differently. It’s not a weakness.” That’s Mark’s last piece of advice. For me, it helped me see myself differently.

Movember has a couple of different tools to help you begin to have that conversation. Because even though November is over, that doesn’t mean we stop the conversation. We don’t go stoic. Visit Movember.com and search for Movember Conversations. That’s how we go forward.

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