Dark Nights of the Soul

In the crisp cold of a mid-fall night, a fire burns in the wood stove, making this small space feel safe, cozy even, as the outside chill is held back.

It feels like we’re keeping watch, on duty and alert for anything dangerous or out of order. All in the interest of preserving our sense of safety.

Tonight is quiet, as almost every night is, out here in the darkness on the edge of the woods. It’s so quiet, in fact, that along with the cozy warmth and light of the fire, it would seem easy to declare that “All Is Well!”

Except, all is not well.

Especially these last few weeks. Of course, one could argue whether things are all that different now, compared to any other time in the recent past. Perhaps not. But now is now, and I’m feeling things in a hard way.

There are the wars in the world; so polarized, with too much hate and death on any and all sides. There’s another mass shooting by another white gunman, this one just one state and about a hundred miles from us. And then the death of Matthew Perry, another celebrity who seemed to have it all, yet died prematurely, just 54, after a hard life of struggle and addiction.

I think these events are landing extra hard on me because of my focus on Men’s Work; I see how these events intersect. They feel so heavy in me, and they make me extraordinarily sad.

Everybody’s Hurting

The people I know and the guys I work with—we’re all hurting. The source of struggle and pain isn’t always the same, but every person I know has something. For some, it’s grief and loss. For others, it’s pressure of finances, career, or life in general. And for still others, it’s the insecurity of not feeling loved or accepted, of not feeling enough.

And we’ve been led to believe that our problems and challenges, our doubts and fears, and especially our failures and pain, are not natural and are, instead, an indication of our own deep and personal flaws.

Myth of The Strong Man

At the same time, we are taught from the time we are little boys that we should not show weakness. We are trained to keep watch over each other, and to punish any show of weakness with bullying, ridicule, and shame. Because we see this all around us, it seems normal—just the way things are. Boys will be boys.

We learn to hide our pain, troubles, and fears, because hiding them is safer than appearing weak. We learn that aggression—feelings like frustration, anger, and rage—are better tolerated and more expected and respected; and when we are angry, we’re often given a wide berth. Anger and aggression become our go-to responses, especially when we feel afraid and weak. They are the mask we wear when we feel at our weakest and most vulnerable.

The masculine stereotype we learn from popular culture has us believe that we need to be strong and intimidating, but also sexy and charismatic. We need to be tough and unemotional, yet tender. We need to be driven and focused on success, but also charming and a free spirit. We need to be a generous, giving partner, but remain detached and not weak.

Of course, it’s impossible to be all these things at the same time; but this is another space where we watch over each other and take one another down for not being enough.

Unhealthy Adaptations

What do we do when we’re feeling all this judgment and pain all the time? Feeling inadequate and less than? And worse, fearing that we’re going to be found out and our secrets exposed?

We’ve been shown that tough men manage and mask their troubles with alcohol, sex, and violence. These are the very behaviors we’re told make men tough, and they are the behaviors our role models use to cope with their feelings of pain, confusion, or discomfort.

In real life, these behaviors numb and distract us enough to only stop the pain temporarily. We may feel good, even like a hero, when we handle heartache by getting drunk and hooking up. We may respond to disappointment by getting angry, breaking stuff, and acting reckless. We might even manage our mild stress and anxiety by binge-watching Netflix or porn, or using substances or gambling to “take the edge off.”

But these adaptations won’t stop the pain permanently; they won’t fix things. In fact, the more we employ these adaptations, the more we need to use them to keep feeling less anxious and more normal. Rather than us controlling them, they begin to control us.

Also, even though these are seen as the behaviors of real men, there can be a good deal of shame associated with them when the behaviors take control.

Looking at all this, you have to wonder how this can possibly be the “Real Man Playbook” we continue to follow.

Unchecked and Out of Control

I don’t know you or what your story is. You’re reading this on your own, in your own world. But maybe you can identify with what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ve felt these kinds of struggles and pains, this kind of heaviness. Maybe you’ve turned to some of these coping adaptations. Maybe you even know what I mean about them taking control, and about the shame you feel.

This is where I want to bring you back to where I began: to the intersection of recent events. Because I see these events rooted in this familiarity of pain and struggles and what it means to be “man enough.” 

  • The pain and abuse we can inflict upon ourselves when we’re trying to hide from and outrun the demons we see chasing us. We may think we’re hiding our doubt, pain, and fears from the world; in reality, we’re pushing away anyone left who still cares, and we’re feeling ever more isolated and less loved. We see that even wild success and great wealth can’t ease or heal the pain of disconnection and shame.
  • We might turn our shame and suffering outward, blaming others for our broken hearts and broken dreams; for our inability to manage our own pain. We see how that blame can drive us to hate and hurt others. 
  • Or we see what can happen in a society led by men, where the collective consciousness follows the patriarchy playbook: you must fight and defend what’s yours; you can take what you want, when you’re strong enough; and real men never back down, never yield, never compromise.

The Real Truth

Of course, nobody would look at these paths and want to choose one of them. But can you avoid them and choose differently? Or, if you feel like you’ve already started on one of these paths, can you jump to a better path? Are there better paths?

Here is the good news. There are better paths. In fact, with the right strategy, you can find a path that suits you specifically, because you build it as you go. But it takes courage, it takes heart, and it takes love.

The reality is that we all have hard times and hard feelings, we all struggle and fail. What you need to learn is to accept these things. Or, better said, you need to unlearn the belief that these things are wrong and that they indicate there’s something wrong with you.

Feeling grief and sadness from loss, or struggling when you’re learning something new, or being uncomfortable in a new situation—these things are as natural as feeling hungry when you need to eat, or tired when you need to sleep.

We don’t shame ourselves and tell ourselves we should never feel hungry or tired. We simply take the cue and figure out what we need to do in response—eat or rest. 

When we’re sad, or upset, or afraid, or uncomfortable, these are simply cues pointing us in the direction we need to go.

What’s unnatural is believing that because we’re men, we shouldn’t get sad, emotional, or afraid; and that we shouldn’t use these cues to build connections and foster relationships through compassion, empathy, and forgiveness.

The Bottom Line

We are literally dying trying to live up to being “man enough.” I don’t want that for you, and I don’t want that for the world we all share. 

I see over and over again how powerfully things shift when you speak your truth to a person you trust, and you know will support you. It is priceless, the ability to talk through all the different knots and tangles of different stories and beliefs you’ve been given, and to get separation from the stories you’ve been telling yourself about who you are, and who you can’t be. 

The coaching relationship is a place where you take control back; you choose for yourself who you want to be and what matters to you. I provide a mirror and sounding board to help you stay focused and on track.

There is a different path you can take. It’s a path taking you up. Let’s get started!