I’m writing this Monday evening, and I’ve been feeling raw today.  Not in a bad way, but in a “wow that was an amazing weekend”, that has left me fulfilled.

Specially Sunday, I spent some time with someone new.  We’ve been having some really deep conversations about gay men’s mental health (although the themes are not unique to the gay community), especially how we’ve both dealt with anxiety, baggage, emotions, the importance of expressing them and the divide between older men and us –  how that past generation on occasion dismisses mental health, how we realised that it needs to be dealt with, how we see and have experienced how it manifests and how we encourage that in others.

This is not an us against them post – there’s no value in that kind of division that you see in mainstream media all too often.  Instead, this is about our observations and experiences.

I really do believe men need positive reinforcement that it’s okay to feel and have emotions, and not just permission.

Times are changing. Many of us were never really taught how to sit with anxiety without calling it weakness. We weren’t shown how to talk about shame without deflecting it with humour, sex, anger, or achievement. A lot of us were handed a model that said: be strong, be desirable, be successful, don’t be complicated.

For gay men especially, there’s an added layer. We learned early how to code-switch, how to scan rooms, how to measure safety, how to make ourselves acceptable. That vigilance doesn’t just disappear because we come out. It buries itself in our nervous systems. It shows up as overthinking, perfectionism, sexual anxiety, as the need to be “at our best” all the time.

We talked about how some older folks were taught to push it down. “Don’t talk about it”, “Be grateful”, “Other people have it worse”, “Stop playing games”.

I don’t say that to criticize them — I say it because that was survival for them. Emotional restriction was a coping strategy in a generation that didn’t have language or containers for mental health.

I’ve lived and experienced some of those moments from older folks – men and women – whether directed at me or when talking about others “Turn off the water works”, “They’re playing games”, “Man up”, plus other statements.

In the discussion this weekend, we both feel we straddle something different. We got the emotional shutdown messaging, and then we also got access to therapy, self help culture, psychology books, online spaces, community dialogue, new research. We almost feel like a bridge generation that feels everything from both sides.

What struck me most on Sunday was this and I was re-reminded: when two men choose to speak plainly about anxiety, about fear of inadequacy, about breakdowns, about survival mode – there’s a real shift that happens and I find that candour really refreshing. There’s less performance, less bravado and more quiet honesty.

That is strength.

Positive reinforcement between men is radical. Saying:

• You handled that well
• That anxiety makes sense
• You don’t have to carry that alone
• You’re allowed to rest
• You’re worthy even when you’re not performing

This rewires things.

We cannot keep expecting men to magically be emotionally regulated while simultaneously shaming them for having emotions.

Yes, some men avoid this work, mocking it, hiding behind cynicism – dear $deity have I seen this in spades! That’s part of the story too. 

Growth isn’t universal or linear, and it’s not always tidy – I know this all too well.

Avoidance is often armour, cynicism is often protection, defensiveness is usually fear wearing a sharper jacket, projection is pain looking for somewhere else to land.

Regardless, every man is worthy and deserving of connection, love, and of a life that feels integrated and whole. Worthiness isn’t contingent on courage, curiosity, or timing.  Integration isn’t something you earn by getting it “right.” It’s something you grow into at your own pace.  No one is outside of that possibility.

Feeling deeply isn’t fragility – it’s integration, and integration is available to all of us, whenever we’re ready to turn toward it.

If we want healthier relationships, healthier sexuality, healthier leadership, healthier friendships — men have to do this work. Not perform it, not posture it, actually do it.

We have to look at our anxiety, our anger, our shutdown patterns, our shame around desire, our fear of aging, our fear of not being enough.

We have to stop pretending we’re above needing each other.

Sunday left me raw in the best way – connected, expanded.  It reminded me that vulnerability between men isn’t emasculating. It’s liberating.

If you’re a man reading this:
Your anxiety is not a character flaw.
Your past coping strategies were survival.
Your breakdowns don’t disqualify you.

And you don’t have to do this alone.

P.S: This entry has been at least 32 years in the making. I’ve been carrying these thoughts since first-year university. I’m grateful it’s finally out of my head — and that life has given me the experiences to understand what I was sensing and questioning back then.