Men's Mental Health: Making Space for a Different Kind of Strength

I have a husband and a son and as a therapist, I work with men of all ages and the more men I work with, the more I think about what we actually teach boys and men about being strong.

Because somewhere along the way, strength has become confused with silence. Being strong can mean getting on with it - Not complaining, not showing too much emotion. Being the one everyone else can rely on, keeping your problems to yourself and perhaps most importantly, not asking for help.

But what happens when "being strong" means you can't admit that you're struggling? What happens when you don't know how to say I'm frightened, I'm lonely, I'm overwhelmed or simply I don't know what to do? I think this is where men's mental health becomes so important.

When asking for help feels like weakness

One of the things I see again and again is men waiting until they are at breaking point before they ask for help. Sometimes they've spent years pushing things down, working harder, keeping busy, looking after everyone else.

Telling themselves they'll deal with it later, until eventually, later becomes now and by that point, the problem isn't necessarily that they don't want help - It's that they don't know how to ask for it.  Sometimes they don't even have the language for what they're feeling and I don't think we can blame men for that.

If you've spent your whole life being told, directly or indirectly, that emotions are weakness, that vulnerability isn't masculine, or that you should be able to sort yourself out, why would reaching out suddenly feel easy?

Toxic masculinity isn't the same as masculinity

I think this distinction really matters. I don't believe masculinity itself is the problem. There are so many wonderful qualities traditionally associated with masculinity that I would never want to take away from men. Strength, Courage, Protection, Loyalty, Responsibility, Determination, being dependable, providing for the people you love. These can all be incredibly positive qualities.

The problem comes when men are taught that they can only be these things in one particular way.

That strength means never admitting you're struggling.

That anger is the only acceptable difficult emotion.

That asking for help makes you weak.

That vulnerability is something to be ashamed of.

That you always have to be in control.

That you have to prove yourself.

That you can't cry.

That you can't say, "I'm not okay."

What positive masculinity looks like

For me, positive masculinity isn't about changing men into something they're not. It's about giving men permission to be the whole person they already are.

A man can be strong and vulnerable.

He can be protective and gentle.

He can be confident and still admit when he doesn't know something.

He can be a provider and still need support.

He can be a father who sets boundaries and a dad who tells his children he loves them.

He can be someone's rock and still need someone to be his.

He can cry.

He can ask for help.

He can talk.

And none of those things make him less of a man. In fact, I would argue that being able to sit with difficult emotions, communicate honestly and ask for help when you need it takes an enormous amount of strength.

My son and my husband

Having a son has made me think about this in a very different way. As parents, we spend so much time thinking about what we want our children to become. We want them to be kind, confident, resilient, independent and happy

But I also want my son to know that he doesn't have to earn love by being strong all the time. I want him to know that he can come home and say, "Mum, I'm struggling." I want him to know that asking for help doesn't make him a failure. That talking about something doesn't make it bigger.

And watching my husband as a father has reinforced that for me too. Because I don't think our sons only learn from what we tell them. They learn from what they see. They watch how the men around them deal with stress. How they respond to sadness. How they speak about themselves. How they treat their partners. How they apologise. How they ask for help. How they show love. Those things teach far more than any conversation about masculinity ever could.

And then there is the internet

Something else has been sitting with me lately. When men are lonely, angry, lost or struggling to understand themselves, they are looking for somewhere to put all of that. They want answers. They want belonging. They want to feel understood. And sometimes, instead of finding a safe place to explore those feelings, they find voices online that offer very simple explanations for very complicated problems.

Someone to blame.

Someone to tell them exactly how they should behave.

Someone to tell them what a "real man" is.

And certainty can be incredibly appealing when you're struggling. But I think what many men actually need is something much simpler.

A place where they can be heard.

A place where they don't have to perform.

A place where they don't have to prove anything.

A place where somebody is curious before they are certain.

A place where they can work out what is actually going on underneath the anger, the withdrawal, the drinking, the overworking, the anxiety or the constant need to keep everything together.

We need to make it easier for men to talk

I don't think the answer is telling men to simply "talk more." That's not enough. We need to create environments where talking feels safe. Where men aren't judged for what they say. Where vulnerability isn't immediately turned into weakness. Where difficult emotions can be explored without shame. And where men can learn that they don't have to wait until everything is falling apart before they deserve support.

What I want for the men in my life

As a wife and a mum, I want the men I love to know exactly the same thing. I want men to know that strength and vulnerability can exist together. That kindness isn't weakness. That asking for help isn't failure. That talking doesn't make you less masculine. And that you don't have to carry everything on your own. Because perhaps positive masculinity isn't about becoming less of a man. Perhaps it's about allowing men to become more fully themselves.

The strong parts.

The soft parts.

The confident parts.

The frightened parts.

The angry parts.

The loving parts.

All of it.

Let’s raise a generation of boys who know that being a man doesn't mean having to hide who they are.