I’ve returned from my writing hiatus because of a topic that
I really think needs addressing. I’m talking about mental health, but in
particular men’s mental health. I know that younger men are terrible when it
comes to discussing our feelings. I think New Zealand’s ‘she’ll be right’
culture is to blame. We’ve grown up with staunch rugby players for role models
and media portrayals of gruff men who never discuss their feelings. I’ve often
joked that as a Kiwi male, we have two feelings – happy and sports. While that
may be painting with a bit too broad of a brush, there is definitely an element
of truth there. Take these stats for example: 50% of New Zealanders will
experience a mental health issue in their life and to extrapolate that further,
75% of suicides in New Zealand are men. Clearly there is an issue here and one
that we can’t keep ignoring. From a young age, we’re told that we have to be
tough and feeling down isn’t part of that even though I think it is
particularly prevalent in young adults.
In my experience, the idea of adult life seems to be one
thrust upon you. All of a sudden, you finish school and become an adult saddled
with all these responsibilities and no real clue if you’re doing everything
right. Personally, I still feel like I’m still 15, and every time I’m out and
someone says “watch out for that man”, I’ll look around behind me before
realising that they’re referring to me. At some stage you think it’s all
supposed to click and someone should hand you the “How to Be an Adult”
guidebook, so it’s jarring when you discover people twice your age are still trying
to figure it out for themselves, while simultaneously grappling with how to
effectively deal with their feelings. Then, you combine this with the role
social media plays. We live in a time of instant gratification and oversharing.
Every day through Instagram stories, tweets, and Facebook photos, you’re
inundated with the best parts of other people’s lives. This can leave us with
thoughts of inadequacies and unfair comparisons as you see the highlights of
everyone else’s lives, leaving you thinking that yours doesn’t stack up. These
are feelings that everyone has, but I think- as men- we are so prone to
bottling them up and acting like everything is fine, and therein lies the
problem.
I say all of this speaking from personal experience. Over
the last couple of years, I got myself into quite a funk. I was feeling
depressed and I wasn’t really sure how to get out of it. The only way that I
could describe it is like being in quicksand. Every day I would wake up feeling
like I was sinking. A feeling that would only increase throughout the day, as
if the more I struggled, the deeper it settled in. It would reach a screaming
crescendo at the end of the day until I went to sleep. I would then wake up and
do the whole thing over. I struggled to properly identify it at the time, but
in reality, I was going through a depressive episode. That’s not to say that I
was constantly unhappy, but there was a nagging pressure on me at all times.
With the value of hindsight, I can see that I was unwell, but at the time, I
couldn’t see it because I didn’t talk to anyone about it. Instead, I worked
more, took on too many commitments and just generally ran myself ragged as if I
could escape these feelings. I felt as if I was broken and lost. I constantly saw
all these people on social media living these supposedly great lives and felt like
mine was inadequate. This only exacerbated my inability to say how I was
feeling.
I am extremely lucky to say that I feel like I am coming out
of that episode of my life, and I can put it all down to talking about my
feelings. I felt like I was always someone who was prodigiously happy and that
I could be a rock for people, so in my people-pleasing ways, it was very
difficult to open up about not feeling good. I was worried that my friends
would suddenly stop liking me or think that I was too much work to be around.
Instead, I have been met with universal feelings of warmth, understanding and
admissions of feeling the same. I started off small, with the people closest to
me and when that felt good, I started taking it wider and wider. I’m not saying
that talking is the end to all mental health issues, but it felt so cathartic.
It taught me that while my friends can’t live in my head with me, they can help
me live outside of it. I felt as if I was unburdening myself and I felt so much
better in realising that everyone has shit going on and no one is living a
perfect life. I’ve learned that it’s totally fine to not be the ‘Happy Guy’ all
the time and it’s entirely unrealistic to expect yourself to only feel happy.
Drake’s song God’s Plan quotes the lyrics “I feel good, sometimes I don’t”. This
is a kind of mantra that I repeat to myself when I don’t feel great. If someone
like Drake can feel like this, then there’s no reason that I should be exempt. Overall,
I’ve had the best reactions from my male friends and that’s why I think this is
so significant. These are men that I thought I was close with before, but once
we’ve both been open and honest with each other, it feels like we’ve shifted
from drinking buddies to real friends. I found that we had been going through
the same things and had similar feelings. It really showed me that we need to
realise that we aren’t alone in these matters and that being vulnerable and truthful
about it is the best course of action, which is why I’m trying hard to open that
discourse with all of my friends. No one has to go through life by themselves
and asking for help is never a sign of weakness.
If you don’t feel like you can talk to people close to you
then I would suggest professional help as a good option. It’s something that I
have recently tried for myself and having someone completely unbiased who you can
tell anything to can be extremely helpful. Failing that I’m always available
for anyone who wants to talk. It can be over a beer, a run or anything that
makes you feel more comfortable. My late uncle, Greg, who we unfortunately lost
to mental illness, would say “it’s only a fuck up if you can’t fix it”. For a
long time, I felt like a fuck up and I really don’t want anyone else to feel
the same or like I could have done more for someone. I’m not claiming to have
all of the answers, but I’ll do anything that I can do to help. I’m not saying
that’s all you can talk about with me now. Please keep up the shit talking, it
is definitely one of my best skills in life, I’m just saying now and then if
you don’t feel great, let me or someone know about it. I’m also not saying that I’m miraculously
healed, I mean even the thought of posting this makes me worried about seeming
uncool, but if it reaches just one person and convinces them to talk about
their problems, then it’s all worth it. A great saying I heard recently is “if
you’re not doing well, ask someone how they’re doing” and that really solidified
this idea in my head that we all have a lot more in common than we think.
Everyone is out here trying to figure things out and do their best. We need to look
out for each other, and I’m hoping writing like this can be a small catalyst
for it.
Take care and remember that I’m always available.
