Depression is a hard topic for anyone to talk about, but Christopher Green finds it especially difficult among men.
I have a confession to make. I’ve been suffering from depression. At first I didn’t want to admit it, but after many years I have to accept this truth. I’ve withdrawn from all of my friends, my social support and have adopted a lifestyle of a “functioning hermit”. I, a “people person” have become somewhat awkward around people.
I’ve been seeking therapy in an effort to confront this invisible burden. It takes a lot for me to admit this. As a matter of fact, the reason depression has sunken its claws so deep into my soul is because I hadn’t come-to-grips with it sooner.
I often ask myself why I was in denial for so many years and none of the answers come easy or swiftly. I’ve always been a proud man, as I was taught. I was told that men cry hard, but we don’t’ cry long. For the most part I believe that to be true. But what I wasn’t told was that when men do cry, it’s often alone. It’s alone in a solitary, dark place where no one can question his manhood. Crying for men is misrepresented as something of a momentary lapse in manliness. Society has told us that real men don’t cry.
Our culture has indoctrinated us to believe that depression in men is a sign of weakness. “Men don’t get depressed, they just get weak!” I grew up in an extremely religious environment where we blamed things like this on the Devil. Of course, the facts would disprove that notion. We’re told that if a man feels uncontrollable emotions to the point of tears then you’re not a real man. Lies! I’m not talking about some people who are perpetual criers. I’m talking about the regular dudes and stalwarts of manliness.
Our culture has indoctrinated us to believe that depression in men is a sign of weakness. “Men don’t get depressed, they just get weak!”
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My father is a prime example. My Grandmother, his mother, died many years ago and I never saw him shed one tear. As a matter of fact, the only major emotion I’ve even seen my dad express was anger, “church” as we call it, but rarely happiness. If no one had ever told me that only weak men suffer from depression, I would have come to that conclusion anyway.
I was schooled in the art of how to hide my emotions and by hide my emotions, I mean suppress them. I have an expression, “You can only stretch a rubber band so far before it snaps.” And I’m finally admitting that I began snapping a long time ago.
On the outside I snap to the point of anger with a powerful display of manly posturing. But when I’m alone, I snap to the point of tears. Every assault from close range hurts. It enrages me. (By close range, I mean from within my circle of influence.) I was always even-keeled and slow to anger. I even forgave a guy for trying to kill me. True story! But now I’m like a man soaked in gasoline and everything in life is a match. So I avoid everything and everyone possible.
I don’t recall when my resolve began to wither away, but now the cartilage of my soul has eroded and I’m working with “bone-on-bone”. Everything is a struggle. Getting out of bed, playing with my kids, going to work, and making sweet-sweet love to my wife is painful. Even typing this article hurts. Everything hurts. Going through my days feels like trekking through quicksand in concrete shoes, with porcupines stuffed in my drawers.
But hey! I’m a man and I’ve got to “suck it up”! Wrong! I’ve come to understand a lot about weakness. Because no matter how we try and “Politically Correcticise” it, depression is a weakness. Not a weakness in a shaming way, but a weakness in that depression takes us away from our strengths. Even now I’m not perfectly certain of how to combat this new roommate of mine, so I’ve decided to do something else men have learned to not do…talk about it.
Exposure is the only way to rid ourselves of things that fester in the dark. But with whom do I tackle this subtle assailant? Who can I speak with that won’t judge me? Who will not look upon me as weak? Who will see me struggle and genuinely see that there’s a problem and not attribute my erratic actions to being a jerk? I don’t know. I suppose that’s why we pay therapists good money-to not judge us. But I’m finding that dealing with my depression isn’t only in the hands of therapy, it’s also in the hands of the people who love us.
I’ve decided to do something else men have learned to not do…talk about it. But with whom do I tackle this subtle assailant? Who can I speak with that won’t judge me? Who will not look upon me as weak?
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The thing that hurts the most is when we can’t go to those closest to us and confide our real problems. It’s a shame when our loved ones know something isn’t right, yet they do nothing close making it better. Heck, the least they could do is not make it worse. For this reason we turn to many harmful and unfruitful things to medicate our pain. We begin to feel pointless. And when we feel pointless, we do pointless things. Rarely do I find myself engaging in activities that will actually enrich me. Instead, I’m going about the business of life and hiding the pain.
I’ve become a master of looking occupied while not being occupied at all. I do this because this is what I’ve been taught. This is what I’ve learned. I have learned that no one wants to hear my problems. It’s been said that when someone greets me with a “How ya doin'”, they really don’t want to know…because they don’t. “You’ll be alright.” is what I get a lot. And as men, we accept this, while all the while we’re dying inside.
We’re weakening at every stop and starting again feels like too much effort. There have been many times when I’ve contemplated suicide because I couldn’t bear to face the rash of potential conflict and disappointment that they days may bring.
I feel like I’ve lost control. I ask myself, “If can’t control any variable of my life, then what’s the use of going on living?” If you’re suffering from depression I’m sure you’ve asked yourself the same question. Loss of control and input into what affects me has led me to feel powerless. And when the power goes out, the lights go out.
Yet, through it all, the thing that keeps me going is realizing that these are all just feelings brought on by the many things that cause depression.
I’m learning to distinguish the real from the hyper-emotional. Emotions lie, and for that reason I’ve learned not to always trust mine. I’ve found myself becoming a man of sound reason and practical action. That’s not all bad. But to be emotionless in situations that require emotions, to be stoic when laughter is appropriate, to be a rage monster when only a simple discussion will do is wrong!
Fellas, confront your emotions. They aren’t going away. There is no shame in taking about it. It’s not weakness to express your feelings. It’s quite the opposite. In a world where expressing our emotions is seen as weakness, it takes a tremendous amount of strength to confess that you’ve lost control. I’m saying this to you, but I’m saying it to myself first.
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Alas, minor therapy and research has taught me that I need balance. I need to find a way to express my emotions no matter the judgments. I need to find a way to keep those emotions in check so there is minimal backlash. I must find a way to release the tension without saying a word. Funny thing about words; after a while they become counter-productive. And I love words! Yet, I don’t need more words. I need a plan of action.
This morning, I scolded my son unfairly for something. I woke up mad at the world and hating myself for apparently no reason. After I apologized to my eight-year-old spawn, I had a talk with him.
I told him that he has to take care of his little brother and sister if I’m not around. As my eyes began to swell with tears, I told him that he has to be strong, but don’t be afraid to cry because crying releases his anger. At this point, I’m in full-on Niagara Falls mode. I said that, at times, people don’t understand your pain and thus, make no effort to help you deal with it.
I explained that whenever he doesn’t understand how he feels, he should talk to someone about it. If I’m around, I told him to talk to me. I told him that I loved him and wasn’t really even sure why I was telling him these things. As his eyes began to puff and fill, he nodded and told me he understood. More was said. It was a good talk.
The truth is that I don’t know how long I’ll be around. I have Sarcoidosis, an auto-immune disorder. I’ve had it for years. I’m fine now, but odds are that as I get older, it’ll get worse and I’ll be either severely incapacitated or dead. But not just that, sometimes I don’t know if I can wait. There are times when I’m overcome with irrational emotions for a variety of reasons and am not certain if I can make it through another day.
Fellas, confront your emotions, they aren’t going away. No, sir! In fact, they’ll just fester like gonorrhea in the deep, dank recesses of your soul only to rear its stinky, puss filled head in a moment when you should be enjoying life. Do something about it! Go to the gym. Run. Build a shed. Do something! There is no shame in seeking help. There is no shame in taking about it. It’s not weakness to express your feelings. It’s quite the opposite. In a world where expressing our emotions is seen as weakness, it takes a tremendous amount of strength to confess that you’ve lost control. I’m saying this to you, but I’m saying it to myself first.
Suicide accounts for l in 100 deaths. The majority of those who die in this way are men.
When you don’t want to die, but you don’t want to live: That’s Depression. I want you to live!
Photo: Rennett Stowe/flickr
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Christopher, Thank you for being so open and honest about your feelings. There’s nothing to to be ashamed of with your depression. More than likely, depression is a “part” that is protecting the younger “parts” of you that experienced hurts from your caregivers, teachers and peers. Depression is more than likely the way your psyche is telling you to please do something about the “parts” of you that are stuck in the past frozen with false beliefs about who you are when you had negative experiences. Negative experiences has young parts of you take on shame, rejection, humiliation, etc. Sounds… Read more »
Thanks, Stew. Please, can I call you Stewie just one time. Please! After many years, I finally just (and I mean I just) had a talk with my wife about this issue. It encompassed all the things you’d expect. I feel better knowing that the one, with whom I promised, “For better or for worse” with knows. I feel that there is nothing that sane, good people, with good intentions can’t accomplish. I believe that there is nothing we can’t solve together if first, we are willing to broach the topic and then do something about it. There needs to… Read more »
Thanks for writing this. I could have written almost every word of it — if I had the energy or motivation. Like you, I’m trying, making an effort to cope, persevere, etc. Reading this reminds me I’m not insane and that I’m not the only person who feels like this. I’m going to turn the computer off and go outside. Do something, like you suggest.