I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth. Whether I shall ever be better I can not tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible; I must die or be better, it appears to me.
Abraham Lincoln written in a letter to a friend – 1841
Two men I knew from high school are gone in less than a year. Neither of them needed to be. And I find myself wondering if they, like Lincoln, were in that place where they felt they must “die or be better”. I am deeply saddened for these men, and I also grieve for the loved ones that they left behind – especially the children and the wives that must find a way to carry on with the devastating pain and burden that suicide leaves in its wake.
I don’t know the specifics of the decisions and feelings during those final days and hours that lead to either tragedy. And even if I did, I doubt that it would provide an adequate answer to the question of why they chose to end their lives. There just doesn’t seem to be a logical, rational answer to the why question when it comes to suicide. Pain is the only explanation I can think of that might even come close. Intense pain with no outlets and no seeming end in sight.
I had been out of close contact with both friends for some time. We were “Facebook friends,” and I enjoyed occasionally reading their short quips about sports, or work, or the joys of a long weekend with the family to some sunny place, but we had not sat down and had a real conversation about real issues and real feelings in a long, long while. In truth we may never have had those conversations even in our closest times back in school. It’s more likely that we found other, less “important” things to talk about than life’s irritations and trials that were slowly building up inside. We probably kept it light and casual. We men learn to do that at a fairly young age.
So it is not unusual or unexpected for us – for us men – that even when we are given a chance to sit, and talk, and get real about things that may be going on inside, eating us up from the inside out, slowly bringing us closer and closer to a dark void – to the awful abyss, we don’t dare talk about it. We won’t tell a soul. We often think we are not supposed to, or not allowed to. We’ve been told and shown in a million ways and for a long time by countless people that talking about these things is not part of being a real man. It is in direct contrast to society’s definitions and examples of manhood.
If my friends had talked more – really talked – about the burdens and the sadness and the darkness they were carrying, they may not have made such a permanent decision to their temporary problems. I don’t know this for sure, but I have learned about the temporary nature of seemingly endless problems and pain, and about the power of the spoken word to help alleviate these burdens. I’m certainly not writing these words to judge or to condemn them. I need to write about this, even though I’d much rather not and I find my words weak, dreadfully insufficient, and far too late to help these men. These good men. I’m doing this because I can identify to some degree that place these men must have been sitting in. I have visited the darkness before, and I found reaching out to others nearly impossible in those times. I have also seen too many other men – other good men – strong men – smart men holding in similar pain and sinking into dark lonely voids of their own.
Something needs to change. Men need permission to learn the skills required to talk to other men and to ask for help before it is so desperately needed. The concept of “being a man” must be examined, questioned, and overhauled. My experience has been that only one feeling is truly acceptable for “real men,” and that feeling is the most destructive one for mankind: anger. Anger for men often starts off feeling safe because it is generally allowed, if not whole heartedly promoted by our culture, and we men can feel very manly and powerful walking around angry most of the time. Because anger will do two things for awhile: it will keep people away, and sometimes it will get you what you want. It becomes a dangerous habit, though, as well as a grossly ineffective tool for real inner growth, communication skills, or personal change of any kind. My anger told me that I didn’t need to change at all – everyone else did. When I was busy griping, and complaining, and raging about how stupid and useless and weak everyone and everything else was, there was no possible way to see my part in any of it, or how I might change my reactions to situations to find some of peace of mind. My anger did not allow for that. Instead it built thick walls around me, like all addictions and unhealthy behaviors do.
I was 26 years into this life before another man told me that most, if not all, of my anger was the result of the enormous amount of fear I had been silently denying, and stuffing, and keeping to myself. But fear was not allowed for men. So I stayed angry instead. A few years later I heard from another man that clinical depression among men is often defined as anger turned inwards. These words again struck a chord with me. I thought depressed people stayed in bed all day and cried often. I did not know then that a majority of males suffering from Depression turn to addictive substances and behaviors, and that they report constant feelings of irritation, agitation, and rage. They are also more likely than females to complete acts of suicide. Anger turned inward. No outlets. Intense pain. Gut it out. Be a man.
I had a professor in college who told us a story about John Wayne going to visit a group of wounded soldiers in a hospital during the Vietnam War. According to my professor, “The Duke” was booed out of the building. Cups, plates and bedpans were thrown at him as he retreated, wearing his full Hollywood cowboy regalia. I have never researched the story to find out if it is true, but I hope that it is. My professor claimed to be one of the men in the beds, and the reason for the soldiers’ anger was simple: Wayne made his living portraying a stereo typed and useless image of manhood that these brave men in the hospital did not want to see, or hear, or be exposed to at that moment. They were suffering and in pain. Real pain. They had seen, and felt, and experienced too much real horror – with real bullets and real death in a real war to deal with John Wayne’s play acting at that time.
Abraham Lincoln knew what it was to fulfill the roles of manhood during his lifetime. His actions defined and saved our nation as we know it today. He was also martyred for his efforts. Often described as “incredibly sad”, and “melancholy,” Lincoln’s life long battle with Depression is now well documented. His words from the letter above describe the depths of these dark feelings that he was prone to. But even more, they show a man who was courageous enough to reach out and express his feelings and to ask for help from others in his times of need and pain.
I know a bit about Depression, and suicide, and the things that we men need help talking about more often, but I am including some links that will do a far better job on these topics than I can. My hope is that you will check these links out and pass this information on to the “real men” and in your life. They may not ever say so, but I’ll bet that they will appreciate the concern and love you show by offering to help and to be there when a man is down…
http://www.livestrong.com/article/84446-depression-checklist/
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/male-depression/MC00041
Good job…..
Powerful thoughts, Bryan.
We’re all puppets in a play to some extent. It takes courage to step out of the stereotyped “real man” role and seek help.
Tim’s brother said it so eloquently during the funeral, and I wish I could remember his exact words…but its meaning was that we are stronger when we carry burdens together, rather than alone. It seems most adults, and men in particular, are expected to deal with what ails them alone, without burdening others. It is often seen as a sign of strength when someone “toughs it out” alone, makes it through a tragedy without asking for help from others. We (as a society) need to stress the importance of reaching out when help is needed, and to eradicate the stigma that surrounds depression. As I’ve explained to my children, sometimes people have illnesses/injuries we can see; other times their illness is not noticeable because it is inside where we can not see. Regardless of where it is – on the outside as a broken limb or on the inside in the form of depression – we must show compassion and not pass judgement.
As with most things, education is so important. We need to help our children develop communication skills and the understanding that sharing their burdens in a healthy way will ease life’s challenges. There is never shame in asking for help. Thank you for reminding everyone of that!
XO,
Michelle
Thanks Hector – when are we going to talk, by the way?
Langdon – It might be time to cut those puppet strings! Redefining courage as a man is so hard sometimes but definitely liberating in the end!
Thanks for your post, Michelle. You make some great points. I’m glad you are letting your boys know what a “real man” is – and isn’t!
Having the courage to feel big is not gender specific, it is human specfic.
Bob – thanks for being a good role model of true manhood – and true humanity!
Oh my Brian,
Thank you for publishing words I continue to offer to my male clients on a regular basis. I am too enraged for the message society has burdened men with for all time. I consider it a miracle in my office, when a male client can finally step from behind this cloak of anger and sheer madness for even a few safe minutes to FEEL and express himself- Keep writing- Your words bring safety and options to a sometimes clueless world.
Noreen – I have spoken to some of those clients after you have helped them get to that point of safety – my hat is off to you for the great work you do for helping men question their long held beliefs!
These words need to be heard by men. Also women can have depression even if they have a nice house, a handsome husband and cute kids. They do not have to be a size 6 and make homemake ccokies, plus volunteer for a local charity. It is more acceptable for women to seek help. However being the superwoman is a myth. Find a person who really hears you, and know “the darkness” is not a forever place. Life truly is worth living. I pray for all those poor souls in thee really dark places. Hang on. There is a way out.
Mom – Good points about the superwoman myth and unrealistic expectations. Someone should blog more about the female angle – hint, hint…