The Burden of Being a Man: Unlearning the Silence Around Mental Health

Mental health has a paradox problem: We don’t talk about it until it becomes unhealthy and there are consequences as a result of it.

Mental health has a paradox problem: We don’t talk about it until it becomes unhealthy and there are consequences as a result of it. It is beyond clear that this needs to be solved, and while the solutions might be clear, what is not clear is how to effectively implement them. 

I will first start with a story. No, it’s actually a reality; a tragedy that illustrates the paradox. 

I woke up to a text message in October 2021 that my cousin, Tony, had taken his own life. As it was quite early in the morning I thought, and hoped, that I was dreaming. Or perhaps the right description, a nightmare. I put the phone down and didn’t pick it up again until about an hour later, hoping what I read had been just a nightmare. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Tragically, my cousin had indeed taken his own life and my world went dark. I had many questions without any answers. 

I had spoken to him the weekend before via text. I was trying to help him get an interview at a company I was previously employed at, as he had been job hunting for several months up to that point. 

I didn’t detect anything during our exchange that compelled me to take any actions that may have saved his life, but such is the nature of text messages. Much context and meaning can be lost, which is now a major reason why I prefer to have live conversations, especially when it’s a hard or sensitive topic. The nuance tends to live in live conversations. 

And in the aftermath of sinking into the reality that my cousin was no longer with us, my memory rewound to a few months earlier when I got a text from him asking to speak, which was rare. In fact, I can’t remember a time when he specifically asked me to have a call. We either texted or would just call each other. 

During this conversation, I could sense the distress, uncertainty, and angst in his voice. In short, he was lost and was seeking advice. The specific questions he asked were, “How do I find my purpose in life? How do I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing?”

I can’t recall what my response was, but I do remember the feelings it gave me: Shocked, stunned, and worried. Tony was one of the strongest people I knew and always seemed to be in control of his life and the things he was doing. He was one of those people others would come to for help and advice, and I don’t know if he ever turned down anyone, which is why everyone loved him. 

The lesson there: Sometimes (maybe oftentimes) the strongest people we know are also the ones that need help the most but are the quietest about it. 

Sometimes (maybe oftentimes) the strongest people we know are also the ones that need help the most but are the quietest about it. 

For months after getting the fateful text message and attending his funeral, the main question I kept asking was, “Why?” It’s a simple question with many uneasy answers. And I came to the conclusion that it matters most to me only in the context of trying to prevent this from happening to someone else. 

Tony left a note and there are probably only two to three people who know the full contents of that letter; I’m not one of those people. I’ll never know what the full letter read, but what I know of it was something to the effect of, “I can’t fight these demons anymore and no one can help me.”

As I reflected on his passing, trying to find meaning in it and pondering what I could extract from it to carry forward with me and share with the world, several themes or topics came to mind: The pressures of being a ‘man’ in many societies and how taboo (frowned upon) it is still to talk about your feelings, especially negative ones, and your struggles.

To an external observer, and clearly to those in his life, Tony would have seemed to ‘have it together’. It is now clear that was not the case. He had many responsibilities and people who depended on him, real or imagined. In many societies and cultures a man’s main responsibility is to provide; his value is derived from his ability to be a provider and take care of the people around him. The pressure can be daunting and relentless. It seems for Tony the pressure to be the provider everyone expected him to be became too much and he didn’t think anyone could help him relieve that burden, so he saw no other way out but the ultimate one. 

A reflection that ate away at me for a very long time was, why didn't Tony come to me to talk about it? The conclusion I came to is, it is the same reason why I didn’t talk about it for a very long time as well. It is not how we were raised and it’s not within our cultural norm. I’m Cambodian; Tony was half Cambodian and half Thai, both the children of refugees. We did not grow up talking about our feelings nor taught to express ourselves, especially about the negative emotions that, built up over time, typically lead to anxiety and depression. In a sense softly and silently killing ourselves, until it becomes too late and loud in the worst kind of way.

I have had to unlearn those cultural norms and what I learned from how I was raised. Going to therapy, learning how to have courageous (uncomfortable) conversations, and finding people within my life who are willing to take the time to have those delicate and hard conversations has helped me tremendously on my own healing journey. 

Learning how to have courageous conversations, and finding people within my life who are willing to take the time to have those delicate and hard conversations has helped me tremendously on my own healing journey. 

I’m not a therapist. Just someone who has battled through my own bouts of anxiety, darkness and heaviness and I share some pieces of advice that are meaningful for me and hopefully meaningful to those who read this:

• Just because you care doesn’t mean you have to carry it. You don’t have to carry the weight of expectations. You don’t have to carry the weight of others’ opinions or pieces of the past that you might be tied to. All of it can go. If it matters, move towards it and trust your ability to navigate. 

• Put on your own oxygen mask first. Take care of yourself first to give yourself the capacity to take care of others because the world needs you. And it needs the real you, with all of your flaws and blemishes. 

• Remember this always: People will be changed forever because you existed and because you chose to live your life fully and authentically.

• You’re not alone in this. Trust that people are here for you. Find the people who will be there for you. Next time someone tells you, let them know if they need anything, take them up on it.