As a child I was constantly being told by my parents and teachers that it was girly, sissy to cry. That it was girly, sissy to show that I was weak, both emotionally and physically. I was constantly being told that big boys don’t cry and that showing vulnerability was a weakness that other people would use to their advantage.
Being a young child, I soaked this up. I became hardened, I tried my best to show only strength and not weakness. I screamed inside, but never on the outside. I pushed down any emotion that did not comply with the conditioning that I had been taught.
Being the youngest of four, I was constantly being downtrodden, being told that I was not enough, but I wasn’t ‘allowed’ by society ‘rules’, to show my feelings.
As a result, anger was a frequent fall back point for me. Whenever something happened that caused me to feel fear or vulnerability, to feel sad and let out a cry, I’d get angry and lash out, mostly verbally but occasionally physically.
If it wasn’t anger that surfaced when people asked me ‘are you ok?’, I’d lie, saying that I’m fine even though inside I was screaming to let it out. Or I’d disappear into a private place and let the tears flow. Even then though, I’d be telling myself to ‘pull myself together’, that this behaviour wasn’t the behaviour of a man.
Much of my behaviour through my 20s and 30s was governed by this dogma. I’d have failed relationships because I showed little emotion. I had a career based on this notion of being a strong man. But it was all an illusion.
The illusion was shattered when my first daughter was born. She was born by caesarean but I was allowed in the room. I was the first to hold her. I cried with joy uncontrollably, even with all the doctors and nurses around me. No doubt they’d seen it a million times, but to me that was a first. An outburst of emotion of the good kind.
I enjoyed the feeling. The doctors and nurses ignored my wailing, they did not judge me and it felt good. For the first time in my life I could show that I was human.
Fast forward eight years and two more daughters later, much of my vulnerability had been shut away again, reverting back to the old habit. Then one day my marriage ended when my then wife decided to look for a better way of living, taking the children to live with her.
My world had come to an end, but I still wasn’t allowed (by society) to show my vulnerability. I was angry, scared, frustrated, fearful that I would lose my girls. But I wasn’t allowed to show it.
I was facing financial turmoil, and my thoughts were all of the negative kind. But I wasn’t allowed to show it.
It wasn’t until I found someone who was comfortable with me letting it all out that I was able to start the process of undoing the ‘damage’ done as a small child. Only when someone (who, by the way, was not a trained counsellor) I could trust, and who was willing to just let me be human — complete with all these pent-up emotions — was I able to begin the healing process.
It was around then that I realised the extent of the damage that society does on men. I realised that because ‘men’ are not allowed by society ‘rules’ to show emotions and vulnerability, that it’s no wonder that there is so much anger around. I realised that if men were given the space to show that they are human and that they are just as vulnerable to their emotions as women, this whole world could possibly be a better place.
In her TED talk, Brené Brown talks about “when we numb vulnerability we not only numb the bad emotions, we also numb the good emotions such as joy, happiness and gratitude”.
She says that there’s another way. She says that “when we let ourselves be seen, deeply seen, vulnerably seen, to love with our whole heart, even though there’s no guarantee, to practice gratitude and lean into joy, to feel this vulnerable means I’m alive”. She says “when we believe ‘I am enough’, we stop screaming and start listening, we are kinder and gentler to others and ourselves”.
And it is now my belief that when we show our vulnerability, whether a man or a woman, we attract the right kind of people into our lives. The kind of people who understand that showing vulnerability (as a man especially) is a major sign of courage, not a major sign of weakness.
For me, when I showed my vulnerably, my heart opened. I became more aware and, after over 50 years on this planet, I finally found a place of peace and contentment within myself.
