I got to be part of something real on Melanie's show recently, and it hit on a topic that's been heavy on my heart: why so many men stay silent when they're drowning.
Luke and I talked with Mel about this pattern we keep seeing. Guys will go through our programs, pay us money to support them, experience some of the hardest moments of their lives, and still won't reach out. They'll white-knuckle it alone, even when we're literally saying, "I'm here for you. Please call me." It's wild, and it comes down to a few things.
First, there's this Marlboro man bullshit we've all absorbed. The rugged cowboy myth that says real men don't need anyone. Then there's the basic fact that most men have never been given the tools to even name what's happening inside them. They can't talk about it because they don't know what "it" is. And third, men don't want to be a burden. They genuinely believe that if they share their pain, they'll ruin someone's day and lose the relationship.
What really got me in this conversation was when Luke shared about a guy who went through our entire Heart of Shadow program, had a massive breakthrough, and then didn't want to stay connected with the group because he didn't want to keep "burdening" the men with his pain. Even after a transformative experience, that old programming kicked back in. That default to isolate is so fucking strong.
The antidote, we talked about, is men's groups. Not as a replacement for therapy or coaching, but as cross-training. Those relationships are crucial, but they're not peer-based. They don't have the mutuality where sometimes the attention goes this way, sometimes that way. And so much of men's wounding comes from other boys and men when we were younger. The locker room shit, the betrayals, the attacks. A good men's group lets you rewrite that story. When you risk bringing your full truth and it gets held instead of weaponized, something in your body starts to rewire. We've seen men literally shake as that happens.
The other piece is this scarcity myth underneath it all. This background belief that there's not enough, so I better hold onto what's mine and figure it out alone. But the cowboy crossing the plains? He did that in community. The pilgrims crossing the ocean? Together. The myth that we did it all by ourselves is just that, a myth. And it's playing out in toxic ways in our culture right now.
If you're a man who's been holding shit alone, who thinks reaching out is weakness or burden, I want you to know: the opposite is true. When you share your pain in the right container, you're not burdening anyone. You're lighting the way for the next guy. You're giving other men permission to stop hiding. And you're stepping into the kind of belonging we're all actually hungry for.
If you want to explore what this kind of work looks like, check out what Luke and I are doing with Heart of Shadow or what Mel and I do in Pillars of Presence. These groups are designed to be that safe container where you can finally drop the armor and find out what's possible when you stop doing it all alone.
