Category: Healing

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 22) The absence of life guidance

    I have just read two books over the Christmas holidays, as I travelled to San Diego to spend my first Christmas with my partner, and now fiancé, Christelle. I knew I would have time on the journeys to read, and maybe time during, also one of the things that Christelle and I do a lot of is read to each other. The books were ‘The Seat of the Soul’ by Gary Zukav, and ‘The Choice’ by Edith Eger, and today I have just finished the second the two. Both books have been incredible in very different ways. But its Edith Egers that I have underlined more furiously, and brought so many aspects of my own journey to there surface.

    In ‘The Choice’ Edith describes her experiences growing up in Hungary/Czechoslavakia, being sent to Auschwitz in 1938, dancing for the Dr of Death, surviving, when 1m others didnt, being taken to camp, work house, woods, being starved, punished and separated from her family, some of which she had no knowledge of whether they were alive.

    In the second half of the book she describes her marriage, her children and then her journey into becoming a therapist, and then going back to the places, Germany and Poland, where she experienced her traumas. She intertwines beautifully how her patients in therapy brought her to her own self reflection of her past, present and future, and how, ultimately, we all have a choice.

    I will more than likely write about a number of aspects from the book, there are so many. The first is what struck me, about the things that gave her hope during the years in Auschwitz; three things emerge from her story; One is the love of her life – Eric, who she was separated from, the other was her Sister – who she was with for much of these years – and the third thing were the words of her mother – and the dream that one day she would see her mother again.

    ‘I hear my mothers words come back to me, as though she is there in there barren room, whispering through the music..‘just remember, no one can take away from you what you have put in your own mind’

    Later Edith reverses something her mother had said to her (Im glad you have brains, because you have no looks) in Auschwitz, for survival, she translated this as ‘I’ve got brains, I’m smart, I can figure this out’

    One of the questions my therapist asked me in a very first session with her over a year ago was ; ‘What were some of the life lessons you received from your parents?’

    Nothing.

    But that wasn’t exactly true. There were rules… but not life lessons

    Whats fascinating is that the very people who want to control you, dehumanise you, abuse you and neglect you, are the very people who give you no advice for how to overcome them. That makes sense, doesnt it.

    So, had I been sent to the plains of the Gulf in 1990, or Kosovo in 1997, or a Nuclear bomb landed on Market Harborough in 1991 and I was having to survive that situation, there would have been no life advice, at all. I would have been armed with such wise sayings like

    ‘Dont you dare upset me again‘ or

    I need you to make me proud

    Dont you be so smart’

    You’re asking too much, dont be spoiled’

    I needed to get that temper out of you’

    Dont be so ungrateful’

    These would have been pretty useless in terms of what I needed to survive, should I have been put in a place to have to.

    Thats the thing, they dont give you guidance for life – just rules, or invisible rules, of obedience in their created world. Its like any of the ‘gifts’ they give – they are loaded with hidden meaning, and rarely meant for your actual good.

    Unlike Edith, I had to rely on an inner voice despite the emotional contagion of the parent who’s world everything had to revolve around. How do you trust an inner voice that is so disabled and frightened?

    I also realise, that from a very early age, probably 9-10 that I had to rely on myself, to survive – developing my own inner voice that was all about survival. Not unlike Edith, but my escape date was when I was 18, and I was counting down the days from about the age of 12. Edith had no idea when hers was.

    My personal prison, was the family home – with the emotionally abusive monster within. I don’t compare my situation to Ediths in terms of severity in any way, but it brought to my attention the lack of guidance or wisdom passed on to me by my parents, ever. I also note how desperate Edith was to see her parents again, to have them alive, to go back to a time when this was the case. I watched as other children ran to hug their mum at school and nursery. I had to be dragged away from school, and the one who wanted to be last to leave every day.

    So I developed an inner voice- a survival voice one day this will be over, ill survive, I always do, and needed voices of support from outside the situation. Some from books, some from teachers, some from youth workers and church.

    But its strange that reading a book about a Holocaust survivor brings me closer to aspects of my own past. Closer to aspects that were different for me, closer to aspects that reveal what I did or didn’t have. What if its not your care-giver that gives you couple through the trauma – but the one who creates the trauma? What if thats what I have to heal from?

  • Feeling the soul

    I can’t be understood

    I can’t be thought

    I can’t be bought

    I just am

    I am only felt

    I am only listened to

    Soul

    Heart

    Soul feeling

    Voice between the thoughts

    Inner life

    The dark night

    The prompting voice

    Wants space

    But doesn’t demand it

    Waits

    Soul feeling

    Feel the breath

    Feel your soul

    Feed it silence

    Nourish with space

    Love the soul

    See it, give it, let it

    Be felt

    Be transformed

    Through the feelings of your soul

    Feel it

    Feel life

  • Holding the weight, when the other doesn’t

    I was wondering, what are the things we do, when in the midst of abusive relationships, before we realise that it wasn’t actually us?

    Therapy is one of them

    This reminded me of more….in an abusive relationship, of some of the strong imbalances..

    You do the work – for those that wont

    You do the thinking – for the one that wont

    You show up – for the one that hides

    You take the blame – for the one that gives it

    You have principles, of truth – for the one who is just out to win

    You do the time – for the one who wants easy

    You solve and fix – the damage they create

    You take on their issues – for the one who demands it

    You take on responsibility – for the one who avoids it

    You invest in the relationship – for the one who expects it

    You respond to their emotions – for the one who projects them

    You keep the peace – for the drama that spews from them

    You stay the quiet one – for the one who can’t see themselves, making the noise

    You remember things – for the one who’s amnesia is selective

    You start….eventually… too see….

    Yourself, in a way they cannot see.

    and

    Them, in a way they cannot see either.

    That you are more than an extension of their abuse

    That all you have dealt with, are tools too for making you strong.

    You and I have put up with so much, that its now time to fly.

    As a friend commented to me, there are nuances to this, that a short article can never convey, my focus on this is more parent/child abusive relationships, but that doesnt negate the possibility/reality that partner relationships can be very one sided and these binary occur. The adage that ‘they dont change’ unless we do is undoubtedly true, but as you do change, seeing the extent of that weight can start to be released..

  • Tears of Validity

    Validation

    Vindication

    Someone else gets it

    Someone else believes me

    Someone else names the monster

    Someone else means, im not alone

    It means

    It wasnt me

    It wasnt my fault

    There was nothing I can do

    There was nothing I could say

    There was nothing going to change

    (except me)

    Validation steps along a tormented life of abuse

    Tears mark the safe stations on the pathway

    to the wall of no return

    To the safe lands beyond

    Relief tears

    My load is lighter, its wasnt mine to carry

    Validation

    Someone else can actually see

    Someone else has heard me

    It wasnt my fsult

    It wasnt me

    Light feeling

    Tears of Validity

    Won and gained through the battle

    of trying to get others to see

    what I have seen, and felt

    and received

    I was valid all along

    But was silenced and scared

    I was valid all along

    but was made to feel wrong

    I was valid all along

    Eggshell walking me

    I was valid all along

    My abuser was a she

    Vindication

    Validation

    You were right

    Is all I needed to hear.

  • When there is nothing, but relief

    I wonder – does ‘grief-guilt’ exist?

    Not the ‘I should have done this’ ‘ I could have prevented something happening’ kind of guilt – when there is grief – a bit like this

    But more, like , that feeling when you’re expected by other people to feel grief for the loss of something – and yet you have nothing?

    Like, that feeling when you’re meant to feel loss and pain – and you’d feel like you were pretending to feel anything close like that?

    Like, that feeling when you then feel guilty for ‘not’ feeling the way others might do about a situation, when actually that feeling of grief – is no where to be found?

    Grief-guilt.

    Guilt for not feeling grief – when somehow you’re supposed to feel grief – because the person who is talking to you would feel grief…

    Guilt for not being able to muster up any sense of emotional feeling – because, there is nothing.

    Grief-guilt – because Im meant to feel something?

    I know what grief feels like, feelings that overcome, that aching, of missing something and someone. Just shitty tears. Shitty tears that hurt.

    Love filled tears of loss, of someone I loved, and loved me back.

    Grief reserved for those for whom there is love.

    As I watched ‘The Boy called Christmas’, something was helpfully revealed to me

    Grief is the price we pay for love. And it is worth it, a thousand times over

    Matt Haig (A Boy Called Christmas, on Netflix now)

    It is.

    Grief is the price we pay for love.

    So – what happens when there wasn’t actually love?

    Grief may just be hard to find?

    You’ll miss them when they’re gone’ Some people often say.

    If you’ve not walked the path of toxic, narcissist, psychopathic parents – who ‘look’ like ‘nice’ people to everyone else – you dont really know.

    And by the way – they haven’t died…

    But I have taken huge steps in the last 2 years to remove them from my life.

    And bring others into the collective space of seeing them for who they are, and have always been ..forever.

    And they have, and do.

    Which has been really hard work – and no doubt many of you have stopped reading what I write… its painful stuff, I’m sure.

    So I don’t feel grief for the loss of the relationship with my parents – even though im possibly meant to, because , I think Matt Haig nailed it – Grief is the price we pay for love.

    If there was a relationship in the first place – there would be something to grieve over.

    But its always been the way it always has been.

    There was no ‘way things were’ – so there was no ‘restoration’ or ‘reconciliation’ – fine ideals, and even manipulative standpoints – a broken relationship implies that there was actually something.

    I might grieve the person of myself who had to hide for decades under the shroud of trauma – though that person is feeling safe to play again, to live and love

    I might grieve the lost time

    I might grieve the love I didn’t have , especially when I see it in others – and know that its ok

    Or the Cards I couldn’t send

    But it’s ok not to feel that actual tear stained, shitty, painful grief for those who have abused us, the caregivers who were meant to do more. I think we need to say this. It’s ok.

    Save the grief for those we actually loved, and who loved us back in truth. Those who natured and protected us, for even glimpses in our lives.

    We have enough actual feelings to feel, to notice and accept – the grief for those who we have actually lost, loved ones – that forcing feelings (to avoid shame) doesnt feel right at all.

    So grief-guilt – can go its merry way and jump the hell off.

    Permission to not feel grief. Permission to tell the grief guilt to be dispelled.

    None of us need to force grief, or be forced to. It’ll happen if it happens.

    So what do I actually feel?

    I feel peace. I feel free. I feel safe. I feel big.

    Vindication is a hard fought battle.

    I might feel relief.

    Maybe ‘Grilief’ is a more appropriate word.

    The combination of grief and relief – if theres grief at all.

  • ‘How can I stop myself becoming like them?’

    ‘How can I stop myself becoming like them?’

    Spiders, Clowns, Heights, Buttons, Spaces, The dark, Nuclear war, being bullied at school….

    These weren’t the things I fear in most of my life. It wasnt things.

    It wasnt just ‘that parent’ that gave me considerable terrors. Have a read of my story above for more.

    That was bad enough.

    That voice. Those footsteps up the stairs. That coldness.

    But there was something else.

    Something that I think we all fear at some point in our lives.

    Was something I feared from the age of about 14

    Even if we have half decent respectable parents – it can be that weird thing of starting to act like them when we get to ‘that’ age, or ‘that’ moment – often when we have kids of our own.

    But what if your parents have been utterly abhorrent, in one way or another? What if they have been physically, emotionally or sexually abusive? What if they have few redeeming features at all? What if they are narcissistic/psychopathic to their core?

    When we see those parents for who they are – the light dawns – and for me it was a fairly early age – but could do nothing about it – the fear becomes very real.

    The fear is this:

    How do I stop myself becoming anything like them?

    And it plagued me.

    It might plague you too.

    That has been one of my biggest fears all my life.

    Will I end up being abusive? Will end up treating others the same? Am I psychopathic myself?

    Its a question I remember asking when I was still a teenager.

    Will the pattern continue? and Am I likely to turn out the same?

    how can I stop this? Will I be able to prevent it?

    Theres something else that caused me to worry about this. Its that the same abusive parent would often suggest that I was just like them.

    We’re just the same James‘ she would often say – we both have this kind of personality, and I remember thinking, even then queasily, no I’m not – people actually like me, and I think I know how to be kind to people.

    But have you ever had that situation where your abuser wants to alleviate themselves by saying that they’re not much different to you. Its like they’re trying to convince themselves, and yet at the same time be utterly bewildering at the time.

    Youre just like me, Don’t you dare think you’re better than me, we’re just the same.

    Oh the horror.

    How to emotionally confuse , gaslight, me as I knew then, that I was and am nothing like them and have no desire to be, at all.

    Yet with that fear in mind, what happens?

    It’s complicated.

    On one hand to try and not be like abusive parent, I become like other parent, accommodating, boundary less, unable to stand up for myself. In other words….too nice, helpful, open, and then walked all over..and also a shell of a person….. but on the positive… at least my fears aren’t realised….

    Im just then a walking punch bag ready to be pierced with defence mechanisms so high.

    Its like from over compensating in one way, I end up somewhere else – instead of damaging others deliberately, im damaging myself.

    But was there any real alternative anyway? Thats what I had to do to survive the childhood with the monster anyway. Stay small, stay out of the way, and fearfully accommodate with eggshells like landmines.

    Yet in another way, I would ‘end up’ like them… told you it was complicated.

    In desperate attempts to be seen, heard, validated and affirmed…that never arise anyway – (so quit this when you can – emotionally immature parents cant give this, however hard you try) – I sort of end up in places of work that they might acknowledge and validate. This isnt unusual either, how many kids become vets because their parents are – how many children do this out of ‘trying to please’… ? So, subconsciously, I think, I end up working in churches and ministry for 20 odd years, a default on one level, and somewhere in there is a thought about deep conformity, as the older, trophy child.

    So I would end up becoming ‘a bit’ like them, in the work that I do.

    Id spend most of my lifer up until the age 40 wrestling with that voice in my head, that fear of ‘don’t be anything like your mum’ thing, I wouldn’t know how to stop it, and a torment of analysing my actions to assess my motives, my behaviours.

    What I know now, is that kind of emotional trauma suffered by me , that I normalised to an extent, through childhood, has needed a place of safety, the reconnection with my family to share the common stories and name the abuse, the love of friends, and my partner Christelle, two, maybe more bouts of therapy, lots of books to help me see and understand everything. To realise now, though that I am not like them, because unlike one parent I have protected myself, and others from them, I am making others aware of them, and also the wider world aware of the effect of abusive mothers, and also reconnecting deeply with myself, to not be the shell, the mask even, that was.

    They do say that if you are worried about becoming like that person, your own self reflection is likely to cause you to be very different, as this is often a quality they dont have. If you think you might end up being a psychopath, you’re not one.

    That mask and shell might be the subject of a future piece.

    Do have a look on the resources page for books and articles on emotionally immature parents, that I found useful, and you may do too.

    Thank you for reading, please do like this blog, share with others who might find it useful, and if you can make a donation to my work, you can do do in the KO-FI link below. Thank you.

  • Allowing Shit to Settle

    No thanks

    I’d rather pretend the shit didn’t exist thank you very much

    I’d rather add a whole layer of other stuff on top of it

    I’d rather pretend that the shit was actually roses without any thorns

    I’d rather do avoid the shit, and run and hide away

    I’d rather distract from the shit

    Id rather bypass the shit and say it was just God’s plan for me to endure

    I’d rather keep busy that sit with it.

    I’d rather cover it up with comforting food

    Or hope that entertainment soothes it

    Or scroll on Facebook to take on even more, or get annoyed at something else

    Or go to a football match or do some exercise to ‘get the anger out’

    I can’t allow it to settle

    That would mean accepting

    Feeling it, smelling it

    Sensing it in its fullest sense

    Realising that it exists

    And it has affected me

    And I feel sad, I feel angry, I feel hurt,I feel..what ever this dose of shit makes me feel

    Rage, hurt, tears, coming out, from amidst the shit

    And then

    The voice from within that says, you are not the shit

    I am not the shit, I am bigger than it

    I let it, but it isn’t devouring me, I can feel it, look at it, and realise that I am me, and the shit isn’t me

    Even if I am in it or have been given it

    It’s not a place to want to stay and now that I’ve felt it, I can move away

    And not keep it buried, hidden or avoided to come back to..and deal with, another day. Piling more and more above it

    Naming it, feeling it, sensing it, letting it settle, and be

    And breathe, and know, that I am more, I am bigger, I can see

    That there’s a way out, that I can take, and in the quiet of nothing

    That voice , that me, is waiting to speak, and heal, repair and recover, rebuild and remake

    And Ill look at the shit one day from a different place, and realise how far I am from it, and I needn’t look back, because I dealt with it once, twice or many

    Clean air awaits, entices and breathes, it’s fresh and it’s pure, green grass in the fields awaiting our feet

    It’ll only feel good when I haven’t cheated, and try to enjoy it with a bag full of shit, I’m still carrying around, or buried deep, hoping never to be found.

    Letting it settle and letting it be

    Is part of the way of making me free.

    (thank you to Gabriella Russo on Facebook for the image)

  • Surviving Psychopathic Parenting (Part 20) Turning up to school, with blood on my hands

    (TW, Self Harm)

    There was blood on my hands every day I was in Primary school.

    No scars of the pain of abuse, apart from my own.

    Torn away skin

    On the top of my fingers.

    Every day pain.

    Squeeze those fingers. Make it bleed

    Feel that pain.

    Make it sore.

    Every day pain.

    Pick that Scab and make it worse.

    My fingers, my nails, my spots, my hair

    Needed to feel something

    No signs of abuse on my body, except what I did to myself

    Soften that nail, break it off, and wait for the pain

    How bad will it be

    skin peeled back

    Infections

    Blood red turned to white

    Septic fingers

    That smell and

    sting of TCP

    Septic fingers

    Signs of anxiety, fear and self sabotage

    Septic fingers

    Septic home

    gnawing fingers till they bled

    Punished for picking them

    Hands slapped more

    Pain on pain

    Shamed for picking them

    Pick the skin back

    make it bleed

    my body doesn’t matter

    Pain I needed to feel

    And if not fingers, toes

    Toes bleeding through the night

    Kicking footballs the next day.

    Blood stained socks in school shoes.

    My Pain body. Body full of pain.

    Trying to squeeze it out , one septic finger at a time

    get the pain out, will it go away?

    Pain, the only feeling I was able to feel.

    Pain was all I deserved to feel

    Pain, in a septic home of terror.

    Pain Pain go away

    Come back the next day.

    Another nail, another unhealed bit of skin

    Sore, bright red, raw, pain.

    Bite, bite, pick, pick

    Cant let them heal.

    Stay sore.

    Self inflicted wounds

    Hiding scars of terror

    Of loveless neglect

    Feel the pain

    Never let it go away.

    Turning up every day

    With blood on my fingers.

  • Facing up to the Male Crisis

    Facing up to the Male Crisis

    I have been reading ‘The Courage of Hopelessness’ by Slavoj Zizek (2017) , its a hard read but an interesting one. He tackles some interesting subjects , ranging from Brexit, The EU and in his last two chapters the responses to the US presidential election win of Donald Trump in 2016.

    In this chapter he write the following:

    Men are gradually turning into perpetual adolescents, with no clear passage of initiation enacting their entry into maturity (military service, acquiring a profession, even education) . No wonder then, that in order to supplant this lack, post-paternal gangs proliferate, providing ersatz-initiation and social identity.‘ (Zizek, 2017)

    The section makes some fascinating observations on the nature of the figure Women adopt with in the capitalist ideal. However, it is the ‘Men as perpetual adolescents’ comment that I thought it fascinating to reflect on. Trump, being that archetypal perpetual adolescent.

    Perpetual adolescent’ is an interesting phrase? What might that mean to you?

    What characteristics might this be in reference to?

    Someone with no self-awareness, taking no responsibility, quick to blame others, ‘spitting their dummy out’ , too much ego?, having little empathy, black/white thinking, not great at planning, impulsive, reactionary, rebellious non conformity, school yard bullying, getting what they want?

    I’m reminded of this quote in a guardian article referring to the current prime minister ‘Remember what a teacher at Eton wrote to his father in 1982: “Boris sometimes seems affronted when criticised for what amounts to a gross failure of responsibility … I think he honestly believes that it is churlish of us not to regard him as an exception, one who should be free of the network of obligation which binds everyone else.” A justified retort, of course, would be that this is the exact mindset that Eton is designed to produce – but even in that context, Johnson seemed to be in a league of his own.’ (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2021/dec/12/boris-johnson-crisis-contempt-covid-levelling-up?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other)

    I might challenge Zizek on the point that not all adolescents are like this – many matured to quick, and many young people take lots of responsibility on, and challenge authority, make positive decisions etc etc… but the point is well made, I think..

    In his book ‘Surrounded by Psychopaths’ Erikson suggests that CEO, Media and Sales are 3 of the top 4 professions where a psychopath might work – these are all roles created by capitalism, as Ronson describes in this fascinating and humorous TED talk. A psychopath is someone who shows no remorse, blaming others. Narcissists, closely related to psychopaths thrive in bewildering black/white, right/wrong dualistic thinking. Frederik Riberson describes this well in his videos here – are some of these consistent characteristics with ‘perpetual adolescent’ type thinking?

    Maybe I’m making a few quantum leaps here, but is there more and more a Man crisis? – and does western capitalist society cause/create the environment where this is in even more evidence? Especially to be ‘successful’ within it – is to reject humane qualities – emotional intelligence, warmth, genuineness, complex thinking, empathy?

    A piece in the Guardian this week said the following, in relation to male and female leaders:

    https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2021/nov/30/it-is-crunch-time-for-humanity-we-need-everyone-to-start-leading-like-a-woman?CMP=Share_iOSApp_Other&fbclid=IwAR1ZrXub5LsOdN74eyynbjwtfKDslA6x15OEjLYRiiSCaX1g3LPpm8TpAzQ

    Is this about mediocre men Bullying their way to the top? – The BJ’s of this world? The piece also encourages a different type of leadership, a feminine one. (and thank you Jenni Osborne for highlighting the article)

    Is Mediocre man, the same as Adolescent Man? – probably.

    What do you think? Is there a Man crisis?

    There is a different man crisis – and that’s the considerable reality of suicide being the biggest killer of Men aged between 30-50 in the UK. That is most definitely a crisis. Might one crisis lead to the other?

    Men – too given to their persona to not seek help

    Men – feeling shame or afraid

    Going it alone, and frightened to be called out – status to be kept – over kindness for themselves and others

    Don’t be weak, don’t fail, must keep going, must make more money, strength is about winning at all costs….

    and I get it, as a 43 year old male, I truly do.

    In a book on Farming, and farmers have suffered significantly because of capitalism and resultant suicide, James Rebanks offers this, on the state of the environment, and also the human soul. For me it offers something in the remaking of the male.

    Someone who knows the land our very food grows on, might just know something… i challenge you to reflect on this:

    ‘What will our descendants say of us, years from now? How will we be judged? Will they stand in the dust of a scorched and hostile world, surrounded by the ruins of all the exists today, and think that we , who could have saved the earth, were thoughtless vandals, too selfish or too stupid to turn back? will the future know us as the generation who pushed things too far, on whose watch the world began to fall apart, who had so little courage and wisdom that we turned away from our responsibilities ?

    Or

    Will they lie in the cool green light of the oak trees that we planted and be proud of us, the generation that pulled things back from the abyss, the generation that was brave enough to face up to its own flaws, big enough to overlook our differences and work together, and wise enough to see that life was more than shop-bought things, a generation that rose above itself to build a better and more just world.

    This is our choice

    We are at a fork in the road

    There are a million reasons to believe that we are not big enough, brave enough or wise enough to do anything so grand and idealistic to stop the damage we are doing. We are choking to death on our own freedoms. The world of human beings is often ugly, selfish and mean, and we are easily misled and divided. And yet, despite everything, I believe we, you and I, each in our own ways, can do things that are necessary’ (James Rebanks, 2020, p266-267)

    and as Zizek puts it:

    The way to confront anxiety is to look at ourselves

    Zizek, 2017, p281

    Often its desperation, despair and the dive to the depth that causes the change to occur. Midlife awakening, crisis or breakdown – call it what you want to. Transformations do and can happen from within, and happen when there’s no choice but too. Only we, men can change. What do you think – is there a Mediocre Men crisis? And what questions might we want to ask ourselves, as men, deeply to be courageous, face our flaws and be brave to do the responsible thing?

    Its time to face, fully the prevailing male crisis, and it starts with each of us, and it continues with our own boys.

  • On being a Man, and ‘Man Enough’ : I quite liked this

    Over the last few weeks, because of a combination of some self-realisations, and also being under the weather with ‘the worst cold in history‘ I have been watching TED talks, and you know me, ive not been attracted to the science, technology or ‘how to make it in business TED talks’ but the ones on emotional health, growth and vulnerability.

    I was in a bit of despair, for at one point all I was finding was women talking about emotions and wondering ‘where are the men?’

    Do men talk about this stuff – or on TED is it men who talk about ‘leadership’ and ‘creativity’ and women who talk emotions, relationships, vulnerability and sex.. almost..

    Then I found the one above, with Justin Baldini…. in which he also asks the question..where are the men? as well as being self reflective about the culture of growing up male, of masculinity, and about pretending. Pretending being an actor, playing roles of men that were nothing like he was as a person.

    I quite liked it. So ive posted it here, so that you might want to have a look too.

    Or so that you know where it is

    Do let me know what you think, what questions does this TED talk raise for you?

    What did you like, what did you not?

    Men, are there Men in your life you talk real to? – are there men in my life?

    Do comment below: