James Ballantyne

Category: Journey

  • 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.

  • Boys and their Abused Dads

    Boys and their Abused Dads

    As a youth worker you get to hear alot of stories and moral panics about abusive or absent Dads, and the effect this has on children. It is often in regard to the behaviour of those children, especially in education or criminal contexts. Theres a cry for ‘better role models‘ – assuming that parental role models aren’t good enough. It is easy to blame the parents.

    The same rhetoric was used in those ‘christian’ mid nineties evangelical circles too that I grew up in, anyone else remember the ‘Even if your Dad was ______, God is a perfect father’ type stuff. Usually the reference to a Dad being abusive or absent. Strange thing then, that during those times there was little critique on that ‘perfect’ father sending a son to die.

    I digress, and the discussion on absent or abusive fathers doesn’t really need repeating here, only to note how pejorative it is, and only too often, sadly and tragically, how common this is, and with the misuse of concepts like ACES*, children and young people are predicted behaviour and outcomes based on this in state settings, and barely given a chance to be different at times.

    But my experience is different. And so might yours be.

    What about a boy raised by an abused Dad?

    Ive just tried googling images for ‘Abused Dad’ – have a guess at what I found?

    This:

    Note what emerges.

    Article and article about Abusive Dads and Fathers. men who abuse their wives, their children, who dominate, hit, provoke, sexually abuse, financially abuse and the list terrifyingly goes on…..

    Not Dads who are abused themselves.

    I watched this a few weeks ago

    In the TED talk above, Justin reflects on the qualities of his Dad, and how growing up he was determined to be different – Justin didnt want to be soft, kind and gentle – only to realise later that these were good qualities to have, and were part of his core.

    So I pose myself the question; What kind of a Man did I learn from my own Dad?

    Let’s start with the positives – everyone, outside, and some inside the family love my Dad. He would do anything for anyone, mostly in a practical way – fixing, decorating, making, constructing, he is softly spoken and rarely impulsive. He worked hard, and didnt cause or create any stress or drama.

    But the rest of the time, he was a ghost. He was belittled and devalued, and threatened, walking on eggshells all the time. He could only obey the other parent, becoming the flying monkey, the accomplice, completely untrustworthy. He tolerated being lied to, by someone who was gaslighting him all the time. I dont remember him ever expressing his needs, ideas or dreams, and was told what to do nearly all the time. His invisibility extended to offering almost no nurturing or protection at all – deferring everything to the other parent, someone so sunk that they couldn’t be a healthy father figure at all. One who conceded.

    I could go on, as there is more, and none of this is to be critical of him – given the extent of the manipulation he has suffered – this is more to reflect on what its like being Male, and a Dad, and growing up with an Abused Dad.

    For one, there is almost nothing to read on this – even some of the emotionally ‘immature’ parent books defer to general characteristics of dominating Dad figures – and as I said above – try doing a google search.

    Boys or Girls and their Abusive Mother figure may come up, but what are the effect on a child of their abused Dad?

    What kind of Man/Masculinity did I see, and experience growing up?

    Someone passive to women or others needs – no regard of their own

    Someone with no role with their children

    Someone with no voice

    Someone weak

    Someone who accepted being lied and pretended to

    Someone who is weaponised by the other

    Just a tool for someone else to get what they want.

    I reflect on these, not with anger or bitterness, not with remorse or grief, but a sense of being in the process of understanding what the effect of an abused male care-giver had on my life – and not just an abusive female role-care giver. The abused dad rarely gets talked about, hen-pecked might be a mild term for emotionally manipulated.

    I think what i’m trying to come to terms with is how challenging it is to try and talk about this, ‘some dads are abused too’ ..’some men are abused in domestic abuse relationships’ ‘some boys have emotionally abused fathers too’ – and what’s likely is that these situations are so likely to go under the radar. As that boy, might be kind, sensitive and attuned to the needs of others – and not themselves, that boy might be more likely bullied than a bully, that boy might like the quiet life, that boy might have issues with women – or find themselves in relationships with dominating women, that boy might struggle in a number of ways, but those ways might not be as evident as they dont fit the stereotype, if stereotypes are there to be fitted into anyway. They’re unlikely to be loud in a crowd and make a scene – getting attention.

    That boy, might also struggle to know ‘how to be a man’ ….

    When the female parent once told me to ‘stand up for myself’ it was ironic in that that was something she wouldn’t allow to happen to her, by my Dad. Stand up against bullies…but not the one in the home… a man is never right, a man always gives way, a man doesn’t have an opinion… oh and I knew I would have been punished had I hit that boy back….

    I heard the advice as a teenager; ‘At least you’ll know how to treat a woman, given the way your Dad is‘ or words to that effect, and from a trusted source I internalised this, probably too much – to the detriment of treating myself, and being passive, putting myself lowest emotionally on the pecking order, because as I reflect I wonder how much that person saw and knew, and with the benefit of hindsight, the behaviour that has occurred 30 odd years since.

    I reflect on also on the question of how all these things, and more, might be similar to children who grow up with the experience of their mum being emotionally, physically, sexually or spiritually abused, and what that is like for them, and whilst I clock it here as being highly significant and impactful in their life. This isn’t , as I say my experience, but I want to note it – and whilst its significantly more common, it doesn’t make it any less damaging on the child – this is in no way a comparison piece, but something I wanted to recognise.

    There are plenty of cold maternal figures in the world, and plenty of female narcissists/psychopaths that go under the radar, yet alot rise in politics, business and also the church, and yet their damage to the men in relationships (and other females in their friendships) as well as their children is being more and more well known. What we don’t want to talk about is that Mothers have are cold, colder than ice, with only pretence of warmth, if that. So what might that mean for the Male parent, and how being the victim of domestic abuse , has on they children they have? – especially for their boys? What about the children, the boys, who get caught up the female narcissists loyalty games against that abused Dad? What kind of male/masculinity does that boy grow up with? What kind of insecurities might they have to deal with? What did I? The list is extensive – alot of written about already in my story above.

    For the Boys growing up with Abused Dads – what is that like for you? What resources have you found to be helpful in this? Have you found some good articles on this – please do share them below, it would be great to have comments and conversation on this, if you want to get in touch and share a story or piece on this, do let me know.

    And, to finish with that theological premise at the beginning, I can’t help but wonder what kind of God I internalised given the association that was made between earth and heaven Father figures.

    Maybe this is a conversation we need to have – whats it like growing up with an abused Dad?

    *ACES – Adverse Childhood Experiences

    Thank you for reading this piece, if you would like to support me financially as I share, write and develop conversations that are Healing for Men, you can do so here, all gifts and donations appreciated Healing for Men

  • Why its time to be kind..on the younger version of me

    Sometimes I think about what my 42 year old self might want to say to my 8 year old self, or my 16 year old self, or the 28 year old?

    Sometimes I wonder what I feel about the 8 year old, or 16 year old, 28 or 42 year old?

    Sometimes I wonder if I could say anything, would it have changed anything- and if it did, would I want it too?

    Do I look back with regret

    With anguish, pain or embarrassment?

    Do look back and be annoyed at what I could have done differently?

    Or do I look and see

    that

    all I was trying to do was survive

    and protect myself

    and somehow make something out of life

    Can I look back and see the missed red flags and think I could or should or would have done differently?

    But how could I know, if I couldn’t see

    Would younger me, like to know about the current version, because one day he gets there

    What does present me need to be reminded of, when younger me comes into view

    That he was scared and scarred and in pain too

    So what could he do?

    A bundle of pain, shame, guilt and pretence

    Nothing. He couldn’t have done anything.

    Living a grey life, forgetting the dreams.

    The Butterfly is grateful for the frumpy caterpillar

    The Tree, for the acorn

    I cannot go back to younger version of me, but

    I can be and kind to he, and I am to me

    I can have grace and let it be, let it go

    I can just say, that my inner child, its time to be free

    I can just say, its safe now to grow

    Love myself now, love the me then

    Its time to just be.

    Here in the moment

    Love myself now, and love me from then

    Love myself now, and love the me new

    Rest in the version I currently am.

    So, you did good, aged 8,16 or 28 – there were positives too

    You made decisions to be good, to learn and to grow

    You had courage and strength, and despite what was lacking

    Theres stuff to be thankful for, in amongst all the storm.

    Don’t look back in anger, I hate that song.

    Instead, Be kind

    on the previous version of younger little me.

    So what would I now say to, that younger version of me?

    What do I feel about that version of me?

    It might be nothing but admiration, pride and respect, instead of regret

    pain and embarrassment.

    Time to accept, time to thank, time to be.

    Im finally me.

    Matt Haig, The Comfort Book, 2021

  • On Shame, Vulnerability and Faith – the experience of women – a conversation to listen and learn from

    On Shame, Vulnerability and Faith – the experience of women – a conversation to listen and learn from

    Two of my last posts have been about Shame and Vulnerability, and in particular the areas of shame that may be more prevalent in Men, given societal expectations.

    So theres Shame that men feel.

    Theres also Shame that men create – that Women feel, that women carry and hide that affects them.

    In the industries run by men, that perpetuate shame – to control to to make money.

    In the faith industries run by men, cultivated by men – that damage, wound and inflict shame.

    We have a responsibility, given, that we create society.

    If you hadn’t started to listen to Women, and their stories of how shame affects them, in faith contexts, in society – then maybe its time to.

    Not deny it, not to reject it – but to stop and listen

    And recognise, deeply, our part in this, and to do something about it

    So I share with you a personal, warm, honest, sometimes sweary video below of my partner Christelle, and our friend Marie, – both previously evangelical Christians, both had been in ministry, both in their 40’s in western society.

    Do watch, and listen,

    What surprises you? What do you learn? what might you change as a result? What has to change?

    Healing ourselves is about being open to listen, about acknowledging the pain we’ve inflicted, and making amends – to do better.

    Please do put comments below, like and share the video , ill put the link below too.

    The link is here https://youtu.be/xsqDC0Q4OrE

    I would like to add that if you are interested in exploring the subject of Shame, Trauma and Christianity even further then further reading on this can be found by Karen O Donnell and Sally Nash in the UK, and Serene Jones, Shelley Rambo in the US – they have , in the last 20 years, began to write on shame, trauma and theology. It is worth a look, do follow Karen on social media for details of studying this subject in the UK too.

  • What have I done to deserve this? Salvation through The Pet Shop boys (Healing and Recovery Part 11)

    What is the music that saves you? That carries you?

    Is it music that makes you dance in the kitchen – despite the ‘rain’ or pain?

    Is it music that soothes?

    Is it music that takes you to that place of joy?

    I recently started a conversation on twitter titled ‘ what is the music that got or gets you through the difficult times? ‘

    Many genres were shared, from ballad, blues, jazz, classical – and pop and rock, it was one of my most popular conversations starters on twitter, and showed to me, probably unsurprisingly, how much music plays a part in our lives – notably the shit times

    (im not on twitter at the moment, so cant recall all of them) But if you’re reading this and want to add your own – do put it below – theres no judgement at all – if it gets you through, it works for you, thats all that matters. (and do share this piece on twitter if you’re reading this and want to, and enjoy the conversation on music too)

    So – what about me?

    Firstly im not going to talk about music growing up for me, it represents the same childhood pattern – of implicitly having to stick to ‘christian music’ – for fear of those parents and disapproval – and also being compliant. I remember turning up to my gap year training and having only christian worship music to count on as my recent CD purchase. Then again in 1996 I really didnt like Oasis….

    Anyway, fast forward a few years – and it was probably only after spending more time with young people that my music taste may have got better, and maybe that 2000-2007 wasnt that bad for half decent guitar based music – forget the rest…

    It didnt heal though and some of it was dreary, Snow Patrol im looking at you.

    What was the music that featured in my healing and recovery?

    Was it guitars and emo-rock?

    Was it 1970’s ballads?

    Was it 1990’s brit pop?

    Or 2000’s R’n’B?

    Or Gospel ?

    Nope.

    It was that music that I rejected from my own childhood.

    For, in the home of my friend who gave me hospitality for 6 months was a CD player in the kitchen. And a rack of CD’s.

    And mainly only 1980’s pop music.

    Beach boys, Erasure (I secretly liked Erasure in my teens) and others… but what I didnt need, looking back, was the music of requited love – what I needed was to go to the dark places – to get angry.

    I needed music that gave me strength to think that I wasnt to blame.

    Music to think and believe that I deserve better.

    Music to fist pump to, and also to give me language of what I had been through.

    Music that also somehow connected with talking to my personal shame

    It was music that felt rebellious

    Music that told a story that there was hope.

    When I think of my darkest place, and the music that carried me through, music that I played almost non stop for 6-8 months, it was The Pet Shop Boys.

    Yes, I have my friend and his Pet Shop Boys CD to thank.

    For that was part of my recovery – singing strong songs with a 1980’s pop beat.

    I wondered about writing the lyrics down to ‘what have I done to deserve this?’ but irony doesnt really get reflected in the words alone.

    So, here are the words to The Pet Shops song Its a Sin:

    {Twenty seconds and counting
    T-minus fifteen seconds, guidance is okay}
    When I look back upon my life
    It’s always with a sense of shame
    I’ve always been the one to blame
    For everything I long to do
    No matter when or where or who
    Has one thing in common, too
    It’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a sin
    It’s a sin
    Everything I’ve ever done
    Everything I ever do
    Every place, I’ve ever been
    Everywhere I’m going to
    It’s a sin
    At school they taught me how to be
    So pure in thought and word and deed
    They didn’t quite succeed
    For everything I long to do
    No matter when or where or who
    Has one thing in common, too
    It’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a sin
    It’s a sin
    Everything I’ve ever done
    Everything I ever do
    Every place I’ve ever been
    Everywhere I’m going to
    It’s a sin
    Father, forgive me, I tried not to do it
    Turned over a new leaf, then tore right through it
    Whatever you taught me, I didn’t believe it
    Father, you fought me, ’cause I didn’t care
    And I still don’t understand
    So I look back upon my life
    Forever with a sense of shame
    I’ve always been the one to blame
    For everything I long to do
    No matter when or where or who
    Has one thing in common, too
    It’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a sin
    It’s a sin
    Everything I’ve ever done
    Everything I ever do
    Every place I’ve ever been
    Everywhere I’m going to, it’s a sin
    It’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a sin
    It’s a, it’s a, it’s a, it’s a sin
    Confiteor Deo omnipotenti vobis fratres, quia peccavi nimis cogitatione
    Verbo, opere et omissione, mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

    And whilst this song for the Pet Shop Boys has one meaning – it was a song that helped me start get angry, and sing through the sin and shame culture id grown up with and in, and finding it easy to go into self loathing.

    So, for me it was the music of The Pet Shop Boys that was another part of my rebuild.

    Strange thing, that right now as I write this, and I listen to their POPART album, its easily over a year since I last listened to it, and maybe thats sometimes what music can be too. It arrives when we need it, and we move on from it. Im only listening now as it feels right to listen as I write this.

    What about you? Whats the song, the music that journeys with you through the storms?

    Do share below in the comments – id love to hear!

    And if you want a listen, here’s the Pet Shop Boys, back in the late 1980’s, not sure if ill appear below…

  • Sorry Brene – I got you wrong

    Ive got to admit I didn’t really want to like Brene Brown.

    Her name had been banded around for quite a few years, usually by the phenomenal women that I know…and on the ever shared many internet memes and quotes, there probably isnt a week that goes by when a Brene Brown quotation hasn’t crossed my path in the last few years.

    But I didnt want to delve in to the Brene Brown popular phenomenon.

    So I figured I didnt really need to read her books or listen to her stuff.

    I mean, everyone is doing the self-help guru act and isnt she just like other people – an American female Matt Haig.

    Im sorry to admit… I was maybe a tiny bit American self help prejudice…

    So, dosed up with Lemsip, a laptop, and after a week of self reflection, I took a step of vulnerability and gave her TED talks a watch last weekend.

    Opened myself up to the possibility of what she might be saying… 11 years after it was recorded… (up until last weekend my TED talk watching has included 5 in total I think – yeah I know)

    I was pleasantly surprised.

    Here was someone who spoke the language of academia – not mushy self help

    (Then again would she be on a TED talk otherwise..?)

    Here was someone who was both self effacing, witty and wrestling with herself in the process of the research

    Someone who was warm.

    Someone who spoke and made it possible for me to feel like she was talking to me—- oh hang on James, really?

    Yes..because she was trying to hide herself behind her ego knowledge. Being known for knowing things.

    And that was me.

    The clever one at school – who couldn’t dance….who tried to do sports

    The clever one – who found academia…

    I was probably avoiding Brene Brown…because I kind of knew that I would like her, and like what she was saying, about shame, vulnerability and relationships.

    She ends the second of her two TED talks with a shortened version of this quote:

    What do you think of this quote?

    I love and hate it at the same time. I love and hate it because it asks something

    Its about showing up, with a raw vulnerable self

    In my relationships with my wonderful partner, my fabulous children and also friends and my work colleagues

    Not avoid the arena, to not just be the critic from the side (and isnt so much of media the critic?)

    Its easy to stand from the edges and criticise – but life isnt a non participation sport – not life in its fullness

    Participation in life is a messy action, where feelings are felt – not numbed…

    Daring greatly

    As Brene had done herself – from academic critical thinker, to therapy chair and breakdown (sorry, Spiritual Awakening)

    So I was doing my best to stand on the edge of the arena when Brene Brown is on the stage, and her books are available. Rather be the critique from a distance, than entertain the possibility that id be vulnerable to admit resonating and liking what she might have to say.

    Theres something else too. Its not just about showing up on the arena, in full view.

    Its about showing up to ourselves.

    When the only critic is ourself – often the worse critic of all

    The one critic that we might need to talk to as much as the external critics too. Tell to STFU every now and then.

    So, thank you Brene Brown. Thank you TED for being an incredible resource on You Tube, Thank you 5 days of cold/flu which has given me time to delve into them.

    I got you wrong Brene, and I’m grateful that I found you at the very right time. Vulnerability and Shame might be what the next phases of my life are about. So, thank you.

    Have a look on TED for Brene yourself…I dare you greatly…

  • How does Shame hold you?

    How does Shame hold you?

    ‘When we (Men) reach out and be vulnerable, we get the shit beat out of us… and dont tell me from the guys…but from the women in our lives

    So I started interviewing men and..

    You show me a woman who can sit with a man with real vulnerability – ill show you a woman who has done incredible work

    You show me a man who can sit with a woman who has got to the end of her tether and his first response isn’t ‘I unloaded the dishwasher’ but he really listens – because thats what we need – then ill show you a guy whose done a lot of work

    Shame is an epidemic in our culture

    To find our way back to ourselves in our culture we have to find out how it affects us, the way we’re parenting, the way we’re working, the way we’re looking at each other

    When asked what the things men have to do to conform with male norms in culture, research showed the following:

    • Always show emotional control
    • Make work a Primary goal
    • Pursue Status
    • Violence

    The antidote to shame is empathy, if you put shame in a petrie dish it goes away.

    Shame needs three things to grow exponentially, secrecy, silence and judgement – it can’t survive with empathy.

    If we’re going to find our way back to each other, vulnerability is going to be that path.

    It may be seductive to stand outside the arena, when im perfect and bulletproof…but that never happens, we bring ourselves as we are to the battle ‘

    (Brene Brown, TED Talk 2012 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psN1DORYYV0

    I have spent the last week digging deep reflecting on vulnerability and shame, on guilt, on myself – and this brought me to the point of actually reading or watching something of Brene Brown, a name that to me had been only a social media meme, or someone who I hadn’t got around to yet.

    So I watched her two TED talks over the weekend. Whilst there’s so much to reflect on in full. Its these last few comments about Men that I highlighted above, that I felt it appropriate to share here.

    Lets look again. For a man in society to live up to cultural norms (in a US based research) it involves

    Emotional Control

    Primacy of work

    Status

    Violence.

    So shall we ask the question – do you agree or disagree?

    Or a better one – have you felt shame in not fulfilling these things?

    Or another – how much effort does it take to ‘go against’ them?

    What does shame feel like for you?

    Are you expected to be ‘in emotional control’ – around others who lose their shit – so what place do your feelings have?

    when was the last time you cried? When was the last time you cried, in front of your partner?

    Are you expected to work until – well until you are sick? Because you are meant to? Is your life about success at all costs?

    Status and power – Have felt the pressure or shame for not taking on that promoted role, or that position?

    Violence – Dont be the victim of bullying, stand up for yourself… fight back… – win at all costs ?

    Which of these resonates for you? Or might it be something else?

    If im honest I was shocked by these 4 things, especially Violence, but then whats the method in which superheroes win in films? or in video games? (as one example) – and it worried me that these were revealed as expectations and then areas in which Men might feel shame about, and realised that even if we dont think all apply to us – we can still carry shame because of just one of these areas.

    Maybe lets pause for a moment and reflect on the shame that we carry.

    What is it, and what is it doing to us that is likely to be unhealthy.

    What subliminal message about expectations and shame are we passing onto our children? What have we inhabited? What does shame and vulnerability mean for us, as men?

    I had to admit something to my partner Christelle the other day, she knows me as someone who is wise, clever, reads, who likes nature, adventures, travel and food, who is in work that involves justice, poverty and faith. I had to admit something, that feels like a guilty secret, in comparison of all these noble, creative, wise activities about me.

    And that was my also my following of sport. Specifically the capitalist business model team that is Manchester United – a team I supported since I was 8. My guilty pleasure, out in the open. But it felt almost shameful. Not liking football could be seen as odd in the UK, but that I support ‘that’ team (and not just because of recent results) seems so out of character with so many parts of me that I stand for. Though this felt trivial it wasnt in a way. It was a tiny bit of vulnerability on my part, a part of me that I often feel shame about, and hide, as it makes me feel less perfect, less with integrity, interested in something ‘trivial’. Though it sounded trivial, it still felt like a thing I felt shame about.

    In another example : I had to take a covid test today, like so many of us in the last 2 years – but can you remember how it was ‘shameful’ to admit getting this disease? Shame and blame in culture… – and yes I am writing this post whilst dosed up on lemsips and a bag full of tissues to hand – and the test has come back negative…

    Maybe thats the thing with shame and vulnerability – its about giving ourselves away, to hope that we’ll be loved despite our imperfections, and take a risk – where its safe to do so.

    So to the Men who might read this – what might shame and being vulnerable mean to you – what are you scared of, or afraid of?

    What cultures in work, or religious groups, make it even easier to hold on to shame- where our real lives can be hidden away for pretence or expectation – to not be our real selves..pretending…

    It might be time to bring it out of the secrecy, silence and judgement.

    Do the expectations of emotional control, stays, work and violence affect you? – in what ways?

    Is it one of these things more than the others? And who and how might you begin to expose the layers of some of the wounds of shame and let them go, in a way like Matt Haig describes below:

    Imagine forgiving yourself completely. The goals you didnt reach. The Mistakes you made -(the choices that you made even). Instead of locking those flaws inside to define and repeat yourself, imagine letting your past float through your present and away like air through a window, freshening a room. Imagine that.

    Matt Haig (The Comfort Book)

    Of course, the other side of this is those who feel no shame, the tiny proportion, but still large number who might be considered sociopathic. Shame is part of being human, part of being a human that is more whole and humane.

  • Healing for Men; 1 Year Update

    Hey folks, I just wanted to write a piece about what’s been happening with me in the last few weeks and months as Ive realised that my writing on this blog has dried up a little.

    One of the things that ive realised all along with keeping a blog like this going, keeping it interesting, honest and thought provoking – is that the subject matter , myself, can then take a bit of an emotional toll. I began to notice that some of the things I was talking about, i was struggling to actually do, and I was writing more than I was actually doing the hard graft to rebuild after trauma itself.

    I also realised that I was sometimes veering on being too vulnerable about myself, wanting to share my story, share my healing journey, share my learning – like it was a new toy, like I was a new toy – with you all – but what that meant was giving myself away in a way that actually was something that I didnt and don’t need to do, in fact , in thinking about boundaries, about self care, maybe I shouldn’t.

    Part of me too, was and is enjoying some new reading recently, reading that has given me some different insights on spirituality and recovery, and though its relevant I haven’t really focused on healthy spirituality in this blog too much and didnt want to share, yet.

    So I kind of stopped for a bit on the personal writing front.

    I also stopped because I just wanted a break as well. I stopped also because I wanted to spend more time doing, living and being me – and also time with my partner Christelle who came over to the UK for a week, a few weeks ago, and it was great to be present, to be together, and to be very much off my laptop, social media or anything for a few weeks.

    I have also just started a Level 2 course in Counselling, and this has taken up a bit of my head space, the time of one evening a week plus the homework, and though its not too heavy a commitment, it is taking up, usefully some of my ‘non working’ time. Its a small step, but one that feels like im on a long path to further personal and professional development, within healing, trauma and what ive taken on board in the last few years. This too is a bit of a reason why I haven’t written for a while, somehow even small amounts of study writing at the moment are taking up a bit of emotional writing headspace.

    I have always said, I would love to have other contributions from others who may want to share their story, of men talking about emotional and mental health, about the challenges that can be in professional and personal contexts, and the situations and family dynamics that we may want to shed light on, like parental or sibling abuse. Please do get in touch if you have a subject, a story, a piece that you would like to share.

    I close by saying

    Because, this blog has now been going for one year, and I am honoured that you have read pieces that describe some very difficult situations, some of my pain. some of my journey, and I am even more pleased that as a result you, or friends of yours have become more aware of relationship dynamics and started a process of healing through therapy and recovery.

    Even with an almost 1 month break ive published 90 pieces on this blog, at nearly 2 a week, It was time I did slow down… but thank you for reading, sharing, liking and appreciated what ive written in the year!

    There is no easy way to avoid dealing with the things we have had to go through. We have to go through them. Often death and resurrection are two sides of the same coin, or as I recently read in Eckhart Tolle – Despair and Enlightenment can often go hand in hand on the same path. If something I have written has caused you to see, even in the despair and brought you closer to enlightenment then thats so good. I hope so, and if you want to share, please do. Do send me a note or comment!

    Can I promise more writing? Yes – im sure there will be, and my writing has emerged in bursts… but thats all for now, and so thank you, remember that you are valuable, that you do not have to pretend, to pretend to be the strong one, and also – if you cannot stop yourself from being ‘out of control’ and blaming others – then that can change too. Healing for men is about the ongoing awareness and healing for us all, regardless of what it is from.

  • My Early morning Wetherspoons Epiphany (Recovery and Healing part 10)

    Im writing this in Wetherspoons Newcastle waiting for my hourly train back down the coast.

    Don’t Judge.

    I can see the pint of beer for £2.19 or less, and food on the menu with a free drink for under £7. 

    The table is slightly sticky. 

    My bum is on a hard seat, as the more cloth backed moon chairs around a table are taken. 

    It has 3 floors, and it has an air of something in it, that I cant quite work out. Maybe freedom, reluctant freedom against a system, somewhere between that and content to be stuck in a victim mindset. 

    Faded images of the old city off Newcastle adorn the walls.

    Yet. It is full. 

    (for the non UK reader, Wetherspoons is a pub chain in the UK, known for, well, cheap beer, food and Brexit)

    And not that long ago, four of the Wetherspooons pubs in the north east had my fairly regular custom. 

    One of them was a place I went weekly to eat, the meal out with my friend who housed me when I had no where to go. 

    The first night I got there, penniless and with nothing, he took me out for food. 

    And that was the same every week. 

    Then another one nearby was one weekly bus pass away. So, if I went out for a walk, and I walked loads, take a bus into the city, then walk along the river and up to the beach, then back to Wetherspoons for a cheap lunch and drink, before getting the bus back. 

    In that same one, it was full. 

    And I was in it at 10am.

    For coffee, when the coffee was 99p for free refills (I knew the prices of all the coffee in all four of them), when I had very little money, coffee, or 3 cups of it at 99p was great, Costa or local independent coffee shop was out of the question. 

    People were drinking at 10am. 

    It was their place to be. 

    I was in there on my own, lost in many thoughts.  

    In Wetherspoons, I began to see them. Talking to the staff every now and then, or maybe the other people not far away, on adjacent tables, get a sense of peoples situations. Their torments, their issues, who had offended them, their rage. 

    Rarely any joy. 

    Drinking at 10am. 

    What were their lives like? To need to be in Wetherspoons drinking at 10am?

    But then, it dawned on me. 

    Its like what they say, don’t complain about the traffic when you are traffic. 

    I was practically homeless, jobless and drinking in Wetherspoons at 10am. But I was alone. 

    The only difference was that I was drinking coffee. 

    It wasn’t just a place in which I could see others. But I saw myself. 

    I saw at the time that I was no different to the 10am drinkers in Wetherspoons. 

    I was scraping around for the last 99p for 3 cups of coffee, some weeks.

    There was no moral superiority to be had, my pretense at even trying to read a book was just that a pretence. To all purposes I was the same, a human being lost, and wondering where their home was. Also realising that it was one thing walking alone, drinking alone was something I wouldn’t do, and being in a busy Wetherspoons meant that I was in the vicinity of people, alone, but not on my own, alone, actually but never lonely. 

    And where was I, also somewhere between feeling wounded and oppressed, and not being able to see, myself or the situation I was in. 

    Once I began to work, Wetherspoons was a great place, like now for working and writing, cheap coffee, the noise of people around, lunch at a fairly reasonable price, and it became a place that was distant from the home I was staying in, gave me a break and a boundary. 

    Was I the kind of person who would judge people in Wetherspoons before all this? Nope not really, and even now, there’s a difference between the persons in Wetherspoons and the values of its Owner. Sometimes I would be afraid of the noise in Wetherspoons if I was standing outside it waiting for a bus on an evening, sometimes when I walked in I realised I had to toughen up and be confident in myself just a little bit more, to walk in. Amongst the noise.

    Did going to Wetherspoons help me, heal me, save me? I’m not sure, was it somewhere where I could be invisible, where I could feel human, where I didn’t have to pretend and ultimately be anything or anyone other than a person in need of a coffee at 10am on random Wednesday mornings. Was it a place that gave me an insight into the darkness of my own soul? No, but I was a place which holds a kind of static, stable memory of a safe place to go to be just like anyone else. Where I didn’t have to be the me that looks like they have everything together, that has degrees and can think, the me that has a reputation, the me that had ‘a ministry’ or a ‘calling’ . 

    Where I didn’t have to talk to people where I had to try and pretend to be ok. Even people who I know now would have been fine with me saying my real stuff, i didnt know even how to articulate it, or want to ask for help, or bring others into the drama I was hiding. I wasn’t going to be asked the question ‘How are you’ in Wetherspoons at 10am in the morning.

    In Wetherspoons at 10am I didnt have to do any of these things.

    I was just a stranger in a pub drinking at 10am. Just like anyone else. Because I am like anyone else.

    Life might be more about being the lost stranger in the pub.

    Someone trying to find their way home.

    Speaking of which…my train is due..

  • How walking helped to heal me

    Maybe each day you should just go for a walk

    Said my friend who I was staying with after leaving the family home in the midst of my breakdown.

    By myself? I thought?

    Without a purpose?

    Just a walk?

    Not just ‘walk the dog’ or walk to a place, or walk to get to something – just a walk?

    Yeah, just go for a walk, it might do you good

    And so I did.

    Virtually every day. The walks I had done before I had done with a dog, the walks I had done before were with headphones in, the walks I had done before had been for work reasons. Distraction. Functional. Escape.

    And at first it was well, a bit awkward. Just going for a walk.

    It was a walk through a small edge of city village, through tunnels and there was the cliffs and the sea.

    But I realised that I liked exploring, and so I did.

    Whilst in the midst of so many clouds, I walked.

    Clouds etched on my face, as below you can see. One of very few photos of me. So much pain on my face, looking back, I was a shadow, grey, hiding, pretending to be ok.

    This was me.

    My friend lived near the sea and the coast, and I started to look a bit closer and enjoy.

    Sometimes I used those walking moments to take photos, to phone friends, to try and work out what was going on in my life, to try and understand.

    Mind all over the place, busy, thinking, clinging on, trying to make sense of the clouds

    Sometimes in those days I wouldn’t be completely present to the space I was in, so I’m not going to say that it was a state of natural bliss as I walked along the north east coastline.

    But I walked

    in my own cloud at times. But I walked.

    Sometimes I walked miles

    Sometimes I walked miles to place where there was a coffee shop on the coast.

    Sometimes I walked in the rain

    I would try and find new routes

    New paths, for me

    Most of the time I preferred to walk in a circle

    Id go early in the morning and get up and see the sunrise

    Other times it would be the sunset

    There was a bench on the cliffs that I could sit on and watch the sea.

    Getting out, by myself.

    Beginning to enjoy my own company.

    Beginning, the glimpses of beginning to sense a change

    Seeing nature. Seeing things. Perspective shifting.

    Tiniest specs of change

    Im not going to sit here a few years later and say that nature was healing me, but I might say that it was the beginning of something.

    Fresh air…the opportunity to breathe, when friends on the phone were saying breath, my air was coastal and by the sea.

    I could slow down. With no pressure or expectation. I could explore, get lost in the caves.

    Enjoy coffee

    Take a book even.

    And just be.

    Sit on a pebble and watch the sea.

    Sit and look at the pebble.

    Watch as others walked with their dogs.

    Eat bramble.

    Throw a pebble into the sea.

    Getting hot, too many clothes, or cold with too little, trying to get back before it got dark

    Maybe even finding the pub on the way back, or the old bits of railway nearby, that evoked that childhood railway joy

    The pub with the railway name too, and pictures

    Talking to strangers in the pub. Talking to strangers with their dogs

    Me, walking.

    There was always something to find, something to see. An angle on life that I hadn’t noticed before.

    And I was noticing.

    Todays tide was different, the sea was different, the cloud colour was different. No two walks ever the same. the world is different, and so was I.

    I was enjoying what I saw, and it was healing to the wounded soul.

    I went almost every day.

    I was bruised, hurt, confused, and yet walking was doing something, nature was doing something, my eyes were doing something.

    Something was starting to awaken.

    The silence of the sky, the crash of the waves, they took me away. Took me to the present.

    A walk will do you good.

    It did. Its the same for all of us..isnt it?

    And now I still walk, we all did during lockdown, dont you remember.

    We walked and sometimes stopped to see, to feel, to notice, that the world was bigger, and more beautiful outside.

    And that we are all wondering like strangers on beach, trying to find our way home, but doing it outside not trapped inside.

    I still walk, and now I have a better camera. I still walk and sometimes notice, and still walk and forget to.

    I sometimes walk and forget to take myself along, as im elsewhere distracted by the noise of the world. That sometimes I have to be reminded to stop.

    And be me.

    And notice.

    Notice the colour, notice the sky, notice the flower, the bird in the air.

    Just see it for what it is.

    Walking in amongst the industrial landscape, beautiful rugged, panoramic Teeside, walking along the beach, walking with myself.

    Taking myself out for a walk.

    Not just going for a walk, but taking myself, me, out.

    Nature was healing me, and helping me to see.

    As I walked, as I saw, as I felt awe and gratitude for what I could see

    Snippiets of moments where my mind could stop.

    Now I look, and look intently, and the colour, the movement, the scene, watching the eyes of the birds or dragonflies move.

    A walk gives me chance to see the possibility of something that helps me see the work differently, gives me the possibility of stopping, and focussing on something, whether its the camera or the binoculars, to see the world in detail, the smallest detail of the wings of a dragonfly

    and be captivated in a moment.

    Go for a walk it will do you good

    I rarely return from a walk feeling less calm that when I started.

    Something has usually given me joy.

    Something in me often has shifted.

    Walking might be my body way of doing natural EMDR, the treatment my therapist showed me and helped me to do.

    Step by step.

    Heart beat.

    As I walk, dont think…feel.

    Feel and walk at the same time. Sense it, sense the feeling like im sensing the sky.

    Feel alive, feel bliss, feel me.

    Sometimes a walk is just a walk.

    Its when I take myself out for a walk

    that I start to notice me.