Guest post: Blowing the tough guy paradigm on mental health-“Man up & let your guard down.”

Despite all the usual uproar over Bell Lets Talk day, the good that comes from that day is still far more valuable than any concern over free advertising for a corporate entity. But often since few see that good, it’s easy to forget once the day has passed.

This year I knew that instead of simply marking the day by tweeting to raise funds and sharing stories, it was important to continue the discussion, particularly because several male readers broke the tough guy paradigm and tweeted their experiences…and some of those tweets resulted in other men sharing for the first time.

It was  bit of a domino effect. And because I have seen first hand how much strength it takes to reach out…it makes you anything but weak… I wanted to keep the discussion going. I asked a friend who started out as a follower on twitter, to share his unique experience.  He wasn’t sure at first but I left the door open. And I think writing it was both overwhelming and cathartic as putting  words to any tough experience often is. His battle with stage 2/3 oligodendroglioma is remarkable…but his battle with the feelings and emotions that come with it, even more so. It’s a story about cancer yes,but also a story about a ‘tough guy’ realizing it’s ok to need someone to talk to. There is as much to learn here for family and friends as there is anyone facing mental health challenges or struggles. I’m proud that he chose to share his story with all of you.

For as much hate & evil that happens on social media,there is incredible good too when it brings people together. There’s so much more I could say, but his story says it all. These are his raw words… his story.

Know you are not alone. ❤ And your comments, stories and support  are welcomed in the comment section that follows.

Lets Talk Day. Well, isn’t that cute and for the softest of kittens. But let’s take a walk back a bit….

There I was at 30, with my career dialed in, a house, a one-year-old girl and 3-week-old boy, I was told I had a mass on my brain. Everything changed.

I KNEW I was tough and I’d kick this things ass. It was pretty simple, brain cancer or not, I was tough enough to give it a run for its money. Rewind.

While spending 2 weeks of day trips hiking, kayaking and climbing in the summer of 2015, I started getting numbness and a ‘blood and fuzzy peach candy’ taste/smell. Like any ‘man’ I sucked it up, shook the bouts off and pushed on, while keeping it all to myself.

After 2 weeks of this it finally happened while I was driving with my wife and I had to pullover. Later that week I was having a CAT-SCAN and a doctor tell me “I’m not Willy Wonka…I’m not going to sugar coat this. Its bad, you have a very large mass.

Immediate thoughts are how do I tell my wife, my high school sweetheart? I wasn’t worried about me, I was tough, I was afraid of what this would do to her; she just had our son 3 weeks before. To this day, I still get vivid flashbacks of the moment my wife drew the curtains on my hospital room, car seat in hand. I just told her to come to the hospital, now I had to tell her why… it still makes me want to puke.

The next day I was at VGH in my gown, looking the same as the other sick people, but I was different. Sure, ‘brain cancer’, looks pretty bad, but I though, “fuck it, I’ve got this.” I’d let the surgeons do their thing, then just go balls to the wall on rehab and grind it out like every other thing I’ve done.”

I had worked hard to get to this point of my life, and now this. I had simultaneously swung a hammer full time to put myself through school part time until I graduated. I dumped my life savings into a tractor trailer and gave that a shot (didn’t pan out too well…), I worked 33 and 31 hr shifts cutting concrete in the same week because we needed the money for our first home, I used to hunt and fish, but not near enough to satisfy an itch. I had the sandpaper to get through it, or so I thought.

When you get news like this, people say you have two options, fight of flight.

The shock to the system is draining and invigorating, and perhaps is more 51/49 at times or 80/20 at others. I felt I didn’t have the choice-it was 100% fight, for my family, for my new son…I hadn’t even had the chance to know him yet.

But while waiting for surgery, in those moments after nighttime visits from friends and family, who all look like they were staring at a dead man, sober moments got the better of me.

I could be a vegetable, what if I need help toileting, I might not be able to go back to teaching, I would be such a drag on the family and the kids would never know their real dad…. I’d rather they knick something important and leave a good-looking corpse.

This is when strangers became very important to me. I couldn’t confess to my family that I was worried. I couldn’t show weakness to them, but strangers…. what did I have to lose? I didn’t know them, I didn’t have to save face, I could confide without reprisal. I had ‘the twitter’ so I used it to reach out.

Tough guys aren’t vulnerable, shit, you’re liable to be called a “pussy” or worse. Having the courage to ask for help or a shoulder isn’t easy, its tough and some “tough” things aren’t tough. They are fucking hellish, beyond tough. Everyone’s battle is different, and so is “being tough”.

 

It’s not weak to ask for help, it shows strength.

I wish I had seen that sooner.

I’m still dealing with my mess, but its better. Way better. I still have to grind it out day-to-day, but I’m starting to find terra firma.

Don’t be a wimp, go talk to someone, maybe not a shrink, just a person willing to listen. Don’t be too tough to let your guard down to repair the soul.

Armor needs to be tended to prepare warriors for battle. These demons don’t fight fair either, they kick you when your down like being swarmed by steel toe boots. Call me a pussy; I’m cool with that. Testosterone fueled society thinks its tough,but they haven’t dealt with shit compared to us… own it.