The Elephant in the Men's Group. Part 1

All right, let’s do this. If the idea of a Men’s Group is giving you ‘the ick’ and causes you to throw up a little bit in your mouth, same. At least, it did. I’d heard stories of these groups and imagined men gathering in some dingy basement or a buddy’s garage to complain about how men were ‘losing their status’ or ‘why women deserve less’, how men need to ‘toughen the fuck up’ and ‘restore the patriarchy’. Barf.

There is, however, a real issue facing many men and our society at large. Men are struggling. In the US, suicide is the second leading cause of death in young men. Only surpassed by ‘unintentional deaths’, which include motor vehicle accidents, drug and alcohol related accidents, and overdoses. Many men are isolated, don’t have the support or emotional skills to get help, and are finding answers in all the wrong places.

For the most part, my mental health is pretty good. I have a compassionate, understanding wife, and access to counselling when I need more support. But, like many, I struggle with depression and anxiety from time to time. It comes and goes, sometimes lingers, or meanders into dissociative episodes.

As I entered my late 30’s, I found myself with fewer opportunities to connect with other guys, and when I did, conversations often felt generic, repetitive, and guarded. Honestly, it started to bum me out. It was as if we (men) were all acting out this script we’d been given and adhering to the traditional masculine disposition—keep up the illusion that we’re doing just fine, keep your emotions to yourself, and whatever you do, don’t deviate from the script. It got to the point where I could predict the next few exchanges in a conversation and was just waiting for my turn to say my line. I was complicit too. What really got me was the level of apathy around it. It wasn’t like it was this big performative act; it felt more like everyone was just resigned to the fact that this is how it is.

But there was one area of my life where I was having great conversations. Ones that energized me, allowed discourse, and the space to compose my thoughts on all kinds of subjects—Running.

When you’re out on the trail for an hour or two with someone, you get into incredible conversations. Sure, there’s the initial surface-level ‘running chat’ about your gear, what races you’re doing, and so on. But then, something interesting happens; people open up. Perhaps it’s the perceived anonymity and peace of being out in the forest, or the endorphins flowing through your body, or the sheer fact that you’re one-on-one with another person for an extended period of time with no distractions. Whatever the reason, I loved it. I just needed a way to have these conversations without having to run for hours.

Around this time, I’d just finished reading Cory Richards’ book - The Colour of Everything, and was listening to an interview where Cory discussed his men’s group and delivered the following ethos behind it:

“[It is] an agreement to align on integrity, vulnerability and authenticity to unburden ourselves from the isolation that so often comes with the masculine identity we’ve been taught in our culture and the idea of individual exceptionalism.”

— Cory Richards

That was the catalyst for me to create a space where I could have meaningful, open conversations with other men. Where we could ask ‘how are you doing?’ with genuine curiosity, and answer it fully with vulnerability and authenticity. Where we could discuss the challenges we face both personally and collectively as a society, and evolve our thinking by listening to others’ perspectives.

“We gotta have a safe place to deal with it [our anger, sadness, pain]. That’s brotherhood”

— Ashanti Branch, The Mask You Live In

With this, I put my negative connotations of Men’s Groups to one side—with a little help from my counsellor—and set out with the mindset of Intention over Perfection. It felt uncomfortable, and I had no idea how it would turn out, but I decided to start, to act with good intentions, and see what happened.

That was the beginning of Really Good Friends Club. In Part 2, I’ll continue this story and talk about how the first year of our group has gone, including the first meet-up and how visibly nervous I was, the incredible support and vulnerability men can show when they have permission, and sadly, the missed opportunities to support other men in need in our community.

Until then, thanks for being here.

Tom