In my role within a Division I athletics program, I find myself surrounded by an environment that embodies traditional masculinity. Toughness is the norm, and the prevailing attitude is to confront challenges through sheer willpower. This is particularly evident among the athletes I engage with—young men aged 18 to 22 who are physically imposing. One of the greatest hurdles we face is addressing mental health, especially depression. It’s crucial for them to understand that sometimes, powering through isn’t the solution. Feelings of homesickness, self-doubt, and the pressures of balancing academics with athletics can weigh heavily.
Over the years, I’ve heard about alarming instances of students attempting suicide. Reflecting on the fact that my son is only a decade away from the age of these athletes fills me with dread. I want him to grow up knowing that it’s perfectly acceptable for a man to express his emotions—to cry, to feel sad, and to seek help when needed.
While I don’t often cry myself, I recognize that societal norms have made it difficult for me to express sorrow. There have been countless moments when I felt the urge to cry but was unable to do so due to the emotional walls I’ve built. This is a common experience for many men, who are often conditioned to suppress their feelings.
However, I don’t want my son to carry this burden. I want him to embody strength but also compassion. I desire for him to navigate the complex emotions that accompany family life and relationships without fear of judgment.
It’s a challenge for me, especially when it comes to being a role model. My own experiences weigh heavily on me: I didn’t shed a tear when my father passed away, nor did I cry on my wedding day or during the births of my children. In fact, the only time I’ve cried in the past nine years was when my daughter had a medical emergency.
I worry that my son might be absorbing my emotional restraint. Recently, he displayed his vulnerability after a soccer game. He had been playing goalie—a position he loves—but felt overwhelmed as the game slipped away. Despite his best efforts, his team lost, and I could see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
Instead of repeating the phrases my father would have used—like “toughen up” or “don’t be a baby”—I chose a different approach. I knelt down, wrapped my arms around him, and whispered, “It’s okay to let it out. Just trust me.” He nodded, and soon, he was crying into my shoulder.
In moments like these, I realize the importance of showing him that emotional expression is not a weakness. It’s essential for his well-being, and I hope to guide him on this path. For more insights on emotional health and related topics, check out this informative post on intracervicalinsemination.com.
As we navigate the complexities of parenthood, I also recognize the importance of resources for family planning. If you’re exploring options for starting a family, you might find Make a Mom’s Baby Maker Kit helpful. Furthermore, understanding fertility treatments can be invaluable; resources like UCSF’s In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) offer excellent guidance.
In summary, as a father, I am determined to break the cycle of emotional suppression for my son. I want him to understand that it’s okay to express his feelings, and in doing so, I strive to be a better role model for him.