I am feeling a lot of compassion for men lately. Reading the news doesn’t help me with that, but my therapy work does. The topic is ticklish these days, with the onslaught of throbbing, bullish boys in courtrooms, etc. Even the gift of a Jumbo Jet seems so phallic, Freudians are cocking their heads. It’s no secret, male super power huddles happen daily in politics. Even the Pope can’t break it up.
We’re all inundated and worn out watching warlike, swaggering arguments in governments. Still, in contrast to all the blustering, authoritarian vibes in the world, what I see in my office is men’s sincerity. Twenty years ago, women “dragged” guys to therapy. Now, around ninety percent of the time, men call me. Witnessing their regret, frustrations, tears, needs, confusion and worries seems to heal my own father-wound too. I understand better now, men’s struggles.
(Respectfully, these references to men include those who identify as male or he/him/they/them, etc.)
I am honored to watch males trying to fulfill their relationships, refurbish their self-esteem, learning collaboration and trying not to shrivel in the face of sensitive conversations. I grieve with them about lost years of stonewalling, barricaded from loved ones, overworked and weary of their heavy shields. Often they don’t even understand their own resentments. They just don’t know another way. Vulnerability was verboten. Fight or flight impulses were inbred. When they ask me, “How could I have spent thirty years being like this?” I say, “Who would have taught you otherwise?”
Males have been taught for generations to be silent, stiff, raging or passive-aggressive. They mimic their own dad’s behaviors, or society’s, or they rebel. The correlations are clear: “Subjects who reported receiving higher levels of childhood punishment were significantly more angry than low-punishment subjects.” (Raised to Rage/Milburn and Conrad.)
Yet, I’m genuinely celebrating this Father’s Day season. Change is gonna’ come. Maybe my office is a small space in contrast to a humongous thrust toward greed and fighting. But, it makes me optimistic. I share Chelsea Handler’s glee about guys in her book, I’ll Have What She’s Having. “My friend Martha has two sons named Charlie and Brooks, ages seventeen and fifteen, and whenever they came up from Squamish to ski, they’d text me to meet up. Between Jack, Calvin, Charlie, and Brooks, I was becoming more and more hopeful for the future of mankind. They were all such great young men… I wasn’t used to teenage boys who could make conversation with adults….”
I hear youth talking to their parents in counseling sessions, telling them about their longing to be valued and understood. Dads learn to be relational, with empathy. They were taught to set rules, give advice, and be authoritarian. But, as Terence Real, specialist in men’s issues, writes: “Sons don’t want their father’s balls; they want their hearts.”
Nothing replaces our yearning for dad’s positive regard, it’s like fertilizer – so that we can bloom. My own dad didn’t spend much time with me. But I found supportive male community mentors who helped me, and we all can. In college, my inspirational, ablaze drama director Jerry Seifert bolstered me. I felt a little like the Statue of Liberty around him. His twinkly eyes invited creativity, pride and roaring laughter.
When we feel respected, we bloom.
Katy Byrne, LMFT, Psychotherapist in Sonoma, Ca. author “From Conflict to Communication.” ConversationswithKaty.com
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