This week is Men’s Health Week in the UK.
I don’t take much stock in these things, but figured I’d jump in with a post on it.
(Letter II will be coming, don’t worry.)
My work with men has been fairly extensive.
It has spanned from being a journalist writing about men’s health, hosting a men’s mental health podcast, writing my book, Time To Talk: How Men Think About Love, Belonging and Connection, becoming a speaker on Men’s Mental Health, working as a school counsellor for boys aged 11-16 and, now, being a mental health coach and group worker for men.
Currently, I am running a weekly men’s group with Men’s Circle where we have the most profound conversations, working with men from all walks of life to build connections and a sense of belonging.
I also run my own men’s group for Christian men, which serves as both a men’s group and a Bible study. It brings the mental health conversation into the faith-based circles, and we have a great time unpacking our ‘stuff’ with God at the center.
The conversation on men’s health has taken a turn. As little as five years ago, we weren’t speaking about men’s mental health. I remember pitching columns and op-eds to papers and magazines that categorically told me that no one cared about men’s mental health.
I knew something different.
As a trained hypnotherapist and counsellor, and group work practitioner, I have found that men think completely differently about their mental health than what has been told.
Men do talk. (You can’t get them to stop when they do.)
Men think and feel deeply about the ones they love and want to show up for.
Men don’t always know how to love themselves, let alone like themselves. (Not in a self-serving way, but in a holistic appreciation for oneself.)
Men have been taught that their bodies are not worth caring for.
Men have worked hard on their exterior, but their internal worlds need work.
In my experience, there’s a moment in every men’s group I’ve ever run where someone says something that cracks the silence wide open.
“I’m scared I’m not enough.”
That’s usually it. Or something like it. Said softly.
Here’s the truth: men are carrying so much.
And most of the time, we don’t have the language or the safety to say it out loud.
So today, I want to offer seven things I’ve heard over the years.
Here are seven things that men wish they could say if they knew someone was listening.
7 Things Men Wish They Could Say Out Loud
1. “I feel lost.”
Not weak. Not lazy. Just…lost.
There’s a version of manhood that tells us we should always know the way.
But many of us are quietly drifting: career-wise, emotionally, spiritually.
We feel directionless but can't say that without fearing judgment.
So we keep performing certainty while silently spiraling.
2. “I’m lonely - even in a room full of people.”
Male loneliness is real.
It's not just about being alone, it's about being disconnected.
From friends. From partners. From ourselves.
We joke. We banter. But few people know us.
The world celebrates the stoic man.
But the unseen, unheard man? He’s barely surviving.
3. “I’m not okay - and I don’t know how to ask for help.”
The hardest thing for many men isn’t enduring pain.
It’s asking for support.
We fear being a burden. We fear being pitied. We fear not being taken seriously.
So we say, “I’m good.” Even when we’re not.
But men aren’t meant to carry the world alone.
4. “I have no idea how to express what I’m feeling.”
Emotional literacy isn’t something most boys are taught.
You learn to shut down or lash out.
You’re either numb or angry. Rarely anything in between.
But the truth? Men feel deeply.
They just don’t always have the language for it.
5. “I worry I’m not enough.”
Not successful enough.
Not strong enough.
Not desirable enough.
Not man enough.
These quiet fears are buried under success, sex, money, and muscles.
But they’re there, gnawing at the edges of self-worth.
6. “I want to be closer to other men - but I don’t know how.”
Many men crave deeper friendships.
They want to be seen. To be heard. To say “I love you, bro” without irony.
But vulnerability feels risky in a world that has mocked men for softness.
We talk about brotherhood. But very few of us know how to build it.
7. “I’m tired of pretending.”
Pretending to be fine.
Pretending to be confident.
Pretending to be strong.
Pretending to be someone we’re not.
The mask gets heavy. The act gets exhausting.
Beneath it is a man who wants permission to be real.
Some additional bits:
I am lonely. You might be surrounded by people - colleagues, partners, family - but still feel completely unknown. You still feel like no one sees you, but you are not alone. You’re disconnected.
I miss my dad. Whether he’s gone, estranged, or emotionally distant, the ache for fatherhood is a quiet wound. And even grown men carry it.
I feel like I’m failing. At work. At home. As a partner. As a father. As a man. Even the most outwardly successful men whisper this one in the dark.
I want real friendship. Not just banter or football chat. The kind of friendship where we talk about what hurts, what heals, and what matters.
I just want to feel okay. Not exceptional. Not perfect. Just okay. Peaceful. Whole. At ease.
Final Thought
These are not weaknesses. These are truths.
And naming them is not a betrayal of masculinity, it’s an evolution of it.
If you’re a man reading this, know you’re not alone.
If you’re someone who loves a man, maybe this helps you hear the things he hasn’t said yet.
To say the things we don’t always have the words for.
To build the language. The space. The brotherhood.
Let’s keep talking.
If this resonated, reply or share with someone who needs to hear it.
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Let this be the start of saying the quiet things out loud.
And maybe, just maybe, we find some freedom in the process.
Talk soon,
Alex