Living abroad, it’s easy to hide how and who you really are

It’s never easy to ask for help. It seems wrong, doesn’t it? Unflattering to our ideas of ourselves as self-sufficient and resourceful. Admitting that you need help, that some part of your cluttered life, emotional or otherwise, might require someone’s attention or support seems in direct opposition to hardwired ideas of masculinity.

We imagine everyone else is strong, shouldering endless responsibility and overcoming challenges without complaint, while finding time to charm and drink and win matches and be a sound mate. That’s not most men all the time, but yet we often hold ourselves to this ideal. The kind of ideal that sold cigarettes and sailing expeditions and large off-road vehicles in times past.

It’s important to recognise that a “real man” doesn’t actually exist, and he is certainly not quantifiable by advertising tropes for moisturiser. Our fathers and grandfathers, our idols and heroes both known and unknown were all flawed and found wanting in many pronounced ways. That doesn’t make them bad men, or somehow less than what we perceived them to be, it makes them human.

Today’s marketing campaigns have us bearded and fake-rugged, smelling of forest pine and bourbon cologne so we can work better on Powerpoints and scaffolds, miles and miles from any decent green belt or wilderness. Everything in the current culture is a nod to the past where men were apparently solid and stable and shaved with a cut throat and rinsed whiskey to get rid of mouth ulcers.

It’s cyclical; we’ve endured metrosexual and lumbersexual (GQ, of course, is promoting the latest thing: The Dandy Wildman) to now some sort of post-hipster, paleo-diet, tech-savvy, culinary bon vivant with great skin and an expert knowledge of the most challenging slopes in Val D’isere. Who could keep up?

We are a slew of contradictions: fitness fanatics and heavy drinkers; great fathers and one of the lads; hard-bodied and terrified of a punch. To be a man in 2015 you have to be everything simultaneously, and that’s simply not sustainable long term.

The real man ideal is compelling, like a cult, hence all of the true believers, but we are losing people to this insatiable machine. Brothers, friends, sons, teammates and colleagues. People are falling through the cracks and we’re not doing enough to prevent that happening. Promising young men with seemingly everything to live for, tearing themselves apart internally trying to meet the standard and filling the spaces in between with alcohol, drugs, sex and travel. Always pretending to be in a good mood, always great craic, never someone troubled by anything. Festival Lad. Session Lad. Outdoors Lad. Up early, going to bed late, never tired, up for anything, never weak.

And that, I think, is the most important word in all of this. Weak. Irish men can be called a lot of things before they lose it but “weak” will tip even the most rational person over the edge. Weak. Unable to manage. Weak. Unable to make the grade. Weak. Unable to do what everyone else does. Weak. Unable to ask for help.

I’m weak. Things upset me, I feel unable to cope sometimes. It’s taken a lot of years and a lot of miles covered to realise that and acknowledge my many failings. I’m 34 and I spent so much time cultivating an image to hide this weakness, something to project to the world, and that image took a lot of investment. It was something to develop, a passion project I could depend on when everything else seemed to be going badly. I was afraid that if that image was peeled back, if the façade was lifted, I’d be left with nothing to offer really and nobody would be interested in who I really was. And that’s when panic and anxiety used to sneak in and completely overwhelm me.

You can fake it for a while and live a very successful half-life on social media, especially abroad. Pictures with fun, attractive people you’ve met, filtered bars, sunshine and good times. It all happened, but out of context. Everyone at home assumes you’re having a great time so you can’t let them down. You post the good hours, the good times, the good laughs. Not the days on your own, bouncing from place to place, bored, lonely, broke, unsure of yourself and the decisions you’ve made. It’s easy to deceive your friends and family with a confident, pixelated cypher…but never yourself. You pay the price as the self-loathing grows and you wonder why you can’t get it together enough to not care what people think of you.

It took a bit of work but I allowed myself to be vulnerable and people didn’t run a mile. I accepted my flaws and people didn’t see this as a weakness. I let loved ones help me and I’m a different person for it. I’m grateful and very comfortable in my own pale skin now, although there are still remnants of the old affectations (see the hat in this picture). At the same time I’m acutely aware that every year hundreds and hundreds of Irish men like me, some younger and some older, don’t ever find that contentment. They are in pain and they can’t communicate this alarm to anyone.

The malevolent thing that is driving them towards destruction can’t so easily be stopped. Maybe they haven’t had the luxury of time and space to work things out that I’ve been fortunate enough to have. Maybe they feel that nothing can be done and they make impulsive decisions that change everything.

I'm not a professional, that's where Pieta House and Beyond Blue come in, but I know what's worked for me. Try and make some time to get to know yourself a bit better, understand your own personal trajectory and how that informs your current situation. Give yourself a break, don't conform to what a luxury brand suggests you should be. Your imperfections are what make you who you are. It's alright not to be the funniest, the hardest, the most creative, the most successful. Aspiration and ambition are positive things but you can't achieve anything meaningful if you're hauling yourself over the coals for every perceived flaw.

And that’s the thing, we convince ourselves no one is interested in us or our problems and people won’t help. They’ll actually fall over themselves to help you, but you have to give them a chance. Ask for help if you need it, tell people if you’re in pain. It’s okay not to carry everything on your own.

Pieta House in Ireland and Beyond Blue in Australia are professionals who offer a confidential and objective service. If you're in Sydney, come to The Light Ball on September 25th in Darling Harbour, meet some great people and support a fantastic cause. See Facebook.com/TheLightBallSydney or follow @LightBallSydney on Twitter.