I woke up this morning from another dream about someone who I cared about who isn’t the same anymore. He was smart, funny, imaginative, and full of life when we met. And by the time we parted ways in life, I’d seen the light literally leave his eyes as life overwhelmed him and he became a bitter, shell.
I wish I could say this post was only about one person. But now that I’m thirty, I can’t lie, I’m getting really sick of seeing this happen over and over to the people I love.
Some of these men were lovers or love interests. Most of them were at least friends or people I admired. As someone who tends to be an outlier in work environments and social situations, when you meet someone who can mirror your energy and the qualities that light you up, it can really make a difference in your day. I already have enough things to cope with, so finding people I can share my passion and silliness with is like finding an oasis in a desert full of disappointments or “not enoughs”.
Honestly, it feels like I’m cursed sometimes. I can meet someone amazing, and like clockwork, I give it at least two or three years before said person’s life falls apart, and I watch another torch get put out. Either the person already had an underlying history of trauma and they had encountered the straw that broke the camel’s back or life circumstances was just too much for them to continue on the same.
At first, I blamed myself for this recurring secondhand trauma. After all, these guys were people I actively chose to have in my life to some extent. Was I doing something to set this off? Oftentimes, these circumstances are beyond my control, though. It’s like I have a magnet for walking into an environment, whether professional or otherwise, and BOOM, here comes Mr. Midlife Crisis in the making. It wasn’t cute in my twenties, and now I’m wincing at the thought of what awaits me in my thirties and forties.
Because deep down, what scares me the most, is what is causing this unfortunate pattern to happen.
Why is it that I see ambitious, creative men, full of life and able to tackle whatever comes their way, shriveling up by the time they hit midlife? Sometimes even earlier. I’ve seen a range of this behavior in my personal life, from transforming into jaded assholes to literal suicide attempts. It’s hard to ignore seeing the patterns with celebrities and leaders alike too. My passion for men’s mental health isn’t just rooted in concern. It’s also rooted in trying to figure out what we’re doing wrong as a society to destroy what I love best about the people I treasure.
And while I have plenty of theories, love seems to the be only thing that can bring them back.
To me, creative and imaginative men give me hope. Meeting them is like seeing flowers in unexpected places. Every time I smile and remember that I’m not alone out here. In my mind, it takes much more strength to remain authentically open, inspired, and excited for life than to be whatever they’re trying to advertise as masculinity these days. And if the destruction of men’s vulnerability and spark is the cost of what it takes to be considered a man, then frankly, I don’t want it.
I’ve cried more tears over losing friends this way than I can count. If it needs to be said as many times as you need to hear it, then I’ll say it here so you can always see it:
Creative men, we need you.
We love you, even if you don’t always see it.
Your heart brings joy to this world that only you can bring.
You’re worth more than the money you make or the mask you wear.
Your light feels like a welcome home every time I see you.
Without you, life isn’t the same.
And I miss you every day that you’re gone.
I don’t fight for the lonely because they’re alone. In reality, they’re just lost. There are too many lonely, hurt people to truly be considered alone. If I can remind you that rest is better than ruin and your strength doesn’t have to fit a mold to be powerful, then I’ve done my job.
So please stay. Create. Love. Cry. Crash out. But don’t ever change and be someone you’re not.
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