Help end the Stigma - Movember 2017

  Last year for Movember, I shaved off my goatee and grew a moustache in support of Men's Health awareness. It was the first time I had participated in anything like that and I choose to make the focus of my efforts on mental health initiatives. Getting men to open up about their difficulties with depression, anxiety and a host of other quiet diseases that affect them isn't easy and this year I would like to take that campaign a step further and try to help end the phrase and culture of "Man up."

  You hear it all the time, hell I used to say that exact phrase when talking to people who seem to always have some kind of issue. "Man up" isn't just about pulling up your bootstraps and carrying forward despite any obstacles, it has come to mean suppressing emotions, fears and depression. It symbolizes a kind of toxic masculinity where we revere the silent type who never reveal their pain or ask for help. We tell young boys to stop crying because it's weak, we tell them to control their emotions because a man is quiet and keeps such things to himself. When I was growing up we never were explicitly told to bottle up our feelings but the slurs that would rain down on anyone showing the slightest weakness made clear the path we were to take. I cannot imagine the pain caused for those who are gay, questioning their sexuality or place in the world when we were growing up as the words and actions of those afraid to express themselves would manifest in severe bullying, even assault. To protect at all cost your rep as a man was paramount and no one wanted to be seen as a sissy or worse. Being different meant an exile from the social world of our youth and we learned to keep our feelings to ourselves, putting up a front of toughness to the outside world.

  I have definitely noticed a shift in how we teach young men to deal with their emotions and mental health issues. Even coming from a generation where we were taught to keep it inside, I see an opening up in the channels of communication and that is good. But society and culture are sometimes slow to react and every time I see or hear the phrase "Man up", I cringe and want to ask the person just what they mean. Do they want the guy to ignore his mental or physical problems? To bottle up whatever he is feeling and conform to some out dated notion of what it takes to be a man? It isn't enough anymore to be silent in the face of increasing societal pressures and changing norms, we have to do better. Teaching young men that it is okay to show weakness and ask for help would go a long way to addressing the bigger issues facing us today. The rise in suicides, substance abuse and lashing out in an attempt to escape from or numb their internal pain means we aren't doing a good enough job of reaching out either. It is more than being good role models and showing the next generations how we can be better men, it is about communicating to them that we are supporting them as they grow and learn.

  We have to be the beacon on the hill for our fathers, sons, nephews, brothers and friends when it comes to mental and physical health. To take down the "Man up" crowd means we have to show vulnerability in asking for help when we need it and creating a place in our lives where we reach out to them when we see they need a hand. Not everyone who needs help will ask for it and I say putting the onus on those who are secretly hurting to come forward to seek help is simply ignoring a problem and hoping it will go away. If you care about someone and see they are hurting, sometimes it is going to take a little effort on your part to get them the help they need. And to those of us who let pride get in the way of seeking help I say the time has come to admit we can't do it all, we have doubts and fears and need a shoulder to lean on every once and a while.  I don't want to create a society of dependence but the silent screams of millions of men who just wish they could talk about things that are bringing them down and causing them pain and the needless deaths that result from that have to stop. "Man up" means internalizing your thoughts, feelings and doubts and the end result is the perpetuating of a culture where our sons and nephews continue the cycle. We can break the chains to a past that doesn't exist anymore and create a world where we feel safe and secure in expressing ourselves without fear of losing face or the respect of our peers.

  It is on us to show the way and lend a hand up to anyone we can. Being a man is more than being tough, it is about doing what is right and knowing when you need help yourself. To affect change we have to start somewhere and removing the phrase "man up" is a small and subtle change to broaden the tent and bring everyone closer to the help they need without marginalizing their mental or physical health needs.

  So let's try to do something, because doing nothing isn't an option anymore and we have to end the senseless deaths of our brothers. Every time a man hits the bottom of his resolve, the answer shouldn't be "man up", it should be the hand of a friend helping him to his feet and lending ongoing, positive support. I have come a long way since last November, seeking help for my own problems and trying to be an active friend for those around me when I see something is amiss. To truly change we have to acknowledge where we are coming from and where we want to be, the young men we are raising to go out in the world need to know that they are allowed to have feelings, doubts and fears. But we also have to show them that by opening up and addressing those problems, we are getting stronger, not weaker. Let's end the culture where our silence is killing those we love and leaving us a little emptier inside.

  I will be shaving away my goatee again this year and I hope you will join me (in reality or in spirit) in helping to end the stigma surrounding men asking for help when they need it. Let's work together to make sure the future is a place where everyone can find happiness and joy with their life.

  You can follow along on my Mo Space page at Drunk Polkaroo , donate and help us change the world for the better.

Polk

Growing Up Happy - Part 1

My Childhood

That hair!

My childhood was wholly unremearkable. Please don't try to misconstrue that in any way other than positive. I was lucky and privileged enough to be born in a time when one parent could stay home and manage the household on a single salary. My father worked at Stelco, the local steel mill, and my mother was the one who stayed with us, being on call for 4 kids whenever we needed her. Not wealthy, but decidedly middle class, we grew up never wanting for the basics and occasionally splurging on luxuries. Growing up in a large family and being the oldest meant I knew responsibility early and was always on the lookout for my brothers and sister.



So young and over 40 years later, still beautiful.

My earliest memories play around the edges of real or nostalgia. All day bike rides with our only connection to home being that it was our neighbourhood and the people who lived there looked out for one another. We had to be home for dinner, but lunch would often be some sandwiches and a precious can of pop tucked into your backpack. Out again as soon as the dishes were done, we would pause only when the streetlights came on and begrudgingly head home, with promises to meet up with our friends the next day.

Pictures were a luxury, as you had no idea if they turned out and getting the film produced cost money that would be better spent on groceries or the ever growing kids in our family. Yet we have album after album of smiling faces, family events and road trips that brought so much joy to our lives. We may have thousands of pictures on our computers now, but none of them compare to those dusty photos of 4 kids and their parents having fun. Smiling faces and happy eyes make me see just how much my parents gave us.

That time we met Gordie Howe!

Summer meant vacation and for my mom, that meant no rest from the demands of 4 busy kids. She always kept us moving, taking us on day trips, making sure we ate and engaging our obsessions, which would change from day to day as we found new and exciting things happening in the world. Our house was often the focal point for all of our friends as its joyful demeanour was a respite from their own chaotic lives. The pool was always full and one of the first outdoor responsibilities that we learned after gardening was if you wanted to have your friends over, you had to vacuum the pool. It prepared me for the many parties I would host over the decades. Always make the house ready and you can enjoy your time with friends. No one was ever turned away from that house on Glassco, the door swung open at all hours and even though I was a kid, I knew my parents were constantly helping those who needed it.

Still cute together and always up for an adventure

Occasionally and with great anticipation, we would go away for a vacation. I can't even begin to imagine the logistics of packing 4 kids, sometimes a dog and all their perceived needs into a car and either going camping or in later years to my Aunt Jennette's cottage in Wasaga Beach. These trips were extra special because it meant that Dad didn't have to work and we could spend some time with him away from the stress of his job. Like most kids whose mother stayed home and father worked, I didn't understand how hard they both worked and it is only with the wisdom of age that I see what they did. A vacation for us kids meant beaches, swimming and other sunny adventures. For my mom, it meant taking care of the 5 of us in another place with more dirt and less amenities. But we never knew or felt that. She always smiled and made sure we were taken care of first. I don't think she ate a hot meal for most of our trips and always put our enjoyment first. It was selfless then and I can't help but marvel at how we never knew she was working so hard to make our lives so much fun. 

Dad always manned the BBQ and of course the Pie - Irons (essentially a cast iron sandwich maker that you use in the hot coals of the fire). Perhaps a beer in hand, he loved to grill up whatever mom had brought and if you were lucky, he'd let you have a little taste of what was cooking. I know now how hard he worked to provide us with everything we needed and the skills he taught me have made me the man I am today. While I inherited his quick temper, I also heeded his wisdom on how to contain it. We were always the focus of his attention, the jokes, stories and he was an involved presence at everything we did. Being a father in the late 70's and early 80's was far different than it is now and his very attentive and sympathetic way of listening and offering advice was years ahead of its time.Our later conflicts brought on more by our similarities than our differences, but the bond forged in my childhood never let me doubt his love.

The boys are forever best friends.
We may not see each other often, but the love is always there.

 All of these memories come from that warm place inside my heart. I can feel the love I was given and the safe embrace of home still resonates today. The things we did as a family and the happiness it created are what saved me when I was at my lowest years later. I always joke that any mistakes I made in life are no ones fault but my own because I had such an easy going childhood and a set of parents who supported me even when I didn't deserve it. All of this happened in a simple house, on a suburban street with two people who gave everything they had to make sure their kids grew up with a sense of family and joy at being part of something bigger than yourself.

Thank you Mom and Dad for always making us your priority, then and now.

 Your dedication to your family is a big part of why I smile when I think back to those days on Glassco and the glory of my youth.

 

The family has grown and the love has multiplied.