Blog by Sholom-
I once saw a meme that said something like, “the strongest people find the courage and the caring to help others, even if they are going through their own storm.” And sure, there’s truth to that — for some men. But I’ve come to see another side of the story, one that speaks more deeply to my own experience.
For many of us, it’s actually easier to disappear into other people’s problems than to face our own. It can be a distraction, a way to avoid our own pain while appearing to be the “strong one.” But for men like me, the real act of courage isn’t in giving help — it’s in asking for it.
I grew up with a “strong as a bull” mentality. Handle your own business. Don’t show weakness. Asking for help was not an option. Not if I wanted to believe I was strong. I clung to that belief system like a safety blanket. It kept me from risking failure. It kept me isolated. I told myself I was self-sufficient, but in truth, I was hiding. I wore the mask of strength while living in fear of being seen as weak.
Then something shifted.
Men — good men — showed up for me even when I didn’t ask them to.
They saw me. They challenged me. They invited me into the center. Into the light and, with it, into the terrifying possibility of being known. Somewhere in that exposure, I found a surprising (and confusing) companion: vulnerability.
Not the polished kind. Not the trendy buzzword version. I mean the raw, uncomfortable, gut-wrenching act of letting others see my flaws, my struggles, my not-having-it-all-together. It was there , in that very place I had learned to fear, that I discovered real strength.
Yes, I still carry old wiring. The voice that says I should have it all together. The fear that needing help means I’m not enough or worse, failing. But that fear doesn’t run the show anymore. It doesn’t lock me in the way it once did. Now, I know that true strength, for me, is showing up as I really am. Not just the strong parts, but the scared parts, the overwhelmed parts, and the hurting parts too.
It has to be the right people
Of course, not every space is safe. Not every person can hold my vulnerability with care. But there are safe men. There are good men. Brothers who will walk with me not in spite of my flaws, but because of them. Others who might even love me more for being real.
Today, I’m proud to be walking this path, becoming one of those men. A man who can make room for others and who isn’t afraid to say, “Me too.” A man who offers a safe space not because he’s perfect, but because he’s willing to be human alongside other men.
To the men who continue to be that for me, thank you. Your courage has helped me find mine. And to those of you still on the journey — I see you. You’re not alone.