Monday, March 9, 2026

Masculinity Mondays: 16

 

Image shows a light-skinned person with dark hair faced away from the camera, with their head bowed, and a black-inked fern leaf design across their back and neck

Depression and masculinity.

Two things that are supposed to be mutually exclusive. Depression's PR campaign is stereotypically attractive, acceptably young, white women - beauty trapped in the cruelty of compassionless capitalism. Something gorgeous with the light drained out of her by this terrible curse.

Men who experience depression are told we're weak.
We're told we're "just making excuses."
We're told we're selfish.
We're told we're lazy.
We're told to "man up."
We're told to "get over it."

The option of having a lovely, affirming conversation with your manager about "needing a mental health break" is off the table for men - we're told that "everyone is stressed here."  We're reminded of how much our absence would affect the team.

I'm not talking off the cuff here; I've actually experienced this in every single job I've ever had when my mental health takes a dive - which is something I have to account for in my work, as it's part of living with schizophrenia; my brain doesn't co-operate with "Hey, let's just stay on the chill out track, and ignore all the negativity out there" (which is very much how I would prefer to be living my life); even if I keep myself away from all possible sources of concerning news, drama, whatever? My brain will just create that stuff out of literally nothing, and cause more problems than anyone wants to deal with.  

Part of this journey from Warrior to Magician is also learning how to handle not just my physical disabilities, but also my mental health.  That's a challenge for me, because my understanding of "rest" is "take a break from the work I'm paid for and work on stuff I might get paid for one day, or look for more options for work I'll definitely be paid for.  I am very literally restless;  I can't settle to "just doing nothing". That clashes quite badly with the fact that, on bad mental health days, I can't maintain focus - so, I end up task-jumping the day away, because I can't just do nothing, but I also can't focus on just one thing.

Going fully freelance is what I need  to do for my mental health and my physical disabilities, but it's also the worst of all possible world. Not knowing where the money's coming from isn't good for my mental health. Feeling that resting is just wasting an opportunity to find more revenue streams isn't good for either my mental or physical health.  

But the reality is that magic is ultimately creative energy, and creativity needs a lot of downtime. Growing up in a rural community, but being someone who does their best work in creative spaces, I often don't feel I've earned rest - I haven't been walking fields all day. I haven't been throwing hay bales around. I haven't been setting fences.  I haven't been out on a construction site. I haven't even been stacking supermarket shelves - I feel that I shouldn't need to rest.

One of the major steps - and stumbling blocks - on this journey for me is coming to genuinely know, on a guiltless, instinctual level, that rest is sacred.

And the problem is, that sounds too feminine, because women have rushed to claim sacredness - women are lapping up the idea that they are innately goddesses, so of course sacredness belongs to them, because they're goddesses, so who else would sacredness pertain to?

But sacredness pertains to gods, too.  If women are embracing their goddess energy, then men are gods, because for most of human history, spirituality placed a god and a goddess as equal partners in the spiritual landscape.

What does it mean to be a god? It means to hold space for the heartbreak, despair, and rage of those who believe in you.  It means to know what those who believe in you need, even when that doesn't seem to be what they want, and it means to know how to bring them to accept the thing they need when it isn't what they want. It means to do what is necessary even when it isn't popular. It means to be consistent even as belief in you and worship of you shifts, waxes and wanes.

You don't bring trivia to your god. If you can handle something yourself, you handle it yourself. You don't take the blessings from your god for granted - you are thankful to them. You don't cheap out your god - you give them the best of yourself, even if you can't make offerings of anything other than your time; you prioritise them  in the way you allocate your time. They are a commitment, not an afterthought.

It is not unreasonable for men to claim their godhood, and expect to be treated in these ways, just as it is not unreasonable for women to claim their goddesshood, and expect to be treated as such - but you need to understand that a god or a goddess isn't human. They don't have human concerns or human responsibilities.

Getting past the idea that having standards for how I'm treated, and how I treat myself, is entitlement and arrogance is going to be a challenge.  And accepting depression is going to be part of that element of this process - because learning to treat myself as though I am close to godhood in the way I respond to days like the past week, where  my mental health has been absolutely horrific,  is key to learning to be comfortable with rest, which is central to learning how to transition from Warrior to Magician.

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Masculinity Mondays: 18

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