What's it mean . . .

. . . to be a man?

Where did they come from, the rules defining what is a man? Maybe some men do not grow up learning the same rules, but I did and I see the results of those rules in so many men around me.

Writing this blog over the past, wow, almost a year, has often been difficult. How much can I reveal here? How can I express what is really going on instead of lounging in much more comfortable intellect? Is it now okay for me to be scared? No, not in my life nor in my own head nor within the "rules" of being a man. Only in recent years have I noticed another view of scared, "courage is being afraid and walking through it anyway". Still, expressing scared is a very awkward and uncommon act for me. As a boy and to some extent now, ridicule is the expected response. The "rule" for me seems summed up as, "A real man ain't scared of nothin'"

So what about sad? Much as my Dad received, at age 7 I received a backhand and admonishment that, "Boys don't cry!" I saw other boys ridiculed for crying when injured. "Men can stand pain!" So I didn't cry. Exceptions? Once at 16 when Grandma died. Blubbering drunk sobbing at my 1st divorce. Okay, so maybe a few tears rolled every 9 years, otherwise they were stuffed down inside as I tried to feel nothing. Drugs helped numb. I cried not one whit at my own father's funeral, instead plotting how to get in the restroom by myself to get numb.

Mad was not okay in my home growing up. The man of the house can get mad and show it in what I now know is rage. Throw, hit, belittle, cut with verbal blades. I hear today that anger is a natural human response to pain, but growing up I learned from those older than me to go from pain or fear into rage in a split second. But, only the top dog gets to do that. That's the rule, passed down from one generation to the next. Control your woman with fear and hitting. Tie thumbs together, hang over a door to hold the boy still for application of a board to the back. A few generations back, that was okay, but each ensuing generation of men in my tree was a little bit less violent. We all knew at some level it was wrong, but knew no other way to avoid showing some, according to the rules, sissy emotion. Coming down the tree to me, it was 1978, I remember it well when I used a backhand on 3 occasions, lashing out at my first wife. That is what I learned to do with mad - part of the rule book for being a man. I have never hit again, but I did use a lot of drugs as a plug on scared, sad, and anger.

Talking about any of what I am attempting to write herein, was just simply not done. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors, but the same goings on were apparently going on behind many doors. Stuff mad, sad, scared, intil the dam bursts in a fit of rage. Or the burst floods a pit of despair or depression. Our all too low self esteem is pounded into us by each other from what, age 4 or 5.

The rules:
1. Do not show fear.
2. Do not show sad.
3. Do not begin to be mad because that might lead to rage.
4. Do not speak well of yourself because that is conceit.
5. Do not speak well of another guy lest he get a "big head".
6. Discount any compliment.
7. Compare yourself to others, measuring less than or better than.
8. Judge yourself harshly but build yourself up by belittling others.

The rules seem to go on and on. I could add to the list and so could you. But I want to know, WHO WROTE THE RULES? How long have we been ruled as men by standards of perfection that can only result in failure. Every good job seems followed by a but . . .

Maybe that's just me. Maybe it's not just men.

Even with cancer, I have thoughts that I SHOULD be more spiritual, or eat better, or exercise more, or on and on and on . . . My sponsor shares with me about not talking bad to myself. Turns out I have been hard on myself for about 52 years (since age 4 or 5). I ask my sponsees, "How's that workin' for ya?" I must ask myself that same question everyday to help me steer into thinking and talking well about you and about me. I like experiencing me more concerned with being kind than with being right. I like to acting like I love instead of just saying it. I would like to ask myself, "Is what I am about to do going to divide us apart or bring us together?" I relish my progress away from being emotionally stunted toward showing what I feel. Cry when I am sad. At least say it to myself when I am in fear. I like becoming able to recognise and express anger directly but without malice. I like accepting that I progress and grow and learn and love, and arrive where I really have always been . . . hu-man. You too!
Bill