by 
I happened to see this response to the question about what’s difficult for a man on social media and I thought that I should post this letter here. I don’t know the man who wrote this however I did post on the site that I was going to post it here. I don’t often think about what a man holds in their hearts but this was a window into what some men, perhaps many men experience;
“I remember this one night when I was sitting at a bar with a group of friends. We were all laughing, trading stories, and just enjoying the evening. But then, the conversation took a turn, as it sometimes does when the night gets late and the drinks start flowing. One of the guys, who’s usually the loudest and most confident among us, suddenly got quiet. He stared at his drink for a moment, then muttered something about how exhausted he was—tired of always having to be the strong one, the one who holds everything together.
At first, we didn’t really know what to say. It was like he had cracked open a door to a room we all knew existed but never dared to enter. Then he went on, talking about the pressure he felt every single day—to be successful, to take care of his family, to never show weakness, to always have the answers. He said it felt like carrying a weight on his shoulders that just kept getting heavier, but he was expected to never let it show.
Another friend chimed in, saying how he felt like he couldn’t afford to fail—not at work, not in his relationship, not in anything. The fear of falling short was like this constant shadow, always lurking. But talking about it? That was a different story. Admitting that he was struggling felt like admitting defeat. He didn’t want to be seen as less of a man, so he kept it all to himself.
It struck me then how much pressure we’re under, how there’s this unspoken expectation that we’re supposed to be these unbreakable rocks. If you’re a man, you’re supposed to be strong, decisive, and in control at all times. Vulnerability? That’s seen as a flaw, something to hide away. We’re taught from a young age to “toughen up,” to not cry, to not show emotions other than anger, maybe. Because anger is acceptable; it’s “masculine.” But fear? Sadness? Doubt? Those get buried deep.
And that’s one of the hardest things about being a man—the loneliness that comes from feeling like you can’t truly be yourself, that you have to wear this mask of strength all the time. It’s like we’re all playing a role, but inside, there’s this unspoken struggle that we rarely talk about. The fear of being judged, of being seen as weak, keeps us from reaching out, from connecting on a deeper level.
Even in moments when you desperately want to let your guard down, something holds you back. It’s that voice in the back of your mind that says, “Don’t be a burden,” “Don’t let them see you sweat,” “You’ve got to be the one who holds it all together.” And so you push through, pretending that everything is fine, when in reality, you’re just trying to keep your head above water.
So, yeah, being a man comes with its perks, but it also comes with a heavy set of expectations that can feel suffocating at times. The pressure to be the provider, the protector, the one who never falters—it’s a lot to carry. And what sucks the most is that, too often, we feel like we have to carry it alone.”