You already know how to carry weight. You've been doing it for years, maybe decades. That's not the problem this post is about. The problem is what carrying it well has taught you to hide.

When I sat down with Andy Grant, host of the Real Men Feel Podcast, I asked him about masks men wear without realizing it. He didn't hesitate.

"The most common mask I see and that I wore for a long time is I'm fine."

Think about how much work that phrase can be doing. Don't ask. I can handle it. This is mine to carry. Needing you would make me weak. Whatever I'm feeling is irrelevant because I still have responsibilities.

Here's what I want you to know: none of that makes you weak. It makes you fluent in a language you were taught early, and taught well.

Where competence turns into camouflage

Andy places the start of his own path at nineteen, by his own account, after surviving multiple suicide attempts and years of depression he didn't know how to name. What eventually reached him wasn't a lecture. It was a quieter idea: that his story, shared honestly, might be worth something.

That idea reshaped how he works with men now. And it points to something worth sitting with in your own life.

The problem isn't that men learn strength. It's that we can learn such a narrow definition of strength that everything else—fear, tenderness, uncertainty, loneliness, need—gets treated as evidence that we're doing masculinity wrong.

That's the trap: Not the strength itself, but the narrowness of what's allowed to count as strength.

Permission is the missing piece, not effort

Andy told me about speaking to a military audience, sharing his story, and crying while he did it. Afterward, soldiers who had been under fire, who had defused bombs, told him he was the bravest man they'd ever seen, because he let them see it happen.

That should tell you something about what we've gotten backward. We've defined bravery as doing the frightening thing without appearing frightened. But real bravery requires the fear to be visible. Vulnerability requires actual risk: here's what's happening with me, I don't know how you'll respond, and I'm telling you anyway.

You don't need permission from anyone else to feel what you're already feeling. You need permission from yourself to stop pretending you don't.

What "fine" is actually protecting you from

Andy doesn't think our burdens are ours alone to carry. Trying to be self-sufficient doesn't just make things harder, he said. It disconnects you from the thing you actually need, which is other people.

"Not can," he told me. "It does."

There's a distinction worth calling out here. Most men know how to provide support, by leading a team, solving a problem, being the reliable one, coaching someone else through a hard season. Receiving support is a completely different skill, and it's the one nobody taught us.

Being needed can feel masculine. Needing someone can feel dangerous.

And that gap has to close, because the alternative is a slow kind of isolation dressed up as self-sufficiency.

Start smaller than you think you need to

Andy recommends practices that sound almost too simple: writing down three things you're grateful for, three deep breaths, holding your own gaze in a mirror and saying something kind. He admits the mirror exercise made him angry the first time he tried it. It brought home how little love he had for himself.

Anything unfamiliar feels strange before it feels natural. If three items of gratitude feel hard to find, that's not proof the exercise is silly. It might be evidence you've found a part of yourself that hasn't had company in a while.

Where this leaves you

Maybe the opposite of "I'm fine" isn't "I'm falling apart." Maybe it's something smaller and more honest: here's where I actually am. That single sentence gives you somewhere real to start.

You're not just the roles you fill. You didn't need convincing on that point. You needed permission to admit it.

What's the mask you find yourself reaching for most often, and what do you think it's protecting?

I'm Richard Taliaferro. I'm a certified career coach specializing in helping mid-stage professionals gain clarity on their career journey. My 90-Second SPARK diagnostic shows you where to focus first. Click here to take yours.

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