Men — it’s time again to grow a mustache for your fellow man’s health: Movember 2024 has arrived!

City Dads Group and Fathering Together are joining forces with two other fatherhood organizations in November 2024 to form a “No Dad Alone” team to participate in Movember, a fund- and awareness-raising campaign to spark conversations about men’s physical and mental health issues.

Movember challenges dudes every November to grow a mustache that will serve as a living awareness ribbon and talking point for the cause. The funds raised during the campaign go for research into and public education on issues such as testicular cancer, prostate cancer, mental health and suicide.

The event is annually run by The Movember Foundation, a leading global organization that brings awareness to serious health concerns for men. It has raised hundreds of millions of dollars since its founding in 2003 to help fund hundreds of health projects globally, according to its website. The organization’s work hopes to counter some of these frightening statistics regarding men’s health:

• Testicular cancer is the most common cancer diagnosed in men ages 18 to 39.
• Men, on average, die five years earlier than women in the United States.
• One in eight men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer during their lives.
• Four of every five suicides are men.

* Join our Movember 2024 #NoDadsAlone team! *

Movember 2024 finds City Dads and its partner, Fathering Together, teaming with The National At-Home Dad Network and Fathers Eve. In June, the groups agreed to join forces as part of a “No Dad Alone” campaign to amplify each other’s messages to help fathers recognize they have help and support in their parenting work.

City Dads has teamed with fatherhood organizations for Movember since 2011, helping to raise more than $135,000 for the cause.

You can help our Movember 2024 team and the cause in several ways:

• Join our Movember City Dads/Fathering Together team. Sign up at our fundraising page. You’ll get a personal fundraising page to link others to.
• Grow a mustache. Shave your face on Oct. 31 and then don’t cut the fuzz off your upper lip for 31 days. Show it off to all, in person and on social media, and tell them why you are growing it. Don’t forget to ask for a donation to help the cause and link to your fundraising page.
• Move rather than mo. Sometimes you can’t grow a mustache. Maybe it’s genetics, maybe it’s because it would jeopardize your marriage. You can still help by committing to walk or run 60 miles in November — one mile for each of the 60 men lost worldwide every hour to suicide. Again, use your personal Movember Dads page for fundraising.
• Host a Mo-ment. Get with your Movember supporters — in person or virtually — for a game night, a sporting event or maybe an initial “shave off” to get the ball rolling and draw attention to the cause.
• Donate. At the least, you can always simply give to the cause. Donate to an individual or our Movember #NoDadsAlone team as a whole.

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Those words from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt served as an encouraging rallying cry for Americans navigating the Great Depression. But to an 8-year-old who got pegged in the helmet by a “fastball” in his first at-bat of the new recreational baseball season, they mean nothing.

Sports bring out the best and worst in us, whether we’re fans watching our favorite team (go Knicks!) or participants on our church softball team. That’s a lot for parents to handle because much of our life seems to revolve around watching our children play sports, organized or otherwise, as soon as they can walk. For example, all three of my kids play on rec teams. This means two games a week for each child. Then add on one of two practices — again, for EACH CHILD. Then add that to all three kids’ other extracurricular activities. It is, to put it mildly, a busy life. For me.

This brings me back to FDR’s quote about fear. 

When I checked on my son, Jackson, after he got hit with that pitch, I could see his desire to play baseball had left him at that very moment. It was a brand-new experience for him. Two years ago he hit off a tee in games. Last year was coach pitch, so fathers lobbed slow pitches he could crush to the outfield. He had always been one of the best players on his teams up until that fateful at-bat. I loved watching him play and believed he could be a special player for many years. 

But after taking that less-than-fast one on the helmet, even though was OK physically, he was not OK emotionally. His not wanting to play for the rest of the game hit me in a way I was not expecting.

It got worse after the game. That’s when Jackson told me he didn’t want to play baseball anymore.

I was mad.

‘Fun’ comes first in ‘fundamentals’

Something felt like it was taken away from ME. I had spent time getting him ready, taking him to practice, doing pitching drills, and many other things to prepare him for another great season. The moment became about me, my time and my feelings rather than about my son and his state of mind.

Baseball soon became a struggle between the two of us. Two games later into the season, Jackson was still apprehensive about playing. I would spend an hour getting him dressed for games and practices. We’d argue the entire time about why he had — NEEDED — to go and couldn’t just not show. I was getting frustrated and so was he. I could see he was getting further and further from wanting to pick up a bat again.

Then, one day before practice, I was talking with another dad who coaches the team.  He didn’t blame Jackson for not wanting to play. He even admitted he would be scared to get back into the batter’s box after an experience like that too. While Jackson warmed up with his teammates in the outfield, the dad reminded me of a simple fact.

“They’re only 8,” he said. “This should be about learning the fundamentals of baseball but also having fun. If they aren’t having fun, then why are they doing it?”

That’s when I realized my duty as a father was not only to provide for my family. It was also my duty to listen to them. I wasn’t listening to Jackson about his genuine fear of getting hit by the ball, a fear anyone might have. It is no different than being afraid to get behind the wheel of a car after a traffic accident. Trauma affects everyone differently, and as parents, we must learn to recognize it in our children and address it.

With youth sports, we parents sometimes get caught up in the fantasy. We hear about all the benefits beyond physical health — friendship, teamwork, discipline, etc. — and expect results on Day One. Often it becomes about our kids living the athletic dreams we wanted to come true for ourselves. Maybe we even indulge in thoughts about the riches (or at least the college scholarships) it provides only a select few. We make it about ourselves and think our kids should tough it out. 

Youth sports parents: Listen, learn, enjoy

But these are just children. Some just want to hang with their friends, sing a few fun and clever rallying cries, and then get a hot dog and slushy from the snack stand after the game. Youth sports parents must remember to frequently ask their kids one very simple question, “Are you having fun?”

If you know they are having fun, it makes the long road trips, the late-night games, and the rain-soaked practices worth it. If your kid is not having fun, then you as a parent are definitely not having fun. So what’s the point?

As parents, we want our children to be active, but we must have the wisdom to step in when necessary be it youth sports or violin lessons. We should not let them become overscheduled. We need to be sure they are having fun while building healthy relationships and habits they will carry off the field.

As of this writing, Jackson is halfway through the season. He still isn’t swinging the bat much, but he is playing and his confidence appears to be returning. I make sure before every game to tell him the coaches and the other sports parents are there to ensure he has fun while prioritizing that he doesn’t get hurt. I remind him that getting hit is a part of the game of baseball, but it doesn’t happen very often. And I tell him after every game that I am proud of him getting back out there and facing his fear. 

When I see him out there making plays, catching a fly ball or two, I remind him of all he would have missed if had let his fear keep him from playing baseball. However, I let the coaches do their jobs and coach. Sometimes hearing things, especially instructions, from an authority figure who is not your parent, gets through to a child better.

So if this turns out to be his last season of baseball at the ripe old age of 8 going on 9, I am OK with that. If he’s not having fun playing a game, then why should he? He will have plenty of time to do “not fun” things when he is an adult. 

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Photo by Ben Hershey on Unsplash.

Three leading fatherhood organizations are undertaking a yearlong “No Dad Alone” campaign to help more fathers find support and an understanding community.

Fathering Together, of which City Dads Group is a part, The National At-Home Dad Network and Fathers Eve will cross-promote each other’s work to amplify information, resources and events available to dads through each entity. The groups plan to use their organizations’ platforms, including social media, newsletters, blogs and podcasts. The three organizations combined have more than 180,000 followers on various popular social media channels.

“The No Dad Alone campaign aims to address the ever-growing stats surrounding men’s health, specifically, the negative stigmas and untrue portrayals of fathers in the home and beyond,” said Cordan James, executive director of Fathering Together. “The web of resources this collaborative provides will instantly increase the positive impacts of fathers. It will also give people language to address, engage and support fathers in need and elevate the spirit of fatherhood.”

No Dad Alone arose, in part, from increasing U.S. media attention to male loneliness, particularly among fathers. Societal pressures about maintaining traditional masculinity (for example, remaining strong, stoic and independent in difficult times) and fewer resources and attention devoted to helping dads as opposed to moms contribute to these issues.

“Fathers are often isolated and they are not always sure what to do or how to alleviate it,” said John Francis, a co-organizer of the Twin Cities Dad Group and founder of Fathers Eve. “I think this campaign brings awareness to an important issue many guys have trouble with.”

Keith Nagel, president of The National At-Home Dad Network, said, “By highlighting and showcasing each of our organizations’ great work, we can create and build a much larger network of support for all our dads than we could individually. We hope to make other dads aware of our support offerings while connecting our members with ones we don’t provide.”

The ambitious campaign, using the social media hashtag #NoDadAlone, starts Father’s Day weekend 2024 to the following one in 2025. A key kickoff and celebratory ending point will be the annual Fathers Eve celebrations those weekends.

“From my work in the fatherhood area for the last dozen or so years, I see lots of people and groups doing good things to try to help their audience or their local market, but I don’t see a lot of connectivity,” Francis said. “They’re great guys all doing good work. When we work together I know we will make a much larger impact on this important issue.”

About the No Dad Alone organizers

Each organization involved in No Dad Alone has embarked on similar, though separate, missions to provide support and community to dads. At various times, each has worked with the other on a campaign or event.

The National At-Home Dad Network was established in 2003, initially under the name Daddyshome Inc. The first national nonprofit for at-home dads, it focuses on advocacy, education and support for families with fathers as primary caregivers. The network offers a variety of online communities, webinars and virtual opportunities to connect throughout the year. Its annual conference for at-home fathers, HomeDadCon, marks its 28th year this October with a three-day event in St. Louis.

Since 2012, Fathers Eve has gathered groups of dads — formally or informally in public or private spaces — the night before Father’s Day to celebrate each other and the joys and challenges of fatherhood. The event, held in dozens of U.S. towns and cities, lets dads offer support to each other and help foster a positive fathering environment. It culminates in a toast, in person and online, at 8 p.m. local time in each U.S. time zone.

Fathering Together started with the “Dads with Daughters” Facebook group in 2018. It quickly grew to have more than 125,000 followers supporting each other’s efforts to be great fathers. In 2020, the founders created the current nonprofit. It offers Facebook communities, a podcast, and a variety of webinars and resources supporting dads.

City Dads Group began in 2008 as a playgroup for at-home dads and their children in New York City. It now consists of groups of fathers who meet, with and without their kids, in 40 cities across the United States and one in Canada. City Dads Group merged with Fathering Together in 2023.

In one of the many memorable scenes in John Hughes’ movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Ferris, his girlfriend Sloane, and best friend Cameron join a group of young children looking at the masterpieces in the Art Institute of Chicago. At one point, the very melancholy and anxious Cameron becomes captivated by Georges Seurat’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.” 

The more he stares at the painting, the more the little girl at the center of the piece seems to stare back at him. Cameron zooms in on her to the point where she soon becomes a bunch of undefined splotches of paint. Maybe, in this moment, Cameron sees himself: a muddle of paint with no real beginning or end. Maybe he isn’t sure what he is looking at. Perhaps he’s lost in his thoughts about where he is in life and what his life will become.

I think we have all had encounters like this in a museum with a particular piece. This happened to me recently when our family visited the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York City to view an amazing gallery by Henry Taylor, a black California-based artist known for portraits depicting a variety of scenes from black life using mixed media.

One piece that caught my eye was Screaming Head. It is an acrylic painting of a black man sitting on a bench. His hands are clenched behind his head but somehow he is screaming out of the top of his head. Like his brain is screaming out because his mouth cannot. Or maybe this particular man feels like crying out but doesn’t want to because social norms dictate he has to be strong and keep it bottled up inside. Maybe he doesn’t have the freedom to say what is really on his mind. It felt like it was speaking to me.

I believe men often suffer in silence when it comes to issues we face. We want to stick to the old-school machismo: men don’t cry, men don’t complain, men aren’t supposed to be anything that makes us less of a man. We aren’t often given room to just scream out when facing any number of obstacles life throws our way. Not having that release valve can often lead to tragic results.  

But I believe we need room to scream. 

Men need room to cry. 

We also need a shoulder to lean on when life seems overwhelming. 

If we can be allowed to release our frustration and anger in a constructive and healthy way, we can be better men, fathers, brothers and leaders.

But how?

It means taking time for self-care. Like going to a movie by yourself or spending a few hours on a hobby. Maybe it’s eating some takeout from your favorite fast-food restaurant in your car without having to share your fries. Or maybe, it’s asking your partner to take the kids to school so you get an extra hour of sleep.

Sometimes just posting anonymously in a Facebook group of other dads who understand your strains and stresses can become your safe space. Letting others know you feel alone helps you realize an important fact: you are not alone. Someone out there is dealing with loss, with bills, with children who don’t want to listen, and so on.   

Whatever your outlet for self-care is, it doesn’t mean abandoning your duties. It means taking a break from them for a little bit to get our heads straight. This is no different from moms giving themselves spa days or a night out with the girls.

As for me, in these last few years, I have transitioned. I’ve become less of a stay-at-home dad by taking on other roles. Being a father isn’t all that defines me anymore. I am also an author, a teacher, a husband, a friend, a son, a son-in-law, a heck of a cook and so much more. 

I am defined, but the definition of me is always changing and I truly believe the same can be said about you.­

You are defined. 

You have depth and emotion. 

You are loved.

Even if you feel like you don’t see it, know that others see it in you.

And never let yourself get to the point of feeling like an undefined muddle of paint splotches on a canvas. And like the Henry Taylor painting, don’t keep your screams bottled up because that can often lead to an explosive result.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio via Pexels.

Let’s admit it: Most of us hate going to the doctor. In fact, parenting and self-care are often at odds.

This is especially true in the chaotic early years when all parents struggle to find time to use the bathroom in peace much less exercise, see friends, and visit the doctor. Mothers in our culture are frequently reminded to practice self-care, but I’m here to urge increasingly involved fathers to do the same.

Though dads tend to feel less guilty than moms about taking time for themselves, one particular area of self-care we need to improve on is seeing a doctor.

A 2016 Cleveland Clinic survey found only three in five men, ages 18 to 70, get an annual physical. A little more than 40 percent go to the doctor only when they fear they have a serious medical condition. Those are some frightening numbers.

I can speak to the stereotype of men avoiding doctors from personal experience. I was one of those “I hate to go to the doctor” guys, too. But several years ago, I told my wife half-jokingly: “I’m either in the best shape of my life, or I’m dying.” I had finally been working out again, and I was excited to be losing weight. Freshly 40, I had spent nine long years as a stay-at-home dad, so it was thrilling to return to some “me” time.

But then I kept losing weight.

The self-care stumble 

Over three months I lost 15 pounds. Also, I began to notice frequent stomach aches, often followed by diarrhea. I started to worry. Admittedly, as a guy with a hate for going to the doctor, it probably took me longer than the average human to notice these rather dramatic changes.

Then came the kicker.

I was in the yard and bent over to pick up a rake. On my way up, I got dizzy and nearly fell over. Finally, I knew this was more than just “how 40 feels.”

I saw a gastroenterologist who performed a blood test and biopsy before pronouncing the verdict: celiac disease. His nutritionist explained celiac disease is a genetic intolerance of gluten, a protein found in wheat, rye, barley and other related grains. Gluten damages the villi in a celiac’s small intestines, which leads to malnourishment and a variety of symptoms — e.g. diarrhea, weight loss, fatigue, migraines and depression among others. Symptoms can appear anytime during a celiac’s life.

What I remember most was the nutritionist’s statement, “It’s not that bad. Just avoid things like beer, bread and pasta.”

What?

For an Irish boy married to an Italian girl, she just eliminated 80 % of my diet! Immediately, I visualized an atlas of my past culinary pleasures I would never be able to revisit: the Buffalo chicken wing, the Philadelphia cheese steak, the Chicago deep-dish pizza.

Many with celiac disease never get diagnosed

But after researching the disease and the growing dietary options, I realized I was lucky this was my only problem. My good fortune was soon reinforced at my new hangout, the health food store.

When I mentioned I had just been diagnosed with celiac disease, an acquaintance asked, “Oh, does your whole life make sense to you now?” I nearly got dizzy and fell over. What? No, I thought. Now my life makes no sense. My whole life was going just fine!

But I learned she knew people whose lifelong health problems were cured after they were diagnosed with celiac disease. So then I felt grateful for 40 years of reveling in gluten. (Specifically, no beer in college would have been tough to swallow.) So if any unexplained symptoms apply to you, consider asking your doctor about celiac disease since many people go undiagnosed.

Now that I’m gluten-free, I’ve regained a few pounds and feel healthy. It’s also nice to fit back into my pre-stay-at-home dad clothes. However, you know you’ve been a stay-at-home dad too long when you put on a button-down shirt and your daughter asks, “Dad, why are you dressed all fancy?”

After my health scare, I consider such a moment a little reward for going to the doctor.

Editor’s Note: This article about men’s health and the fear of going to the doctor was originally published in 2017. Photo: “Doctor greeting patient” by Vic, licensed under CC BY 2.0)

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our archives for great articles you might have missed over the years. This article about male depression and suicide comes from 2013.

Men shouldn’t need help.

This is part of an unwritten code and a shameful hypocrisy of our culture.

We lie to ourselves and say we are “fine” when we are not because we have been told since childhood that men must be strong and stoic. Crying, let alone asking, for help is not masculine. So we tell ourselves and each other: “Man up!”

However, when men suffer in private and take their own lives, they – like anyone else – leave loved ones behind to mourn. They harm more than themselves; they hurt those who love them the most.

My male clients usually end up in my office only after they realize they have hit rock bottom. These are the truly fortunate ones whose inner voices yelled loud and long enough to enable them to go against the code; breaking the rule. This realization shows real strength.

Male depression, like any depression, is a state of mind where we feel we are failing. We blame ourselves for our failure, and we believe what we think. As a result, we find ourselves constantly following negative thoughts, repeating our negative mantras like an internal iTunes playlist. We ignore our friends’ and/or family’s warnings or pleas; blind to the exaggeration inherent in our negative thoughts. We now become angry.

Anger can be deafening. It oppresses and creates an isolation that leads us to crave an escape route. Some seek this getaway from our internal negative chatter through various regimens of immersion: in the Internet, the news, the latest reality show/situation comedy, alcohol, drugs, etc.

The relief, though, is often false and fleeting.

Know the signs of male depression

Each time these negative thoughts return, they intensify. Yet we continue to tell anyone who asks that we are ‘fine’ when we feel ‘like shit’ because that has been drilled into our concept of “manliness” since we were young. If we continue to walk down this negative and self-critical path, our destination will be intensively negative and self-critical. We arrive at blackness, at nowhere. This is when we will believe that we have nothing to live for.

When someone takes his life, it is because he has a plan, the means, and the energy. Most attempts that fail are cries for help. You will know that you are approaching or have reached this breaking point; the point where you need to ask for help, when you experience any combination of the following:

• helplessness
• hopelessness
• sleep problems
• poor appetite
• poor self-care habitats
• inability to communicate with the people you love
• any pattern of substance abuse

This is not an exhaustive list, but a list of indicators that you have reached the limit of your private suffering. Remember that suffering is always temporary but only alleviated by transforming it into a path of self-acceptance.

There is no shame in surviving male depression, and only through connection can we survive. If you are becoming concerned – about yourself or someone else – take stock, reach out, speak out, and make that life-saving connection.

Editor’s Note: If you are having a mental health crisis, feel suicidal, or believe a loved one is, call or text 988 to get in touch with the National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

About the author

Alex Stadler is a licensed clinical social worker, a mindfulness-based cognitive behavioral therapist in private practice, and a mental health consultant to numerous NYC human services agencies.

Male depression photo: © Monkey Business / Adobe Stock.

If I’ve learned anything during my fatherhood journey thus far, I’ve learned that parenting is a 24-7 job.

There’s literally always something going on. The free time we once enjoyed as single, childless men is long gone. From the newborn stage where all your attention is focused on figuring out how to keep this little person alive through the early school years where calendars are filled with extracurricular activities, and on to the teenage years when you’re helping guide your children into young adulthood, fatherhood is a never-ending cycle of being here, there, and everywhere for the sake of your kids.

While stressful, tiresome, and thankless, it’s what we signed up for. It’s a calling. A responsibility for us as fathers to be active and involved every step of the way. 

With that, however, we have to be sure we’re taking time for ourselves. Fathers have to prioritize mental and physical health so we can be the best version of ourselves possible for our children, especially as we age. For those of us fortunate enough to be in healthy marriages, relationships, and partnerships with the mothers of our children, it can’t go without saying how beneficial it is to have someone by your side to help share the load of parenting, because it gets heavy. 

Even so, as men, we are wired to be “strong,” to not show any signs of weakness. No matter what we’re carrying internally, there’s no time for that. After all, we have to get the kids ready for school, for bed, and everything in between. That’s the priority. It has to get done, right? But at what expense?

Make self-care a priority in parenting

I’d like to think I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. I work out regularly. Every now and then, I’m able to hang out with the guys and enjoy some time away from the kids. But, if I’m being honest, dad burnout smacks me in the face often. And when it does, it tends to simply stay there.

For me, it comes as a result of being in a constant state of “doing.” I pride myself on being an active father – coaching soccer, taking my son to swim class, picking my daughter up from daycare, and being available whenever my wife needs me. And not to mention the day-to-day household responsibilities of a husband and father. The “go go go” mentality I and other dads have is, yes, what we’re supposed to do. But it’s also a recipe for fatigue.

Simply put, at times I find myself stretched thin. And no dad wants to feel that. Even with the most routine challenges of fatherhood, we shouldn’t have our overall well-being put at risk. In looking for a healthy balance, we have to be sure we’re being intentional in carving out time for us. That may mean altering our schedule to fit in a walk during the day. Find a dad tribe to have a space to talk openly and honestly about your experiences. The connections made through other dads will help you realize that you’re not the only one going through it. We can be there for each other.

Most importantly, we have to be open with our partners. Just as we need moms to be open with us when they need a break, we as dads need to be vulnerable enough to say we need a break, even for a few hours. 

We have to be there for ourselves so we can be there for our kids.

Caring for yourself photo: © Antonioguillem / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: If you are having a mental health crisis, call or text 988 to get in touch with the National Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

I’m a big fan of the 2000s TV show Gilmore Girls, a show about as manly as the title suggests. It follows a single mother and her daughter living in a small Connecticut town. In this town, there is a diner owner named Luke, a surly guy who seems angry about everything and annoyed by everyone. We eventually learn he is a big softy. His gruff outer demeanor is a façade to protect himself from a world constantly threatening to hurt him. Basically, he’s my spirit animal.

In the Gilmore Girls episode, “But Not as Cute as Pushkin” (season 5, episode 10), Luke has a “dark day.” Once a year, Luke disappears. He flees town. He is cryptic as to why he behaves this way. No one knows where he goes, but everyone in town knows about Luke’s Dark Day (except his girlfriend, which is ridiculous, but never mind). This is an accepted part of Luke’s existence. Without dropping any spoilers (18 years later), Luke uses this day to go off and feel his feelings.

Recently, without me being fully aware of what was happening, my well-managed (or ignored?) feelings had begun to break free from my toxically masculine bulwark of denial. The week prior, I had slowly become a bit of an asshole. Everything made me grumpy. I was short with everyone. I had no patience for my children, and as a stay-at-home dad, I let my daily chores slip. The house was a mess, our diet was garbage, and everything was off.

All because I was resisting my own Dark Day.

Death, aging leads to depression

I know the main source of my emotional descent. About a year ago, my brother died. My relationship with him was complicated. His passing, while not shocking, hit me far harder than I had anticipated. As the anniversary of his death approached, those feelings came back. All the good. All the bad. I thought I was finished with the pain and trauma, but grief is an insatiable ambush predator.

A few months before the anniversary of my brother’s passing, I visited my parents. They both have serious health issues and live in a nursing home several states away. My dad’s mind is slipping away. Talking with him was tricky, and the view of his diminished body was particularly traumatic. My mom’s mind remains sharp, but she can no longer walk and has lost use of most of her limbs. The nursing home, while seemingly filled with nice people, is gloomy and old. The environment is sad, and so is seeing my parents in that place, but with their increasingly complicated medical requirements, there’s not much else we can do.

After I had spent the day with my parents, my wife asked how I was doing.

I replied earnestly and honestly, “I can’t really deal with it right now. I’ll feel my feelings when we get home.” We were in the middle of a family vacation, and I couldn’t really afford an emotional breakdown. I genuinely had every intention of dealing with the feelings when I got home. I’d cry it out in the shower. That’s what we all do, right?

I could list all the things that happened when we got home. All the excuses to keep avoiding my feelings. I promise I had some good ones. In fact, I deleted a very self-indulgent list from my rough draft. But the reasons don’t matter. I have mine. Other dads will have theirs. There’s always an excuse. Instead, I let my depression and darkness seep out slowly and cloud our home for weeks.

Healthy, right?

When the fire passes, healing begins

Look, I’m not here as a writer because I have all the answers. I’m here because I’m willing to admit I’ve screwed up.

I should have gone from my parents’ place back to the hotel and told my wife I needed 20 minutes. Then, I could have collapsed on the shower floor and had a good cry. I would’ve felt better (secretly I don’t feel I deserve to feel better, but that’s a whole other story). I would’ve saved myself weeks of inner turmoil and spared my family weeks of torture.

It’s true most men want to be seen as strong. Emotions make us feel weak, but it’s weak to pretend to be strong when you’re not. It’s weak to hide from your feelings. If you need your Dark Day, go off and have a Dark Day. Have the strength to face your emotions. Let the emotional fires consume you, knowing that when the fire passes, healing begins.

Everyone reading this has something they aren’t dealing with. I’m the hypocrite typing this with a truckload of my own baggage, but I’ve been making a very real effort to feel the feelings when I need to feel them. I’d encourage you to do the same. Yeah, it sucks, but you’ll feel better, and it’s a really great way to justify an excessively long, hot shower.

Feel the feelings photo: © altanaka / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: Mental health issues are among the many things most people, men in particular, are reluctant to discuss. Former Boston Dads Group co-organizer James Mahaffey has no such fear. In this 2013 post from our archives, he writes frankly about the male postpartum depression he experienced following the birth of his daughter.

Once, possibly twice, during my first three months of parenthood, I found myself huddled in my home office, secretly and somewhat reluctantly shedding a tear in the dark. A very dignified and manly tear, that is. The kind that wells up and glosses over just the bottom half of the eye before stoically leaping like a cliff diver descending in a super quick, unquestionably deliberate, straight line down the cheek, never to be seen again.

This tear was brought on by a combination of things.

My newborn’s constant piercing screams.

The unexpected disagreements with her mother on what to do during those times.

My guilt for the occasional “bad” thought many parents have felt at some time but rarely admit.

I remember wondering if I was “depressed a little.” I had been feeling this way for longer than I cared to admit. It was a feeling I couldn’t seem to shake.

And, as a man, I didn’t necessarily know what to do except secretly cry in the dark.

It wasn’t until we were at the first post-birth checkup that I even thought about my manly tear incident again. Typically at this appointment, women fill out the Edinburgh Depression Scale to find out if they are experiencing “signs or symptoms associated with postpartum depression.” After reading the questions I started uncomfortably laughing. I began to feel like someone should be asking me the same questions.

I didn’t carry or give birth to a 7-pound human being. However, I have been there from day one and every day since our daughter was born. It’s not like the shrieks and cries of an inconsolable baby or the physically and emotionally draining late nights and resulting sleep deprivation were her mother’s to experience alone. I was up with her, helping out (and suffering just the same) as much as I could through all of those early tests of parenthood.

But maybe it wasn’t male postpartum depression I was experiencing. Maybe something else was going on inside of me. The first three months are one of those stages where I do believe certain mothers are better equipped than fathers to withstand the irritability of their newborn. CJ didn’t seem to be as emotionally affected as I was.

So when CJ was filling out the form, I made a column for myself next to her’s so I could also answer the questions. We went in and I, of course, made light of my little “cry for help” that manifested itself in the form of a drawn-in column on a post-partum questionnaire. She laughed a little, too. In fact, we all laughed and then we got back to focusing on CJ.

But should we have?

The issue is real. A 2010 study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association found that about 10 percent of fathers become depressed before or just after their baby is born. This is more than double the rate of depression in the general male population.

Men’s mental health is rarely discussed and is almost taboo in some scenarios. This is another reason why I grew a mustache in November to raise awareness and funds for the Movember movement. For two decades, the movement has raised funds and awareness to combat prostate and testicular cancer make people. In more recent years, Movember has added a special focus on mental health.

Please help others worse off than me. Raise awareness of paternal depression and keep an eye on your father friends, especially those with newborns. No dad needs to suffer in silence anymore.

About the author

After nearly being “shhh-ed” to death while his daughter napped, filmmaker James Mahaffey decided to vlog about his journey at “Becoming a Ninja: Freedom to Fatherhood,” where a version of this post originally appeared.

Male postpartum depression photo: © pololia / Adobe Stock.

I’m a bit of a pessimist. When I type that sentence, I’m at war with the feelings no one will ever read it, no editor will accept it and no writer will respect it. This defeatist inner monologue is annoying when trying to be creative, but it’s dangerous for a father of young children.

If I were to list all the reasons why I prefer my children to never leave my home, I’m confident I’d smash my word limit entirely too soon. As a parent, you don’t need me to detail the threats looming just outside the door. If the Netflix documentaries I torture myself with are a reflection of reality, for some kids, those threats come from within the home. Then there are the constant threats from strangers and people we trust, from foreign agents and domestic despots. How do any of us let the soft hands of our children slip our grip and find their own way?

Sometimes, I try to satisfy my parental anxiety by quoting statistics. The chance of anything really terrible happening to any one person, at any one time, is extremely low. I accept the truth of the math, but when I constantly feel like I’m white-knuckling a cross-wind landing with a couple of hundred other people, I’m not comforted. Nor am I comforted by the math when I’m kissing my kids goodbye. However small the chance may be, there is a chance I’ll never kiss them again.

I told you I was a pessimist.

Paralysis from parental anxiety costs your kids

I can always find a reason not to go to the zoo — and I love going to the zoo. Traffic is a chronic concern. What’s parking going to be like when we finally get there? We live in Florida, so it will be hot and uncomfortable and the kids will inevitably complain. We won’t stay nearly as long as I want, considering the effort it takes to mobilize our family of five. It’s too expensive to get in. It’s too expensive to purchase anything once inside. The place will be filled with annoying people. People who don’t watch where they’re walking. People who wear purposefully provocative, politically themed T-shirts just to see who might react. There will be rides for the kids, but the lines will be too long. Besides, when was the last time that ride has been serviced? How attentive is the bored teenager operating the controls? And you know what? That polar bear really, really looks eager to swallow a toddler.

A variation of the above paragraph flashes through my mind the instant my wife casually asks, “Hey, wanna’ go to the zoo today?” I often wonder what it’d be like to be normal, or at least open to the possibility that something good could happen.

These defeatist inner monologues are dangerous because the parental anxiety it arouses in me directly impacts my children.

Maybe they’d be signed up for dance, gymnastics or a team sport if I wasn’t so fearful of all the potential pitfalls.

What if the lessons they are missing out on about navigating the complex social dynamics of a team could allow them to be an effective leader when they’re older?

What if my parental anxiety keeps them from falling in love with the pursuit that could define their future?

The amount of untold damage my fears and worries could inflict upon my children is staggering. While I grudgingly accept I’ll likely screw them up somehow, I’d really love to not infect them with this oppressive mind virus that has haunted my entire existence.

Just go do it

If you’re not resonating with the above struggles, then use my words to help you see the silent struggles of many. If you resonate with my words, if this post about parental anxiety is giving you anxiety, then we are kindred spirits, and perhaps, with one sentence, I can help.

Just go do it. Whatever IT is, just go do it.

Listen, if that sentence came from someone who hasn’t been professionally diagnosed with chronic and crippling anxiety, you’d be right to reject it. The mantra of the ignorant is often to simplify the complex. But I have, so I’m offering you something different.

With that simple sentence above, I’m providing you the freedom you’ve craved, and a lifeline for your kids, who, whether able to articulate it or not, are desperate to experience more – more of everything.

The hard part about navigating complex mental health issues is that the solutions are often simple. So simple, they’re rejected. But just because a solution is simple doesn’t mean it’s easy. I know it’s hard to go do the thing. It was hard for me to admit I needed help. Hard for me to confess these feelings to my wife, and harder still to walk through the door of a licensed therapist for the first time. I just had to do it.

I’m not diminishing the effort. I’m not trying to make it sound easy. It’s not. But as dads, we have no choice. We have to go do it – whatever the “it” is for you. There’s no magic mantra. No special utterance. Appropriate pharmaceuticals are helpful for some, but they aren’t cures. They’re aids. You, yes you, have to do the work. You just have to go do it.

I’d like to say that over time my pessimism has been cured, but it hasn’t. I’ve accepted there is no cure for all this parental anxiety, but you know what? Things have gotten easier. It’s easier to get out of the door, to say yes to my kids when they want to try something. It’s easier to go to the zoo, and even easier to believe my children will return home safe after school. And as I overcome more and more obstacles, I get closer to believing tomorrow will be easier than yesterday.

Just kidding. I’m still pessimistic, and it’s all still hard. But I’m just going to go do it anyway, and so should you.

Photo: © PoppyPix / Adobe Stock.