Men Hide

The Unspoken Truth About Why We Go It Alone

Men hide. A better way to say it is we retreat into our caves, solving problems and healing wounds alone. It’s a tendency, an instinct.

Last year, a close friend of mine was going through a painful divorce. I reached out consistently— at least every couple of weeks—never wanting anything, never trying to coach him, just letting him know I was there. And, as I expected, he didn’t respond.

I’ve had countless men vanish over the years. They’ll engage in a conversation, maybe even entertain the idea of coaching, but the moment it gets real—when we touch on what’s happening inside—they disappear. It used to bother me. I used to take it personally. Now, I see it as part of the phenomenon and how we operate as men.

The Illogical Logic of Avoiding Help

I once had a man book a coaching session with me. He even followed through and scheduled time. Then, right before the call, he canceled. His reasoning? Something else came up. Except what came up had nothing to do with our scheduled time. It was an excuse. He wasn’t ready, or willing, to face himself in that moment.

It’s like breaking your arm and deciding to wait until it heals before seeing a doctor.

I don’t judge it. I don’t make anyone wrong for it. I’m just fascinated by why we, as men, have this deeply ingrained belief that we must go it alone.

The Operating System of Manhood

Underneath it all, there’s a set of rules running in the background. Rules like:

- It’s up to me.

- Nobody’s coming.

- I have to do it myself.

- It has to be hard.

From that mindset, rejecting help—whether politely or outright—isn’t just a choice; it’s the logical response. Help isn’t seen as valuable. Struggle is. So we tell ourselves, I’ll reach out when things settle down, as if waiting will make it easier.

I know this because I’ve lived it.

When I was going through some of the hardest times in my life—business failing, marriage ending, bankruptcy looming—I didn’t want help. I didn’t believe it was possible. I didn’t think anyone could help me.

The Moment I Saw My Pattern

I don’t share this story often, but I wasn’t there to be coached when I first hired a coach. I pretended to engage, but I was trying to figure out what he was doing so I could do it myself.

I wanted to learn his techniques and not be vulnerable to them. It was another version of going it alone.

When I went to work with Rich Litvin - the first human I paid $120,000 to coach for a year - I had an epiphany about a month in. I came clean and shared with him: "I realize I've never intended to have you coach me." I saw myself running the same play - here's somebody who knows what's going on; they've got something I don't have, but I'm not really there to be coached. I'm here to see how he does what he does.

And to his credit, he held firm. He was an immovable object to my unstoppable force, and something cracked open in me. That moment changed everything. It forced me to confront the deeply embedded belief that nobody could help me. And for the first time, I was actually coachable.

The Root of the Problem

Why does this occur? The best answer I have is: it was never modeled for us.

I was a son of a single mom, with a wonderful father who I never saw cry until the funeral of his second wife - after about 45 years - and even then, it was brief. Never saw emotion. Never saw him seek anyone's counsel. Never heard him say, "I don't know what to do."

Our model of being a man is to be a fortress - impenetrable, a bolt. Keep it in. Have it under control. You don't need to share. The idea of my dad going to a men's group and talking about his feelings? Can't imagine it. It doesn't make him a lousy father or any less of a man. It's just not how it was done.

Breaking the Cycle

Is this what we want for our sons? Is this what we want for our children?

I've done my best to model something different. Vulnerability is a word I've got mixed feelings about. To me, it's just being honest about what is and being open to experiencing everything about life.

Every day I still come across areas in my life where I see myself withholding, where I see the need to know, to have it all figured out, to have the plan, to not need help or support. I still work through those thoughts and that thinking daily.

That's my journey, and that's something I'm committed to.

That programming runs deep.

I can't judge those who haven't woken up to the cost of what they're doing. Maybe there's no cost. Maybe their life wouldn't be any better. But I think it would. How can I not? That's why I do this coaching thing.

I believe there is more peace, more freedom, and more connection on the other side of revealing these legacy ways of being; these legacy operating systems are just inviable rules for how we must operate.

Everyone's on their own adventure. Everyone's doing the best they can with what they see and the thinking that's real to them. So I'll be patient. I'll be persistent. That's the best I can do.

When someone's ready, they're ready.

And if they're not, that's okay, too.