Clayton - 21

“Man up”.

What does that mean - “Man up?” Am I just acting like a man? Pretending? If not that, then what is it? All I know is that this is something I should do. I’ve been told this all my life. I was taught that a man was someone who didn’t feel many emotions. Someone who was stoic and strong. Resilient and reliable. So, I tried to be like that. I pretended as best as I could. Needless to say, it didn’t make me feel any more like a man. In fact, it did the opposite. As a child, I was picked on quite a bit. I wasn’t strong by anyone’s definition. Definitely not stoic. In fact, I was very openly emotional and sensitive. I would get hurt easily. I cried a lot. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. That’s how it was at school. When I got home, feeling all those different emotions, I’d be lectured: “Why are you feeling sad? What is there to be sad about? Get over it.”

Being told not to feel things that you’re feeling is as helpful as you’d imagine. That is to say – not very. However, seeing as how it was coming from my dad or older siblings – I had to try. Their word was final. I tried, and it didn’t work. And so, the back and forth started. I would feel emotion, and then I’d tell myself to be a man, and move along. That didn’t work either. In the end, I still felt things. As I grew up, I found it difficult to accept my emotions. I tried my hardest to get away from them. To get away from what I saw as weakness. Yet, I still felt them. I couldn’t come to terms with myself. Was I born abnormal? Why couldn’t I just “man up” and stop being so emotional? Was there something wrong with me? I started to wonder if I’d ever really be a man.

Part of me wished that my emotions would mellow out as I grew. That I’d stop getting angry or crying. They didn’t, so I did my best to cover them up. It worked pretty well. I was lucky for a time, because there weren’t many things that could prompt strong emotions in me. I kept myself around predictable people and places, and I was able to cruise through my early teens as a content, albeit reserved, individual. I thought I could be in my safe bubble of comfort for the rest of my life. That comfort would come to an end in 2016, when I had my first encounter with death.

My friend had suddenly passed away in the night. I remember thinking this was a joke, until I saw my friend walking down from the counselor’s office in tears. I didn’t think it was a joke after that. The intense emotions and feelings that followed – it was like a whirlpool. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. Pain. I didn’t know what to do with it. I went from feeling very little, to feeling more than I could handle. I was completely overwhelmed. There was no hiding this time around. All I could do was contain it as best as I could, while giving away as little as possible. And so, my life ground to a halt. I became stuck in a state of quiet grief. I held everything in. All the while, I watched other people grieve. I watched them move on. I watched them return to what seemed like their normal selves. I wondered how they did it. I hadn’t gone anywhere, despite months having gone by. Why didn’t I feel better? I couldn’t figure it out. I tried to ask people, but they all gave me the same stuff: “Get over it.” “Be a man.” But I was already doing that. Without a new answer, all I had left was certainty of the feeling that I really was born different. That I was born with too many feelings.

I concluded that my feelings weren’t serving me, so I didn’t want them in my life anymore. They were no longer welcome. Not to my friends, not to my family, and not to me. I wouldn’t let others see the weakness I held within. They were my feelings, my burden. So, I hid. I hid from anything that would make me cry. Anything that could make me laugh, scream, or smile. I suppressed those urges. Eventually, I seemed to mellow out. It seemed like my feelings were completely lost to me. I didn’t smile genuine smiles. I didn’t get angry at people. I didn’t cry. I felt muted, and tired. Did I finally do it? Did I become a man? I wondered– why didn’t I feel any better than I did before?

I eventually came to learn the name of this feeling: depression. I was depressed. In my grief, I suppressed my feelings until they were inaccessible. My life became dull and gray. Monotonous. Hopeless. For seven long years, I lived with this. Even now, the gray lingers at the edges of my vision and my mind. Though, this time around, I’m not so worried about it. This time, I have my feelings on my side. I have friends. There is color in my life. Now I realize that in my pursuit of manhood, I had moved further away from it. By suppressing my emotions and feelings, I suppressed what made me human. I am a sensitive person. I am emotional. I cry. I scream. I laugh. Those are the things that make me, me. My feelings are what allow me to connect with others, the world, and myself. I know now that I can’t man up, that isn’t possible. The only thing I can do is recognize myself for what I am.

I am a man.

Music - Clayton’s music choices during our photo session included Harry Styles, Kendrick Lamar, Logic, Carly Rae Jepsen and Marianas Trench.