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Patrick Fellows is a 5 time Ironman, TEDx giving, 32 miles swimming, endurance coaching, healthy cooking, entrepreneur and musician.  Born in Dearborn, MI, raised in Mississippi and a Louisianian for 30 years, 

SELF CARE FOR MEN!!

SELF CARE FOR MEN!!

The things that catch my eye and move me are often throwaways. A sentence of filler within a deeper article. An extra line to meet the words needed for the assignment, perhaps. For me, they are hard stops, not to be ignored, as often, they yield some of the snippets of the world  that I write and am most proud of. It's too early on here to make the  assumption that this will be one of them. But I'll press on. 


Today's stop came a couple minutes into an article about the days of the week, the author recounting his (I think) use of small leather bound diaries from a company called Letts, advertisements of which can be dated back to Dickens novels. The diaries were traditionally used as planners or at the least...well, diaries, I guess. In recent times and in our ever evolving world, they are now marketed for the "pursuit of wellness," stating further, that "self care for men should absolutely be a priority."  This is what stopped me and started today's move from reader to writer. "Self care for men."


I'd say I tend to be more of a writer (the physical pencil and paper type) than a user of the super computer that lives in my pocket, but when I think of this today, I'm not sure that it's the case anymore. I used to buy all sorts of planners and journals, forcing my hand, quite literally, to catalog and plan my days. I love the idea of a journal or planner. As the carrier of that cadaverous soul vulture, "ADD" or whatever it is that ails me, I always arrive back at "records nothing, wings it, suffers mightily from resulting anxiety."  As we speak my heart rate is elevated and there's a low hum of anxiety in the air. As I sat and thought about it. I haven't bought or used a planner or journal in at least a year. Maybe further. Alas, I still and will align with and identify as the pencil/paper man. 


I digress. 


"Self care for men," is what stopped my reading this morning and on November 30th, 2021, the last day of  Men's Mental Heath Awareness Month, a made up thing built to alert us to the obvious need to prioritize something we, as men, weren't ever told was a priority, I feel obligated to dive in deeper. 


Full disclosure. I hate the term "self care".  It's at best soft and overwrought. At worst it's the epitome of all the 70's and 80's taught us about what being a man was supposed to be. Oh wait. Never mind. There was no good lessen there. I think I escaped 1989 with two good "man lessons". Have a firm handshake and treat women with respect. These were at the least, solid. Self care for men?  I mean, I went and saw Kiss. That has to count for something, right. 


As it stands, at 6:41 a.m.  I've been hanging on to a downward spiral. Maybe it's the early darkness or maybe it's the cyclical nature of depression. Irregardlessingly, here I sit, anxious and withdrawn, pulling the strings of my relationships taught so as to test their mettle. This is life as I have accepted it to be. I don't say this as some sort of bravado. I say it as it is my reality and regardless of whether I go get a pedicure (that's self care right?), I'll awaken tomorrow and in 3-7 seconds, the waves will crash in. I’ll allow the salt of the ocean to briefly sting my eyes and then I’ll pop up, shake my head and continue on. So yeah. Maybe some of that internet self care is in need. 


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Now that we've established we menses may actually need it, what the fuck does this so called "self care" even look like. As one who preaches the old adage (since 2018!) "never ask a question that you can Google and get the answer to." I flip my adept right thumb up and close this writing app and open up a googler page...(be right back). After erroneously typing "what k..." instead of "what is..." I see the first Google search recommendation is "what kills maggots" and am immediately more disturbed than I already was. I backspace and just type "self care for men". 


The top hits tell me that I must need aluminum free deodorant and antiperspirant and soap sets. Apparently soap cures what ails me. Further digging reveals that apparently we men like pampering too! We just don't want to seem feminine. This has long been weird to me. I've never felt a need to not feel feminine or to feel feminine. I do think men look at things from a different lens. A massage feels great, but is meant to be used to fix something sore not for feeling relaxed and rejuvenated. 


Next on the list was something called enclothed cognition. This is essentially "dress good, feel good".  This, in the moment, feels like something the marketing team at Brooks Brothers made up to sell suits. I am a proponent of having your own style but save me the enclothed cognition. I mean puh-lease. 


The next dozen or so items were much the same. Marketing and catch phrases. Apparently buying shit and "checking in with myself" is what I need. Get. Right. Fucked. This is the issue. People who really do want to take care of themselves beyond turning 50 and craving a Porsche, are just shilled upon with soap ads and blather. There is no substance. 


Maybe I'm confused but self care to me means "what is something I can do to make the chaos of my world a little better."  Maybe it looks like "resources for guys who aren't 100% sure how to be better friends, dads, husbands (read all of us)." Maybe, just maybe it looks like buying another guitar. I think I 'm 100% sure I read that. 


What I've gleaned from my world is that us guys (my skin’s been crawling referring to myself as a part of the collective MEN!) are likely struggling and that we probably needed November to remind us to reach out to others for some help. For an ear. For something. I've learned we don't really believe in the same "self care" bullshit that permeates the ether. I've learned we probably need to start our new self care regimen by drinking less, working out more, eating better, and sleeping more. I've learned we are lucky if we have a hobby we can do sometimes to keep life interesting. I've learned we are lucky if we have at least one friend we can talk to, because we all have shit we need to scrape off of our plates. We likely need a good dog or two, just in case that friend's not available, but try and not get caught talking to your dog much in public. It makes you look crazy. 


If we can get through the daily with as many of these boxes checked as possible, I think we can leave the soap to the internet. 


Keep your chin up guys! Men's Mental Health Month is right around the corner!


#hugsandhi5s

A Long December

A Long December

AM I STILL WHO I SAY I AM?

AM I STILL WHO I SAY I AM?