Written by Keith Russell
Men Don’t Struggle With Feelings, We Struggle With Expression
Men’s Health Month always brings important conversations around mental health into focus. And while those conversations have improved over the years, I still feel there are parts of men’s mental health that remain deeply misunderstood, overlooked, or simply ignored.
Body image is one of them.
There is still a narrative that men struggle with mental health because we struggle with feelings. I don’t believe that’s true.
I think men feel deeply. We feel grief. Shame. Loneliness. Rejection. Fear. Insecurity. Pressure. We feel all of it.
The problem isn’t that men don’t have feelings. The problem is that many of us were never given the language to understand those feelings, express them, or ask for help when things become overwhelming.
And even when we do find the words, stigma often steps in. Sometimes it’s stigma from society. Sometimes it’s stigma from the people around us. And sometimes the loudest stigma comes from within. Self-stigma can be brutal.
That voice in your head telling you to toughen up. Stop complaining. Man up. Other people have it worse. Nobody wants to hear this. I know that voice well.
The Fear of Not Being Believed
When I first started opening up about my struggles with body image, one of my biggest fears was that I simply wouldn’t be believed.
I felt like I didn’t fit the stereotypical image of someone struggling with body dysmorphia or body image issues. In my head, body image struggles were seen as something women dealt with. That was the stereotype I had absorbed, whether I realised it or not.
Part of me thought people would laugh. Another part thought people would assume I was attention-seeking. I worried people would think, “How could he have body image issues?”
That fear kept me quiet for a long time. And I know I’m not alone in that.
We’ve Improved the Mental Health Conversation, But Body Image Still Lags Behind
We have made progress in talking about men’s mental health in Ireland. Conversations around depression, anxiety, burnout, grief, and suicide are happening more openly than they once did. That matters. It saves lives.
But when it comes to body image and body positivity, I believe we still have a long way to go. Too many men are struggling in silence because they don’t think their pain counts.
In Ireland, men continue to make up the vast majority of deaths by suicide. Behind every statistic is a human being, a son, a father, a brother, a friend. While suicide rates have improved compared with previous decades, the reality remains sobering: men are still disproportionately dying from mental health struggles.
That should force us to ask difficult questions. Why are so many men still suffering alone?I believe loneliness is a huge part of the answer. A lot of men feel isolated, even when surrounded by people. You can be in a crowded room and feel completely alone.
The Hidden Loneliness Many Men Carry
You can have friends and still feel like nobody really knows what’s happening inside your head. I know this only to well.
Many men are brilliant at functioning. We go to work. We train. We smile. We joke. We keep moving. And underneath all of that, we can be struggling badly. This is also something I know only to well. I became an expert in hiding behind the smile.
Loneliness doesn’t always look like physical isolation. Sometimes it looks like emotional disconnection. Sometimes it looks like never feeling safe enough to be honest. That’s especially true when the struggle is body image.
Social Media and the Pursuit of the “Perfect” Body
Body image discussions still overwhelmingly centre around women, and while those conversations are important, we cannot continue pretending men aren’t affected too.
We are. And social media has intensified that reality.
We now live in a world where idealised bodies are constantly pushed in front of us. Leaner. Bigger. More muscular. More defined. Less body fat. Better abs. Better arms. Better everything.
The message is relentless: You could look better. You should look better. Why don’t you look better? That pressure affects men of all ages, but I worry especially about younger generations.
Many young men have grown up entirely in the age of social media. They have never known a world without filters, algorithms, fitness influencers, edited photos, and impossible beauty standards. That changes things.
I’m 45 years old, and my generation had to adapt to social media. We remember life before it. We remember boredom without screens. We remember bad haircuts living forever only in memory instead of online. We remember a time when not everything was content. The younger generation hasn’t had that separation. For them, online life and real life are deeply intertwined.
That can absolutely be a good thing. Social media can build community. It can reduce stigma. It can help people feel seen and understood. It can connect people to support they might never have found otherwise.
But there is also a darker side. Constant comparison. Constant performance. Constant pressure.
Muscle Dysmorphia: Never Feeling Good Enough
One issue receiving more attention now is muscle dysmorphia.
Muscle dysmorphia is a form of body dysmorphic disorder where someone becomes obsessed with the belief that their body is too small, too weak, or not muscular enough, even when they are objectively muscular.
From the outside, people may see discipline. Inside, there can be obsession. Obsessive training. Rigid eating. Extreme guilt. Body checking. Anxiety around missing workouts. Never feeling big enough. Never feeling good enough. That last part is important.
Because body dysmorphia is rarely just about the body. Usually, it’s about worth.
“If I look better, maybe I’ll feel better.” “If I’m bigger, maybe I’ll feel respected.” “If I’m leaner, maybe I’ll finally like myself.”
But self-worth built purely on appearance is fragile. No amount of validation can permanently fix an internal wound.
The Pressure of Being Seen as an “Influencer”
I also want to speak honestly about my own place in all of this. Some people now refer to me as an “influencer.” I hate that word. It feels cringey, self-righteous, and if I’m honest, a bit pretentious.
I understand why people use it. I work in the body image and mental health space. I share openly. I speak publicly. I host The Endless Spiral podcast and write this blog and give school talks, where I talk to people about mental health, eating disorders, body image, and recovery.
So I understand the label. But that label also comes with pressure. Pressure to have it all figured out. Pressure to always say the right thing. Pressure to be healed. Pressure to somehow be beyond struggling.
That’s not real. I do not have all the answers. I still struggle. I still question myself.
I still have days where insecurity gets loud. And maybe that’s exactly why this work matters. Not because I’ve solved everything. But because I’m willing to be honest about the fact that healing isn’t linear.
There isn’t a finish line where you become permanently fixed. There is only awareness. Growth. Reflection. Support. Self-compassion. And continuing to do the work.
Redefining Strength
Men’s Health Month matters. But I don’t want this conversation to stop when the month ends. I want us to keep challenging the idea that vulnerability makes men weak. I want us to challenge the idea that body image is only a women’s issue.
I want more men to know this: You do not need to earn the right to struggle. You do not need to look unwell to deserve support. And you do not need perfect words to start talking.
Sometimes all you need is one honest sentence.
“I’m struggling.”
That sentence can change everything.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned through my own journey, through speaking in schools, through podcast conversations, and through connecting with so many people across Ireland, it’s this:
Men do have feelings. Plenty of them. What many of us lack is permission, language, and safety. Maybe the most powerful thing we can do is create spaces where men no longer feel they need to perform strength at the expense of honesty.
Because real strength was never about silence. Sometimes strength sounds like vulnerability. Sometimes strength sounds like truth.
And sometimes strength sounds like a man saying:
I’m not okay.
If you are struggling with body image and/or with disordered eating please get in touch with BodyWhys HERE
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