Closure: The Emotional Gulf Between Men and Women.

The realities of emotion (and the healing process) are, generally, worlds different between men and women.

Insomnia at 3 AM with somber Jazz flowing through a pair of headphones, staring upward at my ceiling – such is how I spent my first few months’ worth of nights post-relationship. This isn’t the platform for slander (I'd much prefer respect), but even if it were, I’m never into giving the gossip rags much of my time; with that said, the sudden end to a relationship that I’d started with someone I considered my best friend, someone I'd let so close to my heart, felt like a hot-cold amalgam of a fierce, prolonged inner-chest burn and a specialist's bad news after a bone break. It felt like a death. I didn't see it coming.

On all fronts, the expectation was that I would be a man, be understanding, and be over it before long. That’s a hell of a lot to be, for someone who’s just been hurt in such an unsuspecting manner. It’s akin to being blindsided on the road, ushering in physical injury among the wreckage, then being expected to dust off and dance yourself into the E.R. How realistic, how fair, is that level of expectation?

I'll repeat myself: The realities of emotion (and the healing process as a necessity) are worlds different between men and women.

Prefacing with this – being a man, I can only speak to a women’s healing process through the scope of what I have, and still do, witness on display around me; personally, and/or on a completely pedestrian note. Despite that, please, indulge me for a moment.

As emotional, feeling beings, all roads run through our support systems in the event of a perceived pain, loss or setback. I've never met anyone who doesn't fit that rule of thumb. Thorough independence is mythology – we all need a hand in something at some time; it's how entire societies were built. A sturdy emotional support system is advertised as consisting of people who can veer us from destructive thought processes, putting some of our misfortunes into perspectives that we may not have fathomed under the weight of our stresses. I don’t disagree with the advertising.

A good emotional support system is one wherein we can feel free to express ourselves in pain, or distance ourselves from such pain altogether for snippets of laughter that reinvigorate the soul. Whatever we might need. Women, being coined ‘more emotional beings’ by societal standards, have built-in support systems just in the form of having fellow girl-friends; friends who can get together for a Girl’s Night Out; friends who may call, text, or anything else along the spectrum to kick a bad vibe out of you – to get you up and running again, girl.

As a man, and as a boy for much longer, I have never had that. It was never encouraged. That fact rears itself in my times of emotional need. That fact made itself heard loud-and-clear once my relationship fell apart.

Hindsight says I counted on my previous girlfriends to provide emotional support in ways that weren’t healthy, but as a means to fill a void that no one else before them had; that my boys never emotionally could; on issues that my immediate family couldn’t always relate to without the lens of religion or a bill to pay. With the cap on my last relationship, I was devastated in the way of feeling like I not only lost my girlfriend, but that I'd lost my best friend and all that we were to one another in-between. I was afraid to give myself the proper time and ample space to grieve because I never had to turn to many other people for anything while in this relationship. We had each other – until we didn't. 

Like a scared youth lost in a shopping mall, I’d spun around in most imaginable directions searching for help, in need of immediate answers, and most importantly, with no one to sit me down and help me put the unfolding events into perspective.

Wonderful women that I've met, from all walks of life, more often have the necessary emotional support to accelerate healing in times of emotional need – such is a blessing. As a man, society doesn't ask, but demands you suck it up today and get over it tonight. It is rarely a collaborative, supportive activity. You do it yourself. You’re a fuckin' man!
Society has not adjusted to the emotional male, and it may be the very last thing we ever get adjusted to. Post-racism, post-bigotry, post-tidal wave of sexual assault cases. The topic is taboo; it's the awkward, jerky leg on the body that is sexism. It isn’t as blatant in the headlines as, say, a wage gap, or a male-dominant Silicon Valley (a different topic for a different day), but it absolutely exists. I’m the proof. Having no one to turn to for emotional support after the harshest winter season of my life, beginning with a Thanksgiving break-up between myself and someone I wanted to build with for a long time to come, as well as severance from a now-I’m-here, now-I’m-not father, I found myself lashing out, crying, questioning, feeling unlovable, and fighting for ideas and space in the lives of people who had long-ago made their minds up to leave, and eventually left. It's a cycle that I actively wanted to speak on in an attempt to divorce from.

To the title of this post, closure means something different for every single one of us. Let closure sit synonymous with whatever might help you feel most secure in the conclusion of a chapter in your life. For me, I’ve found that my best form of closure is calm, in-person (when possible) dialogue lending itself toward resolve. In a scenario where I’ve hurt someone, I take responsibility in lending you my ear, or answering any questions that you may have; to set both our minds to their best possible ease. In cases where I’ve been hurt, I could only ask for the same qualities in a person, in situations wherein I did my best, given the dealer’s hand.

To my men: Don't run from the task of knocking down that Teflon exterior. We battle hard. Every one of us is wounded somewhere along the path. Open up, and speak about these wounds. Speak to me, I'll listen. Always. It's my life's work to listen, and listen to understand, in an era of talking heads and deaf ears. Seek professional help when your emotional burden becomes too much to bear. I have. No one saw the pain in me, and if they did, no one addressed me on it, but for years, I'd needed help. Exhaust your resources. Seek your human support system. You deserve happiness, too.

To my women: Don't buy into stereotypical norms of men being better equipped to handle emotion. It's false. Wonderful women who support each other in times of distress are further ahead in that regard than many of us men, clinging to primitive ideas of masculinity. Help us out. Try to understand that societal expectations have wired men to drown out their emotions, in stark contrast to swimming in their emotions just enough to have a better understanding of them later on. We all qualify for emotional support. There should be no elitism there, but understanding is everything, as knowledge is power.

When we know better, we do better. Love. Love.

This was one hell of a first post, but thank you for your time!

Look out for Asya's thoughts on self-care, coming soon!