men's mental health awareness series 3

the armour called “i’m fine”

Dear Gentle Reader,

If I had a dollar for every time a man said “I’m fine” when he was absolutely not fine, I’d have a beachfront house in the Bahamas.

You know what I mean, right?

It sounds harmless. In fact, it sounds like the responsible thing to say. You’ve got work to do, people depending on you, and no time to fall apart. So instead of saying what’s actually going on, you say, “I’m fine.” Over and over.

But it’s not true.

You're not fine!

“I’m fine” is code for “I’m not okay, but I don’t know how to talk about it.” It’s a default response that helps men avoid discomfort, dodge vulnerability, and keep conversations on the surface. And over time, it becomes a habit. A defence mechanism. A script. A dismissive, convenient lie.

And the more we say it, the less we deal with the real issues.

Sometimes, it’s because he doesn’t want to be a burden.

Sometimes it’s pride.

Sometimes it’s just that he’s not even sure how to put it into words.

But more often than not, “I’m fine” is a wall.
It’s emotional armour agaisnt a world that cares little or nothing about a man’s wellbeing because the man has been made to believe that no one cares about how he feels but what he provides.

And the problem with armour is that while it protects you from getting hurt, it also keeps you from being helped. You block out the harm, yes, but you also block out the healing.

Men are often raised to see emotions as threats. We’re taught to handle things alone, to “man up,” and avoid looking weak. So we downplay stress, hide burnout, drown depression in bottles of beer, build biceps over trauma, ignore fears, and macho through life billingly. We say we’re fine because it feels safer than admitting we’re not.

But this silence has consequences.

Unaddressed mental health issues pile up. Relationships suffer. Anger leaks out in unexpected ways. Sanity is eroded. Health declines. In extreme cases, lives are lost.

The “I’m fine” pandemic thrives in cultures where men aren’t allowed to be honest about what they’re feeling.

Why should a man asking for help be seen as a failure?

Why's suffering in silence is mistaken for strength?

Many men carry everything in silence, and that's doing men more psychological harm than a prolonged war could boast of.

Men carry stress from work, silently.

Men carry grief from losing someone, silently.

Men worry about the future, silently.

The fear that they’re not good enough, not strong enough, not making it fast enough, haunts them daily.

And when you ask them how they’re doing? “I’m fine.”

They never voice out their frustrations and fears.

If you’re reading this and that sounds familiar—let me ask you this:

When was the last time you told someone the truth?

Not the polished version. The real one.

You know what, bro? You don’t have to carry all of it alone. So here’s what needs to change:

• If you’re not okay, say so. You don’t need to unpack everything at once, but stop lying to yourself and the people who care.

• If you ask another man how he’s doing, listen. Ask twice. Give him permission to be honest.

• If you’re a leader, a father, a brother, a friend—model real conversations. Normalise them. Set the tone. Foster a safe environment for fellow men to unburden without being judged.

You don’t have to have it all figured out, man. Seriously, you don’t have to be okay all the time. But you do have to stop pretending you are.

You’re allowed to say, “Actually, I’m not okay today.”

You’re allowed more than survival.

You’re allowed support.

You’re allowed to have people around you who can hold space for that.

— Jaachịmmá Anyatọnwụ

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Read Issue 1: Why Don't Men Cry?

Read Issue 2: Tough Doesn't Mean Numb

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