The Quiet Men Are Still Hurting
Not every man wants to talk about what he is going through or feeling.
Not every man finds healing in a circle of chairs, in a softly lit room, where the question comes too soon:
“So… how are you feeling?”
Some of us go quiet, not because we have nothing to say, but because sometimes the words do not match the shape of our pain. Sometimes, the expectation to speak feels like another performance, another role to play, or another place where we must prove something we have not yet found.
I am a quiet man who has generally been fortunate. I have used counselling intermittently for over thirty years, beginning when I needed to understand my dysfunctional relationship with my parents and the effects of religious trauma. Most of the counsellors and therapists I have seen over the years have been skilled, conscientious practitioners with the wisdom to hold space that allowed me to find my healing.
However, there have also been times I have sat in the chair facing the counsellor, trying to hold a smile in place while silently muttering, “Beam me up, Scotty,” to misquote Star Trek, while the counsellor talked about the advantages of some techniques they had just read about but which were misaligned with my needs. I have sat in men’s groups and squirmed and sweated, trying to think what I could say that gave the appearance of being honest about my situation, while at the same time, saying nothing because trust with my fellow group members had never been established.
After extracting myself as graciously or ungraciously from these situations, depending on my level of being triggered, I castigate myself for putting myself through these situations.
The truth is, like many silent men, I am hurting. I am looking for…no…I long for a space to stop carrying my burdens and just be.
I am not alone in this. Many men are like me—deeply feeling, having spent a lifetime being what others needed, while privately learning to bear pain without showing it. We are not emotionally illiterate. We are not broken.
We are just quiet.
And sometimes we do not know how—or where, or with whom—we are allowed to be anything else.
Why Words Do Not Come Easy
Western therapy models have traditionally prioritised verbal expression as the main way to heal. Talking it out, naming the feeling, and sharing the story are the key paths to integration. However, not everyone processes pain through words.
Not All Men Heal Through Talking
As introverted men, in particular, we often connect with our inner world quietly and in a nonlinear way. We require space before speaking, time before trusting, and meaning before articulating.
As Jung (1921) described, introversion is not a social dysfunction but a natural inward energy orientation. According to Cain (2012), introverts comprise an estimated 25–40% of the population and flourish in low-stimulus settings where reflection comes before response. For many introverted men, being asked “How do you feel?” too soon can seem more like an intrusion than an invitation.
Introverted men often feel deeply but express themselves slowly. We do not shy away from emotion, but we do not access it openly.
Masculine Conditioning Compounds It
The challenge for quiet men is compounded when masculine socialisation is added. Many of us are taught early that emotions are dangerous, that silence equals strength, and that asking for help is a sign of weakness (Mahalik, Burns, & Syzdek, 2003).
By the time we become adults, we often internalise the idea that talking equals vulnerability and vulnerability equals risk.
So, when we finally step into a space for support, therapy, group work, or mentoring, we carry with us both a natural introversion and a lifetime of learned silence. It is not because we have nothing to say, but because no one has ever shown us or provided us with the space and safety to speak it.
People often mistake the result for resistance, disinterest, or emotional shutdown. But in truth? It is about self-protection.
Therapy Can Feel Performative
Even well-meaning therapy spaces can feel like emotional performance halls for quiet men. The expectation to speak—to share openly, quickly, and clearly—can trigger feelings of exposure rather than safety.
Many introverted men leave these spaces not because they do not want help, but because the space does not know how to meet them. What is worse is when men stay silent and blame themselves for not fitting the model.
As Helgoe (2013) notes, the traditional “talking cure” often clashes with the natural rhythm of introverted people. When therapy feels more like pressure to perform than an invitation to open up, men tend to withdraw — not just from the session, but from the idea of seeking help altogether.
What Happens When Quiet Men Go Unmet
When we create support systems only for the articulate and extroverted, quiet men begin to disappear—not because they want to, but because they were never really invited in.
Here is what often happens:
• Emotional Withholding
We are experts at hiding our true feelings. We have learned to conceal pain behind our smiles. I am skilled at using humour to deflect when I prefer not to discuss something. However, like many silent men, our grief and sense of not belonging do not go away — they deepen. Our questions stay unspoken. Over time, this bottled-up emotion can lead to depression, tension, and even physical issues (Pennebaker, 1997).
• Self-Blame
Men who find it hard to connect with traditional therapy often blame themselves. “I must be too shut down.” “I am just not good at this.” However, the reality is simpler: they have never been offered healing in their native language.
• Disconnection
Without spaces honouring our tempo and truth, quiet men default to independence, not because it is easier, but safer. Eventually, they stop reaching out—not due to apathy, but exhaustion.
What Is Presence—and Why Does It Matter?
“Your silence is not a problem. It is a place.”
One of the most meaningful things we can give quiet men is our presence, not pressure.
Presence is not passive. It is the profound, grounded act of simply being with someone without the need to fix, probe, or rush their journey.
Presence says:
“You are enough. You are safe. You do not have to say anything for me to be here.”
Presence means:
- Letting silence be sacred
- Trusting the unsaid
- Validating non-verbal truths
- Honouring the rhythm of becoming
This is how you meet a man where he is at—not by pushing him to speak, but by witnessing what already speaks through him.
Therapists and Men’s Groups: How to Support Men When Words Do not Come Easy
If you are a therapist, mentor, or support worker, here are six practice shifts that speak the language of the quiet ones:
1. Slow the Pace of Trust
Trust is not built through questions but through safety. Do not rush to “go deep.”
Let the nervous system settle before the soul is asked to speak.
Tell the man, “You do not have to explain everything.”
2. Offer Alternative Pathways
Try journaling, metaphor, image cards, or somatic movement. Men often convey truth through symbols before speaking (Laney, 2002).
“Draw what this feeling looks like.”
“If this ache were a landscape, what would you see?”
3. Honour Silence as Sacred
Do not interpret silence as avoidance. Silence is often where meaning brews. Let it be.
Tell the man, “We do not need to fill this space. Let us just be here together.”
4. Reframe Support as Strength
Many men engage more easily when help is presented as clarity, insight, or strategy rather than vulnerability.
“What pattern do you see in this?”
“What value feels misaligned right now?”
5. Engage the Body First
Emotion lives in the body. Use breath, posture, and sensation to access what words cannot.
“Where do you feel that in your body?”
“Let us breathe into that spot and just notice.”
6. Affirm Their Way of Healing
Tell them their quiet is not a problem. It is a method.
“You do not need to talk more—you just need a space that understands your way.”
Beyond Talk Therapy: Three Healing Alternatives
Some men might never connect with traditional therapy. That does not mean they are unreachable. It means we need to broaden the approach.
1. Walk-and-Talk Sessions in Nature
Side-by-side walking lowers intensity, promotes movement-based processing, and removes the “spotlight” of face-to-face chat.
2. Somatic or Breath-Based Practices
Gentle body scans, breathwork, and grounding exercises all help bypass the mind and anchor emotional presence.
3. Peer Mentoring with Spacious Conversation
1:1 mentoring, especially with someone who understands the masculine wound, provides deep resonance without any pressure to perform.
Men: If This Is You…
You are not broken because you are quiet.
You are not less of a man because you struggle to name your feelings.
You may just be carrying more than words can hold.
You might be the kind of man who:
- Writes it before he says it
- Feels it before he understands it
- Needs space before he can share it
That is not a flaw. That is a form of wisdom.
You do not need to follow a one-size-fits-all healing approach.
You also are not obliged to open up whenever someone asks.
You just need a space that respects your rhythm and waits with you in it.
Closing Reflection
There is more than one way to heal.
For the quiet ones, the steady ones, the watchers and processors, support does not have to mean sharing your soul in soundbites. Sometimes, the most sacred moments of healing come not through words, but through presence.
A slow breath.
A shared silence.
A moment that finally feels safe enough not to fill.
You do not need to find the right words.
You just need the right space.
Let us find that space together.
Start your journey back to yourself, at your own pace.
References
Cain, S. (2012). Quiet: The power of introverts in a world that cannot stop talking. Crown Publishing Group.
Helgoe, L. (2013). Introvert power: Why your inner life is your hidden strength. Sourcebooks, Inc.
Jung, C. G. (1921). Psychological Types. Princeton University Press.
Laney, M. O. (2002). The introvert advantage: How quiet people can thrive in an extrovert world. Workman Publishing.
Mahalik, J. R., Burns, S. M., & Syzdek, M. (2003). Masculinity and perceived normative health behaviors as predictors of men’s health behaviors. Social Science & Medicine, 64(11), 2201–2209. https://doi.org/10.1016/S0277-9536(02)00403-4
Pennebaker, J. W. (1997). Opening up: The healing power of expressing emotions. Guilford Press.
Pennebaker, J. W., & Beall, S. K. (1986). Confronting a traumatic event: Toward an understanding of inhibition and disease. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 95(3), 274–281. https://doi.org/10.1037/0021-843X.95.3.274
