If someone asks how you are, the chances are you’ll say “fine” before you’ve even thought about it, and for a lot of men that answer stays the same whether work is going well or falling apart, whether home feels settled or tense, and whether they slept last night or lay awake until four.
I hear the word every week in my work with men and dads across Devon and Cornwall, and I’ve come to think of it less as an answer and more as a way of closing a door politely. It rarely means that things are fine. More often it means something that’s harder to say out loud.
Not having the words
Many of us grew up in homes where nobody talked much about how they felt, so we never really got the practice. You know something isn’t right, and you might notice it as a tight chest, a shorter fuse than usual or a low hum of worry that follows you around, but turning that into a sentence feels like being asked to speak a language you were never taught. Saying “fine” is simply easier than fumbling for words in front of someone.
Not wanting to be a burden
Men who carry a lot often see it as their job to keep everyone else afloat, and admitting that they’re struggling can feel like letting go of their end of the load at exactly the wrong moment. So they keep it to themselves, usually with the best of intentions, because they’re trying to protect the people they love from worrying about them.
Worrying about what comes out
Sometimes “fine” works like a lid on a pan. There’s a lot going on underneath, and it feels safer not to lift it in the queue at the shop or on the touchline on a Saturday morning, which is perfectly reasonable. The trouble starts when there is never a time or a place where the lid can come off, and the pressure has nowhere to go.
What it costs over time
Keeping everything in doesn’t make it disappear, and in my experience it tends to leak out sideways instead. It shows up as snapping at the kids over something small, going quiet with a partner, having a drink most nights to take the edge off, or lying awake at three in the morning running through everything that might go wrong. None of that is a sign of weakness. It’s what happens when a decent man has been carrying too much for too long without anywhere to set it down.
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A few small ways to say a bit more
You don’t need to pour your heart out to change things, and small steps count for more than people think. One that works well is giving a number instead of a word, so that “about a five today” replaces “fine”. It’s honest and quick, and it gives the people close to you an easy way in, because they can ask what would make it a six.
It also helps to think about where you have these conversations. Plenty of men find it far easier to talk when they’re side by side with someone, whether that’s in the car, out walking or working on something together, because there’s no pressure to hold eye contact and the conversation can come and go naturally.
And if all of that feels like too much, start by telling one person one true thing, such as “work has been grim lately and I’m not sleeping well”. More often than not the other person is relieved that you’ve said it, and you may find they have something of their own to share.
When “fine” has stopped working
There are times when small steps aren’t enough, and that’s when it can help to talk to someone who sits outside your everyday life. My coaching is straightforward and practical, without jargon or judgement. We work on what’s actually going on, at a pace that suits you, and each session ends with something you can use in the week ahead.
I see men in Tavistock and Saltash, online, or out walking on the edge of Dartmoor if that suits you better. The first step is a free 30-minute discovery call, which carries no pressure and no obligation.
Book your free 30-minute discovery call
On the call you can say as much or as little as you like. I’ll ask what’s been going on, you can ask me anything about how coaching works, and by the end you’ll have a clear sense of whether it’s right for you, with no obligation either way.
If you’d rather not use the form, you can email me at hello@jeffdawson.co.uk or ring me on 01822 661316, and we’ll take it from there.
If you’re reading this and thinking about someone else, it might be worth sending it to them, because sometimes that’s all it takes for a conversation to start.
I’m not a crisis service. If anyone is in immediate danger, call 999. For urgent mental health support, call NHS 111 and choose option 2, or call Samaritans free on 116 123, any time.
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