What Gen X Men Were Never Taught About Love And Ways To Heal

If you are a man who is struggling in relationships,

Whether you grew up as a latchkey kid in the 70s or 80s,

Or you were raised in a household that looked fine from the outside.

But felt emotionally empty on the inside,

This video is for you.

Before we begin,

I want to name three things.

First,

While my intention was to speak to Gen X men specifically,

These patterns touch multiple generations.

So wherever you're coming from,

If this lands,

It's yours.

Second,

This is not a man bashing video.

We don't do that here.

And I'll be making a video on Gen X women too.

It would be irresponsible not to acknowledge gender roles given how Gen X was raised.

Third,

If you find yourself getting defensive or activated while listening,

That's an opportunity to get curious.

And one more thing,

This isn't about blaming our parents either.

They were doing the best they could with what they were given to.

Often without any roadmaps.

And likely carrying their own unresolved wounds from their parents.

This is about understanding patterns so we can break them,

Not pointing fingers.

The information here is based on my personal experience with relationships,

My clients,

Friends,

And family.

Combined with my expertise and attachments.

I'll use some examples to illustrate as well.

I'll be honest with you,

As I was putting this script together,

I got really emotional.

You are our brothers,

Our partners,

Our spouses,

Our lovers,

Our friends.

And many are fathers.

We see you,

We love you,

And we know you hold so much.

Often quietly.

And often without anyone ever stopping to ask how you're really doing.

So before we dive in.

I just want you to know this comes from a place of care.

Okay,

Let's begin.

Gen X men,

We love you.

You are independent,

Resourceful,

Grounded.

Loyal,

Quietly funny,

Humbly skeptical.

Fiercely self-reliant.

And built to handle whatever life throws at you without making a big deal out of it.

Gen X men grew up hearing that boys don't cry,

To walk it off,

Man up,

Suck it up,

And that nobody wants to hear about their problems.

Big boys didn't get scared.

Real men didn't need help.

And showing fear or sadness meant you weren't tough enough.

So they learned early to swallow it,

To be the rock,

To handle things alone,

And never let anyone see them sweat.

Beyond that messaging,

Experiences shaped these attachment wounds.

Being a latchkey kid with no one checking in emotionally.

Parents who were present physically but checked out emotionally,

Whether from being overwhelmed,

Working,

Or just products of their own stoic upbringing.

Being compared to siblings or told to toughen up if you got hurt or picked on.

A bullying culture where adults expected boys to handle it themselves.

We dealt with a lot of adult situations at young ages without adult support.

Divorce rates skyrocketing with kids shuffled between households or left to process it alone.

And for those whose parents didn't divorce,

Many watched two incompatible people stay together out of obligation,

Absorbing the tension of a marriage that should have ended,

Learning that love meant staying even when it hurts.

There was a general cultural absence of emotional vocabulary.

Nobody modeling what healthy conflict or affection between men looked like,

And being praised for being low-maintenance or easygoing,

Which reinforced that needs were a burden.

Many Gen X men never had a father model what it looks like for a man to be both strong and emotionally present.

So they grew up either repeating the silence or overcorrecting into people-pleasing,

All while having no template for how to do it differently.

Provider but not a presence.

Working long hours,

Then coming home and disappearing into the garage,

The TV,

Or just silence.

Affection wasn't spoken,

And I love you wasn't said.

So sons grew up starved for a model of male tenderness,

Having to guess at whether they were loved at all.

For others,

Dad was critical,

Hard to please,

Or quick to compare you to someone doing it better,

Planting a need to prove your worth through achievement that never quite goes away.

And for some,

Anger was the only emotional language dad spoke,

Which taught sons early that anger was the one feeling allowed to come out,

So everything else got buried underneath it.

Then there's the literal absence through divorce,

Abandonment,

Or death,

Leaving a void and a question that never fully goes away.

If my father couldn't stay,

What does that say about me?

Sometimes that absence got filled with an idealized version of dad,

A fantasy of who he could have been,

Built by a kid who needed somewhere to put all that longing.

And for some,

Dad was physically there,

But undermined or pushed to the side within the family.

Leaving sons with a confusing,

Contradictory picture of what masculinity even looked like.

Many of these fathers were just repeating what was done to them,

Passing down the same silence and distance they never got to heal from.

And then there were the sons who became the man of the house too soon,

Stepping into a role that wasn't theirs to carry,

Becoming their mother's support system before they'd even had the chance to be kids themselves.

And he never got to just be a boy.

Many Gen X men also carry a mother wound,

And it shapes something different than the father wound.

It shapes how safe it feels to be vulnerable with a woman,

Separate from anything about masculinity itself.

A man might feel completely at ease with his guy friends,

But the moment he gets close to a woman,

His body braces for criticism,

Abandonment,

Or being swallowed whole,

Because that's the blueprint his mother wrote first.

For some,

Mom was overwhelmed.

Running a household,

Working,

Holding a marriage together with nothing left in the tank by the time she got to him.

So he learns not to add to her load,

To keep his needs small and quiet.

Because she already had enough to carry.

For others,

Mom needed him to be the man of the house emotionally,

Long before he was a man at all.

He became her confidant,

Her protector,

The one she vented to about dad or about life.

And somewhere in there,

His own childhood got skipped.

He grew into an adult who feels responsible for how the women around him feel,

Who can't quite tell the difference between loving someone and managing them.

Some Gen X men grew up with a mother whose love came with conditions.

Approval tied to grades,

Behavior,

Being good,

Being easy.

So he learned he was lovable when he performed and uncertain whether he was lovable at all underneath.

Others had a mother who held on too tight,

Anxious,

Worried,

Hard to let go of.

And that closeness later shows up two ways.

Either he craves that same intensity,

Or he runs from it,

Needing distance just to breathe in a relationship.

For some,

Mom was there,

But not really there.

Distracted,

Numbed out,

Dealing with her own depression or addiction or just exhaustion.

So he learned to self-soothe early.

And as an adult,

Asking for emotional support doesn't even occur to him as an option because no one ever showed him that it was.

Some grew up being compared to a sibling,

Always coming up short,

Always feeling like the unchosen one,

A wound that echoes later into relationships where he feels like he's still competing for someone's attention.

And for some,

Mom needed him to reflect well on her,

To manage her moods,

To stay small so he never outshined her.

He either became someone who overgives and overperforms to keep the peace,

Or someone who shuts down entirely.

Protecting himself from ever being used that way again.

Here's how all of this shows up now in adulthood for many Gen X men.

Some became the strong,

Silent type who never asks for help.

Even when they're drowning,

Because asking was never modeled and was actively discouraged.

They white-knuckle through breakups,

Job losses,

Health scares,

Grief,

All of it,

Alone,

Because that's what they were trained to do.

Some became chronic over-functioners,

The fixer,

The provider,

The one everyone leans on.

Who has no idea how to receive care because giving was the only role they ever knew how to play.

Some became avoidant in relationships.

Not because they don't feel deeply,

But because closeness as a kid meant being needed,

Drained,

Or engulfed.

So as an adult,

Distance feels like safety and intimacy feels like a threat.

Some became people pleasers who overcorrect,

Terrified of conflict.

Terrified of disappointing anyone,

Because as kids,

Disappointing the adults in their life wasn't safe.

And substance abuse runs through a lot of this.

Alcohol especially became the culturally sanctioned way for Gen X men to access the feelings they were never allowed to have.

To numb out,

To unwind,

To cope,

All without having to call it what it is.

A six-pack after work isn't seen as self-medicating.

It's just what dads do,

What guys do,

Completely normalized.

For men who are taught that needing support is weakness and that anger is the only acceptable emotion,

Substances became the only socially approved outlet,

Whether that's alcohol,

Weed,

Or numbing out through overwork,

Screens,

Or anything that quiets the noise without requiring a single vulnerable word.

And for men who are now in their 50s,

60s,

And 70s,

The cost of decades of coping this way is showing up now.

In the body.

In a second or third divorce.

In estrangement from adult children who grew up watching the same silence.

And learn to stay away.

Gen X is dying at higher rates from causes tied to substance use.

Than the generations before us.

We want you around.

And underneath almost all of it is the same core fear.

If I show you who I really am,

What I actually need.

You'll leave,

You'll think less of me,

Or you'll be one more person I have to take care of.

Here's a great example of two people's attachment styles and core wounds playing out in a casual conversation with my Gen X ex.

He made the comment that he wanted me to need him,

Not want him.

My first thought was,

I don't need anyone.

I would rather want to be wanted than needed.

Now I see that was an indication of my hyper-independence.

I don't need anyone.

And that relates back to a core wound in my fearful avoidant attachment style.

The core wounds around this are feeling powerless or having no control,

Feeling helpless,

Feeling unsafe,

Or feeling abandoned,

Hyper-independent,

Is a way to compensate for those wounds.

On the flip side,

For my ex,

His desire to be needed may have been around a core wound,

A feeling unworthy of love,

Or feeling defective.

The irony of this is that when I did need my ex's help,

It was for emotional support and he wasn't there for me.

And this is where I can relate this example to a broader generational phenomenon.

Men were typically the providers.

They brought the money in,

They took care of the external needs,

While women were the nurturers and caretakers.

As we've progressed,

Women have become more independent and less reliant on men for those external factors.

What I'm seeing in a lot of relationships.

Is that women need those external things from men less,

But they need more emotional support.

And many men,

Through no fault of their own,

Were never taught how to provide that.

So we may see men begin to avoid.

A lot of men are problem solvers.

And if they feel like they can't help from an emotional standpoint,

They may disconnect or deactivate.

Pro tip for men.

This is something I learned from my ex that I appreciated.

When your partner needs emotional support,

Them this question.

Do you need me to just listen right now or would you like some feedback or advice?

The tendency is often to go into fix-it mode and when that happens your partner may feel like their feelings are being dismissed instead of heard while you think you're being supportive by trying to solve the problem.

So here's what we're asking gently and from a place of love.

Forgive yourself.

So much of what you carry,

The self-loathing,

The shame.

The feeling like you should have figured this out by now was never yours to carry in the first place.

You were doing your best with what you were given and you can still choose something different now.

Talk to someone,

A therapist,

A coach,

A trusted friend,

A men's group.

You've spent decades being the one everyone else talks to,

The one who held it together,

The one who showed up.

You deserve a turn.

That's not weakness.

That's actually overdue.

Take care of your body.

We talked earlier about how alcohol became the normalized way to cope,

But we want you around.

Taking care of your body might mean looking honestly at how you're coping and finding ways to feel better that don't quietly cost you years.

And if you take one thing from this video,

Let it be this,

Strength and emotional connection are not opposite.

You don't have to choose between being the steady one and being someone who can be vulnerable,

Who can talk about feelings even when it's uncomfortable,

Who can ask for help without it meaning you've failed.

That's actually not weakness.

That's actually what real strength looks like.

Breaking a cycle that has been passed down for generations,

Learning that you can be financially responsible and emotionally available.

That you can be self-reliant without being emotionally isolated.

That's not a contradiction.

It's the whole point.

You don't have to do this alone either.

That's kind of the whole message here.

I know putting things in generational terms can feel like it's a generalization,

And it is.

This is a pattern,

Not a verdict.

If none of this applies to you,

That's great,

Genuinely.

And if some of it did land,

That's OK,

Too.