Really powerful article. Lots of insights, and the writing is very moving.

But I'd like to offer a counterpoint, not because your points aren't good, but because they are and you've got that angle covered and then some.

I freely admit that from your angle, you can see the most. Your angle is the main course; I hope at most to offer three small side-dishes.

Counterpoint One: Manning Up

Once upon a time, shortly after college, I came down with a really severe fatigue disorder. At times I could barely muster the strength to close my hand--yeah, I could get it closed rather than open, but that was about it. Naturally, I went to see a doctor, who runs a test for mono and some other things. They don't test my grip strength, which would be a super-obvious indication that there's something measurably wrong. But why bother, I guess, since it wouldn't be actionable? They find nothing conclusive, I get some super-generic advice about being healthy and exercising (um...I can barely walk down a block?) and taking vitamins and am sent on my way with an admonition to come back in a few weeks if I don't improve.

Few weeks later, I'm back, no better, they test me for mono again (still negative) and some other stuff. According to their tests, I'm perfectly healthy. They don't test my grip strength. Same story, except they spend a lot longer asking if I'm depressed, and I tell them all the stuff I'm excited about which seems to convince them that maybe I'm not depressed after all and they send me away for longer.

Couple months later, guess what? I'm back. They test me for mono again. They don't test my grip strength, and yet again they find nothing obviously wrong. I'm perfectly healthy, according to what they want to test me for. "Have you ever thought about killing yourself?" they ask.

Gee, guys, thanks for the suggestion! So, it turns out that while hardly being able to move, although my thinking wasn't quite as clear as normal, it was still pretty good, and so I had time to think through all sorts of scenarios. So I explain to them how the incredible fatigue is very frustrating because it is completely derailing my plans for my future--I just can't function well enough. And it's also very frustrating that they're making no progress whatsoever in even identifying the nature of the problem. Neurological? Viral? Autoimmune, but mild? Metabolic, but in some non-obvious way? But, I explain, I can envision other paths I could take that might be compatible with this extreme fatigue, and give a couple examples. Still, I explain how it is very important me to make a positive contribution to society, and state that if my condition worsens to the point where I can't contribute at all, and there are no prospects for improvement, I wouldn't want to keep living.

"We are very concerned about you!" they say with horror, and send me off to a psychologist.

Fortunately, they sent me to a good one. We had some pleasant chats; he confirmed that my frustration with my poor health seemed within appropriate bounds. Luckily, not too long thereafter my body started figuring out whatever was wrong, and I was able to pursue my original career with only a modest glitch.

But the medical professionals could have been right to be worried about my mental health (even while they were dropping the ball on my physical health). It wasn't through any particular cleverness on my part, at the time, that I didn't actually sink into a depressive spiral where I dwelt on how bleak my prospects seemed, how unable I was to fulfill my responsibilities with even basic competence, how unfair the situation was, how little people cared (e.g. someone anonymously left a nasty note after I made a fatigue-induced error in not properly compensating for partly malfunctioning equipment that whoever made that error wasn't fit for the role and should just quit), how badly I'm being let down by the doctors. Now I know enough to recognize a depressive spiral, but back then it was, as far as I can tell, just dumb luck that my natural response to being frustrated and upset was to brainstorm.

I felt the pressure to not show that things were getting to me. Man up! Never mind that you can hardly move. Man up! But I didn't need anyone else, it turned out: I only needed to be open with myself.

"NO, NO!" my feelings would scream. "We wanna do what we wanna do!" Yeah, but that requires, you know, being able to stay on your feet for more than like ten minutes. Let's brainstorm. Can you type? What good can you do if all you can do is type? Yeah, not what we wanted, I got that. But can you take it? Can you man up and take it?

It would have been okay if the answer had been, at that point, "No, I can't take that."

But the answer wasn't no. It was yes. I could take it, if I had to. If I really needed to, I'd have the strength to give up something dear to me. I'd be disappointed. But I'd be okay.

I gave myself the chance to see that. I don't think there's any particular shame in not finding any alternatives are tolerable if Plan A gets messed up by factors beyond one's control.

But there is something to be said for giving oneself permission to honestly consider Plans B, C, D, and so on, and being open enough with yourself to admit that Plan B really is quite a bit worse than Plan A, but you have the fortitude to take it. Not fake-take-it but be dying inside. Genuinely: yeah, this is totally not the best, and I'm going to try to avoid it for as long as I can; and yet, if that's what I'm called to do, I totally can handle it (at least while looking for Plan A').

Counterpoint Two: ask palm trees for coconuts, not caviar

It's a very old complaint about men by women that when women want sympathy, men come up with solutions. It's a very reasonable complaint, since a lot of times women know perfectly well what the solution is (or don't, but have a way better idea of what the constraints are than the man they're talking to), and what they want is support for the emotional burden of having to go for that solution (or having to solve difficult constraints).

It's amusingly (if a little uncharitably) exemplified in the movie "White Men Can't Jump".

Gloria: "Honey, I'm thirsty."

Billy brings Gloria a glass of water

Gloria: "[that] doesn't mean I want you to bring me a glass of water! [...] I want you to connect with me through sharing and understanding the concept of dry-mouthedness!"

Okay, but what if all your friends are Billy? They're only going to bring you a glass of water. That's what they do. Mask up, mask down, doesn't matter.

If all your friends are palm trees, you might get coconuts from them, you might get dates, but you're probably not getting any caviar, even if caviar is what you actually need the most.

One solution is to connect with different people, people who know what to do with "mask down": how to give the kind of support someone needs who is exposing their vulnerability.

But the fallback solution, which shouldn't be entirely discounted, is to expose through the mask those things that are most clearly problem-shaped.

Sometimes people actually do come up with solutions that help. And even if it's not the main thing, it's not most of it, it can lighten up the pressure a bit, make the rest easier to deal with.

"Yeah, man, I get that too--I wake up in the middle of the night, thinking of all the problems that are impossible to solve in the middle of the night. Dumb, right? Haha. So, I got one of those white noise machines. Helped me sleep through to morning. Maybe it'd work for you too?"

Even if the problem doesn't have a solution, talking through the frustration of problems that are shaped like they might have a solution in principle may well be a more rewarding experience when you're talking to traditionally-socialized guys than an attempt at a deeper heart-to-heart.

Counterpoint Three: that's my best face, not my mask

In a culture seething with commercially-driven duplicity, authenticity is rightfully valued.

So it's easy to interpret hiding one's feelings as putting up a mask. You don't know the real me. It's not the authentic me. And that's bad.

But honestly, a lot of our problems are our problems. Nobody else can really help. It doesn't help them to know the specifics, just like it doesn't help to see the horrible scrapes all over your legs if you come off your bike while wearing shorts. If you don't need medical attention (and it's okay if you do!), wear pants until you're healed up. It looks alarming, we get worried, and the worry is pointless because we can't actually heal you, and you're not going to die of infection either because we have antibiotics now.

Being in a sea of people with transparent problems is depressing. I don't know why it should be that way. We all have problems, of course. Wouldn't it have been more optimal in some sense if we were all emotionally comfortable with that? But it doesn't look very much like that's what evolution gave us. Well, heck.

Now, it's a big problem if people feel like the have to wear the mask of "I'm fine, everything's super-awesome" while they're dying inside. It needs to be okay to get help, especially from people we're close to.

But positivity is infectious. Optimism lowers stress. Even with people we're close to.

And so putting a good face on things is a gift you can give others. They've got challenges. You've got challenges. But they've got successes and hopes and excitement and all, and you do too. There isn't time to share all of it. What do you pick?

If people never share or talk about the challenges, they don't get met, problems get worse. That's bad. But it's hard to watch or read the news without thinking, "Gosh, this is all so negative--I'm glad my everyday life isn't like that."

So there's a balance. (Isn't there always a balance?) It needs to be okay to not be okay. Problems need to be addressed. But when we can gift each other with putting a good face on things--not a lying face, just an optimistic one--we end up lifting each other up rather than dragging each other down.

To be honest, I have a terrible time with this one myself. I tend towards a sort of dourly pessimistic humor when it comes to general outlook. But I recognize that this is bad: it's a sort of instinctive psychological defensive mechanism, I think, to prevent myself from getting my hopes up too much (Hi, MJ! I totally get you!). But do I really need that? Probably not. I could give more gifts. They are gifts: people shouldn't expect or demand them. Nonetheless, it's a nice thing you can do, and setting the genuine niceness of it against the specter of inauthenticity and the danger of being overwhelmed by private anguish is a good idea.

Indeed, it should even make it a little easier to seek help when you need it, if you give yourself credit for all the times you've brightened someone else's day by putting on your best face.

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I totally agree with your main points: vulnerability needs to be okay, seeking help needs to be okay, and reaching out to see if your friends and loved ones are okay is a wonderful and in some cases possibly even life-saving gesture.

(Reiteration: humans are a highly social species! We are supposed to help each other! If things seem really really bad or hopeless, ask for help! What is the point of being a social primate if you can't get help when things are hard or bad?!)

But there are some upsides to parts of the other way to do things, and I don't think it hurts to appreciate those too without negating the main points.

Finally--good luck! You have chosen a path that's too hard for me, and gotten farther than I ever would. I hope wherever your road takes you, and whatever help you need on the way, it's a mostly a good journey, and your considerable talents (talent as a writer clearly on display in your article, by the way!) benefit both you and everyone else. I wish you and your family the best.