Don’t Just Reach for an Arm — Build a Network of Support

I am a part of a men’s breath work group. It is a belief of mine that men need to learn to love and support each other. It is a key part of overcoming a lot of harm our society experiences. Men are often socialized to isolate and bear the burden of fixing things alone, either because they mistrust others or because they do not believe most people care. If they are lucky, they believe their partner cares, or they have a person to lean on.

But often, they bear it alone.
And that doesn’t seem to be working.

This men’s group is part of my belief in how we start to shift that narrative, to move the needle, to become a better world. Recently, after we concluded the primary breath work practice, one of the men had a welling of emotion, and sought a hug. That hug lingered. His vulnerability created a quiet pause. Another man asked “Can I get in on this?” and joined to support the first man. Then another man came over and quietly wrapped his arms around the three. The quiet in the room was profound as man after man came over for us all to hold the first man, and also to hold each other.

Breath synchronized, and I swear, so did our heartbeats.

Pull back, and imagine this, a room full of a dozen or so men, standing in quiet, loving, grounding embrace, showing we cared what was going on with this one man, and the way we all were him. We held each other in love. Not bro hugs, but full, loving, strong embraces that nurtured each and every one of us.

This moment reminded me of the importance of having a support net — not reaching for just one arm. What I witnessed that night wasn’t just a hug. It was a net being woven in real time.

Often, people are looking for their person, the one person who can hold them in their vulnerability. With men, often that is often a single partner. But what happens when that one person isn’t available — not because they don’t care, but because they’re exhausted, unreachable, or hurt themselves?

I call this reaching for an arm.

I believe in the value of deeply connected relationships and partnerships. I also see how when a deeply connected relationship becomes the sole source of support for either of the people in that dyad, it strains the relationship — romantic or platonic — that can exhaust the ability of the supporting person to provide support, or the faith of the person in need to believe that support can exist. When that person fails to show up, it can feed into a narrative that the help we need doesn’t exist. When we only ask for help in critical moments — and it doesn’t come — it can prime our nervous systems to believe that help is never available.

There are other implications here, including, in romantic relationships, the relationship transitioning away from romantic love and into endurance, obligation, or resentment. While it might be obvious why the supporting partner would feel that way, the partner who needs support may also feel obligated to only reach out to their “person” even when they recognize the lack of resource their person may have. This burden isn’t fair to either partner — or the relationship itself.

This is why I believe we need to really understand the value of a net. Of knowing that you can fall, and you will be caught, because there isn’t just one person standing at the top of the cliff who you are hoping can grab your arm. Instead, there’s a swath of people who can catch you.

In my network now, I have the privilege of having several people I feel deeply connected to, whom I can reach out to when I am struggling. I don’t reach out to the same one every time. And sometimes, none of them are available, or I am in a place where I think it is better not to bring it to them yet. In those cases, I have communities I can reach out to and say “I am struggling.” I trust these communities enough that I don’t need to know the person who responds. I can trust that they will hold space, and I can reach out again if I need to.

When I do turn to those closest to me, I’m not asking them to carry the full weight — just to walk with me. The weight of support doesn’t fall on those connections, so they are able to be present in a different way for the experiences I have.

This kind of weaving strengthens my sense of being held — even when I’m alone.

And when help isn’t available in a given instance, my world doesn’t crumble.

I think about this recent experience, and how it firmly embodied the importance of having a net. Because when we held him, we held something in all of us — the part that longs to be met and reminded we’re not alone.

Who’s in your net? And where might you begin to weave one?