Why it’s important for men to reach out for support

by Alexander Dickinson

It can be quite intimidating for men to open up to someone they don’t know.

In April 2000, my family’s world changed forever when my seven-year-old son George died, without warning, from a brain aneurysm.

Many men are not brought up to speak openly about things that upset them. That’s probably something that's gone through generations of men - my generation, my father’s generation and even my thirty-year-old son’s generation to some extent.

The result is it can be quite intimidating for men to open up to someone they don’t know and they may not understand how to speak to somebody in situations like bereavement. It seems to be part of men’s DNA that says ‘don’t cry when you graze your knee, hold in your emotions.’ It may only be those who are at school now who are more open with their feelings and maybe know how to deal with these kinds of issues.

What people perhaps need to recognise is that a grieving man may want help but not know it, and you may be able to help even though you might not realise it. The tricky thing is, how do you do that in a sympathetic way?  I think you need to want to have help before you can benefit from it. It has to be, if not your idea, certainly a process that you are driving. And I think that's a difficult thing; my reaction to somebody saying ‘you must do this, you must do that’ is usually to do the opposite!

What bereaved men often need is someone who, in the right way at the right time, suggests that they might be able to help you, but leaves you the time and space to take that up. If you see somebody who might need help, they probably do. How you give them that help is very much up to your relationship with them, the sort of person you are, the sort of person they are. It’s how to use the gentle art of suggestion rather than persuasion. 

I was lucky that I had someone who told me about Child Bereavement UK. The benefits of support were enormous because in essence it allowed me to completely strip myself back, to open myself up, and begin to grip the issues I was having to address.

The support I had helped me to begin to understand things; it helped me to read things myself and identify what I was going through, to understand what my ex-wife was going through and my son, that we were all in completely different places and that was why there was such a lot of anger and upset. Support changed my life, it really did - I can say that without a shadow of doubt in my mind.

It would take several days just to prepare for and then recover from a one-hour support session but, as it went on, I gradually felt better able to manage myself and my emotions and to separate that side of my life from the everyday side of my life.

I don’t know how I managed to achieve that but I knew I had to compartmentalise if I was going to find a way forward. Having compartmentalised, I saw support as an important step in my recovery, just as I saw having goals and objectives in my work as an important part of rebuilding my career. 

My philosophy is that at some point you have to turn from mourning to celebrating all the good things rather than mourning what didn’t happen. It doesn't mean you’re heartless; it doesn't mean I won't burst into tears on an important occasion, it doesn't mean that if I’m watching a film in which somebody dies then I won't be over-emotional, but I've always looked at it as ‘celebrate all the good things you had instead of the things you didn’t have’. It’s impossible to do at first but it comes with time and you have to come to that conclusion yourself.

My advice to other bereaved fathers is you can’t do it all in one go, take it one day at a time. Just take your time and you will get there, but get help on the way, you can't do it on your own. My grief still comes back but now it brings me closer to George, so it is not something from which I shy away. It is my grief but I am no longer afraid of it, as I was in those dark weeks after George died.

Talking has been so important to me. I welcome questions about how I am. Just be normal with me. I’m still Alexander. I was Alexander before George died and I’m Alexander now. I’ve gone through something horrific, but I’m still the same person. Please don't feel the need to tiptoe around me or the topic of my grief. As Albert Camus said, 'Don't walk in front of me. I may not follow. Don't walk behind me. I may not lead. Walk beside me. Just be my friend.

Alexander has also shared his experience of bereavement and support from Child Bereavement UK.

Alexander is a Patron of Child Bereavement UK, visit his Patron's page to find out more. 

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