Mental Health and Male Silence: What I Don’t Say (But Sometimes Shoot)

There’s a silence that lives in a lot of men. It’s not peaceful. It’s not serene. It’s the kind that hums in the background like a dodgy fridge—always there, slightly irritating, and occasionally threatening to break down altogether.

We’re not exactly encouraged to talk, are we? Somewhere between “man up” and “crack on,” many of the male role models we grew up with were stoic, macho, and had less emotional range than a box of rocks. Thankfully, the tide is turning—but still, most of us learned to power through whatever storm we’re quietly drowning in. Grief? Stress? Overwhelm? Slap on a half-smile, make a sarcastic joke, and keep it moving. Bonus points if you can change the subject with a well-timed fart joke.

But here’s the thing. While I might not always say what’s going on in my head, I’ve found a way to show it. And that’s through a camera lens.

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The Camera Doesn’t Flinch

I didn’t pick up a camera to fix myself. I picked it up because something about it just made sense. Out there, wandering the streets of Southampton, chasing light and trying to frame a feeling—it gave me space.

Space to breathe.

Space to feel things I’d buried under shift work, responsibility, and the classic British habit of keeping your emotional range limited to “alright” and “not bad, considering.”

Some days, I don’t even know what I’m looking for until I see it:

A laugh between strangers.

A man hunched over his coffee like it’s the only thing holding him up.

A kid staring up at a pigeon like it’s the CEO of the sky.

Moments like that speak louder than anything I could say out loud—and more honestly, too.

Photography reminds me—just like mental health—it’s not about perfection. It’s about progress. Tiny, often unseen, but meaningful steps forward. It’s not about chasing misery or even trying to photograph sadness. It’s about seeing the raw, unfiltered, beautiful truth in anymoment.

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A Note on Gender (Before Anyone Jumps Me)

This isn’t about ignoring women’s mental health. Not at all. We’re all travellers on the same messy, complicated road. But as blokes, we’ve still got further to go when it comes to opening up.

And if we’re smart, we’ll admit we’ve got a lot to learn from the women in our lives—especially when it comes to emotional fluency and the courage to be seen.

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Let’s Talk About It (Or at Least Nod at It)

I’m not pretending I’ve got it all figured out. Half the time, I still default to “I’m fine” when I’m anything but. But I’m learning to show up a bit more. To notice what I’m feeling instead of pushing it aside like a dodgy takeaway menu.

Sometimes, sharing that is as simple as sharing a photo.

Photography lets me talk without talking. It gives me a voice—even on days I’d rather stay quiet.

I’m also learning to be comfortable with who I am. And despite any faults I have (and there are many—trust me), I don’t need to twist myself to fit anyone else’s idea of who I should be.

Apparently, there’s a name for this: differentiation of self—balancing closeness with autonomy, staying connected without being consumed.

It doesn’t make me better than anyone else. But it might just help me feel better in myself.

As long as I keep turning up and keep trying, I can truly ask no more of myself. That’s key.

What’s also key is this: no one has the right to put expectations on me that I didn’t agree to. I’m not under any obligation to become the person someone else thinks I should be.

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And Yes, Pigeons Help Too

There’s a pigeon that struts around the high street like it owns the joint. Zero shame. Pure presence. I’ve seen it so often I’m tempted to give it a name and its own section on my portfolio.

But in all seriousness, there’s something grounding about birds that don’t care if you’re overthinking, under-sleeping, or emotionally constipated. They just exist. They just are. And that, in a weird way, gives me permission to do the same.

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Final Thoughts (No Hashtags Required)

I’m not here to sell you a miracle cure. I’m not qualified. I’m just a guy with a camera, a tendency to overthink, and a deep belief that the things we don’t say can still be shared—through images, through connection, and sometimes through a pigeon staring judgmentally into your soul.

So if you’re a man carrying more than you let on, this is your gentle nudge:

Talk.

Walk.

Write.

Sing.

Shout into a pillow.

Or take photos of strangers and birds like I do.

Whatever works.

Just don’t carry it all in silence