Kevin is so funny, kind, deep and thoughtful. I learned all of this about him within the first session. Actually, within the first few minutes of that first session. He had a solid bead on the world around him, and on high school kids around his age. But that’s not the first impression I got of Kevin. Coming into my office, reluctantly, for the first session, Kevin looked thin, slumped and weary. He was ashen and spoke only enough to stay on this side of polite. He emitted the vibe of a middle-aged guy who had given up on himself and decided he would settle for whatever his lot in life left him with, as mediocre as it all seemed. It was difficult to determine how a guy could read so burdened and taxed out at 17.
Kevin is awesome. He’s a delightful guy and, despite all of the above, I look forward to seeing him every week. I appreciate his depth. I learn from his endless well of empathy. I have the privilege of laughing with a guy I’m fairly certain nobody else even registers.
But even when I reflect it back to him, Kevin accepts none of that. Kevin loathes himself.
Through bias confirming TikTok videos and comparisons to friends and strangers in the halls between classes, Kevin determined that he was depressed and anxious, moderate-to-severe in both. He presented his diagnostic conclusions to me early in the first session, and he was not asking for my opinion. He had already decided.
He knew for certain what he was suffering. And his concerns ran deep. He was uncertain he could make it through academically to a successful life. Adulting seemed ominous, as his dad complained about his dead-end job as he watched TV and drank until he fell asleep, alone and dreading tomorrow without editing.
And given he was so encumbered emotionally, Kevin had determined he was enfeebled and incapable of engaging in the world without help. For him, that help came in the way of a myriad of coping mechanisms: prescription bottles for Zoloft, Xanax and Adderall within reach. Video games and pornography that kept him safely tucked in his room or his basement. Weed in all it’s forms surrounding him at all times. Pajamas and blankets suggesting a young boy, not a burgeoning man.
Kevin’s concerns were immediate. The mechanisms were intended to pass time through the day, today. He had no designs on a bright and promising future. He really had no designs on a future at all.
He exhibited what I have come to call “passive suicidality.” Kevin had no intention of taking his life. In fact, he told me he didn’t think he possessed the energy or, frankly, the courage that would take.
But he did tell me that if a bus hit him walking out of my office building, that would be okay with him, no biggie, a shrug. He truly believed he was a burden on his family and friends. And on the whole, though he carried a great deal of empathy for other people who might be suffering or struggling in most any way, he did not feel he was valuable. He was not in any way necessary. Quite the contrary: to Kevin’s thinking, he was a drain.
So over time, Kevin starts to disengage from his life. He smokes weed, or vapes THC, or swallows up gummies and other edibles consistently throughout the day. A formerly promising track star, he stopped running altogether. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself, and his vision of the past is clouded by depression and anxiety much like his vision of the future.
Kevin disappeared from his friend group, and they eventually became frustrated and discouraged enough to tap out from him as well. His SnapChat activity dwindled. Texts came in only on occasion. And Kevin admitted to me that he is terrified to talk to girls, especially girls he’s attracted to. In an effort to ease this anxiety, I told him that was normal, the excitement and butterflies of romantic interest and potential intimacy. I wanted him to know this was a good thing to feel, a sign of life he was dismissing.
But he was undeterred. Having watched pornography for nearly a decade, he feared his meter of attraction was poorly calibrated. He feared he might be gay because he no longer experienced a physical response to attractive girls or boys, for that matter. He feared that he would be unable to perform like a porn star once he found an intimate connection.
Kevin felt hopeless. A man down.
And I have worked with dozens upon dozens of guys who present just like Kevin over the course of the last several years.
In 25 years of practice, this phenomenon amid our teenage boys and young men is perhaps the most heartbreaking I’ve had to treat, and among the most resistant to help. It’s also among the most alarming combination of symptoms I’ve worked with. It’s come on fast and infected an unusually high number of our boys and, in my experience, very few if any of our girls.
So, why is this happening to our guys?
Well, I think it’s a terrible storm that has enveloped our boys rather suddenly. Weed has become readily available to them in all of its delivery systems, and their armchair research suggests to many of our guys that it’s a safe drug, and a pretty solid anti-anxiety agent. And honestly, I don’t necessarily think they’re wrong. Porn has become readily available to our boys, and many confess to watching hours of it a day, sometimes well into the night, driving them away from intimate connections. Ten years ago, teenage boys talked about girls or boys they’re interested in. Now, that’s almost never a part of the discussion. And this fear of intimacy and connection freak me out more than almost any other element of this boy problem. Because all of our young people, girls, boys, and everyone else, are certain to be affected by this unless we find some way to correct it.
Along with all of this, YouTube, TikTok, Reddit and other online mechanisms have made our boys more aware of emotional difficulties than they ever have been before, and they identify themselves with these issues – they are self-defining. They don’t want what they see as the joyless, disconnected, purpose-free lives of their fathers and other men in their orbit, so instead of adulting, they regress. Better to lay on this couch playing Legends of Zelda than studying to become a lifeless actuary.
So why are all of these variables affecting our boys and not our girls?
Our girls have hope, the commodity most lacking in our boys these days. Through the #MeToo movement to the cracks in the glass ceiling, they can see a bright future despite experiencing all of the predictable adolescent difficulties in life.
Also, our boys tell me they’ve learned they are unacceptable largely because they are boys. Many have asked me if they’re toxic, as this is the word they most hear associated with masculinity. They point out frequently that their “boyhood” has been medicated out of them for years, the energy and mobility of boyhood tamped down by a class of drugs effectively shaming boys for eliciting behavior natural to them. Few of our girls carry such a burden.
So what do we do now?
The answers here are complicated, but in the end, your guy needs you to light up for him. He needs to know that you love him unconditionally despite anything he may feel about himself. I know this may seem trite and stale, but believe me, it is critical. Many boys tell me nobody lights up for them, ever. Thus the self-loathing. Show him what you see in him. This is the most important part of the solution. Love him. Love him even if he’s driving you crazy.
If you see your guy in this post, know you are not alone, and neither is he. There are ways through all of this. I recently published a book called “Rescuing Our Sons” that will provide you a guide toward solutions that are hopeful and effective. Order it. Read it. Find hope for yourself and your son.
You can purchase Rescuing Our Sons here: https://www.amazon.com/Rescuing-Our-Sons-Disaffected-Psychologists/dp/1684813689
Cheers,
John