We've all been there. You screwed up, you knew it, and you felt terrible about it.

The mistake itself is painful enough. You're already replaying it in your mind, beating yourself up, feeling the weight of disappointment and shame. You don't need anyone to tell you that you messed up—you're acutely aware.

And then someone calls you out. Having our worst moment highlighted and used against us. Being defined by our failure rather than given space to grow from it.

It's easy to blame your dad.

Once men start to reflect on who they've become, it's almost impossible not to reflect on their primary role model.

The awareness hits like a freight train. You're in your thirties, forties, or fifties, and suddenly you're connecting the dots between your dad's emotional distance and your own struggles with intimacy.

Once you see the impact of the person who raised you, it's hard to unsee it.

And once you see it, it's even harder not to be angry about it. Why didn't he know better? Why didn't he do better? Why did he pass on these limiting beliefs about what it means to be a man? The cycle is repeating, and it feels like his fault.

You've built an impressive life. From the outside, everything looks successful. You have the career, the family, the life that everyone said you should want. People see you as someone who has it all together.

But inside? You're exhausted from performing.

Every morning, you put on the mask.

You've noticed things aren't working anymore.

The strategies that got you through life - pushing forward, staying busy, keeping emotions at bay - have stopped being effective. Relationships feel strained. Your partner says you're "emotionally unavailable." Your kids seem distant. Work success isn't bringing the satisfaction it once did. You're questioning yourself in ways you never have before.

Maybe you've had a significant life event - a divorce, a career setback, a health scare - that's forced you to pause.

You look around and wonder: "Is this it? Is this all there is?"

Here's something that will blow your mind:

"Crazy Train" is a disco song. 🎶

That's right, the most recognizable heavy metal anthem—Ozzy Osbourne's headbanging classic—has a distinctly disco rhythm section, according to the hosts of the One Song podcast. And if you've seen the live version of ABBA's "Mamma Mia", they reference the Crazy Train guitar riff in their own disco-heavy performance.

It reminds me that how we see the world is often not the same as the world itself.

Here's what they don't tell you about the modern man's relationship with work:

It's not all about ambition or career advancement.

Sometimes it’s about avoiding the messy, unpredictable complexity of real life, and the exhausting vulnerability that comes with authentic relationships.

Here's what they don't tell you about perfection:

It's not actually about achieving excellence.

It's about avoiding the anxiety of being human, and the exhausting performance that comes with it.

Picture the most isolated professional you've ever met. Someone carrying the weight of their clients' stories, processing trauma day after day, making life-altering decisions in therapy sessions. Every challenge feels insurmountable. Every setback feels personal. Every difficult case becomes a referendum on their competence.

This is what happens when mental health professionals try to do this work in isolation.

It doesn't have to be this way.

The human mind is a curious thing. It collects voices like a radio collector gathers vintage sets, storing them away for moments when clarity seems impossible to find.

But here's what most people don't realize: the voice offering you guidance in your most crucial moments might not actually be yours.

Here's something that will make you uncomfortable: Your stability might be the very thing destroying your relationships.

This insight cuts to the heart of why so many relationships spiral into patterns of resentment and disconnection.

When you are stable, you enable.

There is a power dynamic that shows up uninvited to every dinner conversation, every decision about money, every moment when someone needs to be right and someone else needs to keep the peace.

Therapists have a name for what most of us are doing without realizing it:

One up and one down.

Here's what's interesting: we think this is natural. We think it's just how things work.

It's not.