Becoming the Man That You Needed.
“Boys don’t need a hero. They need someone to stay.”
– Laurence H Johns
Most of us were raised by ghosts.
Fathers who weren’t there.
Or were there in body but not in soul.
Mothers who were stretched thin, trying to do both roles in a world that honoured neither.
We got fragments. Glimpses.
A moment of presence between outbursts.
A smile behind exhaustion.
Or worse - nothing. Just silence, and a child learning to survive it.
So we became men the way wild dogs become hunters - by necessity, not guidance.
We learned by absence.
And it left a shape in us.
Not a clear sense of who we were - but a jagged outline of who we should have had.
Now here we are. Grown. Built. Outwardly successful. Inwardly still aching for something we can't name.
This blog is about naming it.
And becoming it.
Because no one else is coming.
The Father-Shaped Hole
Most of us carry a hole in our psyche shaped like a man we never met.
Maybe he was your dad.
Maybe he was a big brother, a mentor, a coach, a man who could’ve said, “You’ve got this” and made it stick.
The hole isn't just emotional - it's archetypal.
It’s the gap between who you were and who you needed to see.
It’s the space where structure, discipline, belief, and love should have lived.
So we went looking for him.
In porn.
In bosses.
In gangs.
In hard-earned muscles and harder-earned money.
In women we hoped would love us like fathers never did.
None of it filled the hole.
Because what we really needed was a mirror - a man who had been through the fire and could say, “This is how you do it. This is how you hold your centre. This is how you carry the weight without letting it crush you.”
And since he never came, the task is simple:
Become him.
Why It’s Easier to Repeat Than Repair
Without initiation, boys become men by imitation.
We copy the strongest shape in the room, even if it’s hollow.
So if your father raged, you rage.
If he disappeared, you disappear.
If he worked himself into the ground and called it love, so do you.
We repeat what we didn’t repair.
Because repairing means pain. And facing pain takes more courage than most men are taught to wield.
But here’s the twist:
You already know what you needed.
You’ve been carrying that knowledge your whole life.
You knew when you were eight and sat alone after the divorce.
You knew when you got bullied and no one showed up.
You knew when your hands shook and no one noticed.
That knowing? That’s your blueprint.
It’s not just a record of what was missing.
It’s a map of who you’re meant to become.
The Emotional Turning Point: He’s Not Coming. And That’s a Gift.
There is grief in this. Let’s not pretend otherwise.
The man you needed isn’t showing up at 42 with a cup of tea and an apology.
The apology may never come. The understanding may never arrive.
You may never hear the words, “I see you, son.”
Let that hurt. Let it burn.
And then:
Realise that this is your moment.
The same absence that broke you can now become the space you fill with strength.
You are no longer the child.
You are the architect. The container. The answer.
You are the man you were waiting for.
And that man doesn’t need to be perfect.
He just needs to be present.
What Does Becoming That Man Look Like?
It looks like:
Sitting with your fear instead of avoiding it.
Holding your ground when everything in you wants to run.
Speaking to your own inner child with the same love you would give a son.
Showing up for others, not as a saviour, but as a witness - steadfast and honest.
Forgiving the men who failed you. Not for them. For you.
Becoming the man you needed is not a one-time declaration.
It’s a thousand choices, made in silence, when no one is watching.
It’s in the way you treat your partner when you’re tired.
The way you handle money.
The way you show up when your friend breaks down and the room goes quiet.
It’s not sexy. It’s sacred.
The Real-World Task: Write to the Boy
Tonight, when the noise dies down and you’re alone, grab a pen and paper.
Write a letter - not from the boy inside you, but to him.
Start with:
"I see you. I know what you went through. I am the man you’ve been waiting for. And here’s what I promise you…”
Finish the letter.
Then fold it. Keep it somewhere close.
Every time you want to quit, to rage, to run - read it again.
Let him remind you of what’s at stake.
Reflective Exercise: Who Did You Need?
Answer these in your journal:
What did I need most from a father figure that I didn’t get?
When did I first realise I had to do this alone?
What part of me still believes he might show up one day?
What traits do I wish I had been taught—and how can I start embodying them now?
Who in my life today needs me to be that man?
This isn’t a thought exercise. It’s a reckoning. Show up.
Reading List:
Iron John – Robert Bly
Father Hunger – Margo Maine
The Drama of the Gifted Child – Alice Miller
Absent Fathers, Lost Sons – Guy Corneau
Wild at Heart – John Eldredge
You can’t change the past.
You can’t re-run the film and add the father you needed.
But you can write a new script.
You can choose to be the man who walks into the fire instead of running from it.
The man who heals by holding.
The man who doesn't need to be needed to show up.
You can become the man that boy needed.
And when you do,
you’ll realise:
He’s been waiting for you all along.
We’re in this together.
