The traditional masculine image of the self sufficient, tough, resilient man is deeply ingrained in society. Dominant social norms have a considerable impact on the way in which men interact with others, and ultimately – how they view themselves. At school, boys are encouraged to develop in polarity to girls. As girls are expected to be more sympathetic and expressive, so – boys are discouraged from exhibiting such traits. Those that do are vulnerable to ridicule.

There are certain rules to being a man. Off the playing field, it can be difficult to equate emotion with masculinity. Sure, we’ve all seen Beckham cry. If it’s good enough for Peter Andre, then it’s good enough for Gordon Brown. The One Show recently took to the streets to ask women’s opinions on men who dare to shed a tear in public. It was all very light hearted; they even had a Nolan professing to be heart broken when faced with a real man crying. In the interests of balance, the program makers included arguably more old fashioned views that men who cry are unattractive, and appear weak. Regardless of this appearing to be the minority view, it stayed with me, and mirrored what I had often felt growing up.

I like to think I’m self reliant. I am stubborn, and I will attempt to find solutions myself before asking for help. I’m loathed to admit that I fall into a cliché, but yeah – I’m a man, and I’m pretty sure I know best. Perhaps this is why men have been found to visit the doctor half as much as women. A recent survey by MIND found that less than a quarter of men would see their GP if they felt low for more than two weeks, and 35% of men consider counselling is only for “very serious problems”. When men do seek help, they are much less likely to discuss emotional problems, and tend to focus on physical issues instead.

I had my first panic attack at university, over ten years ago. I was sure that this had to be something else, and so treated the symptoms of my anxiety as separate issues, ignoring the core problem. I was an anxious child; I found it difficult to interact. I would try to work out what I was supposed to say, and then when I finally got the confidence to raise my voice, the moment would have passed. I worried about how I was viewed, and was convinced that everyone was okay, apart from me.

I used to view having mental health problems as being indicative of weakness, and therefore, having the ability to maintain some kind of composure somehow reinforced my manliness. However, it took courage for me to ask for help. I felt like facing up to anything would be an admission of failure, and I certainly didn’t feel any encouragement to come forward (at least, not with my masculinity intact).

When I was first diagnosed with anxiety at 21, the labelling of my condition and a new focus on recovery brought little relief. My first point of contact was my local GP, who to be fair, was very sympathetic and put my concerns into perspective, but I began to feel a little intimidated with my surroundings. I was given a series of appointments with a female counsellor; again, this initially allayed my distress. However, a sense of alienation took hold; in my surgery there seemed to be little information designed with me in mind.

In my eyes I was alone, or there were fellow sufferers who were keeping quiet. And there must be a reason for this. I craved normality, yet I believed that it was unobtainable. I was sure that my condition would be viewed as being weird; I didn’t much like the idea of being perceived as a madman. Negative attitudes towards mental health continue, and this only goes to compound embarrassment.

When I was at my lowest ebb, accepting there was a problem was daunting. Simply – I felt I had no one to talk to; I just wanted to know that I wasn’t alone. I was able to convince myself that I was okay for a while, but I began to act out - being disruptive and anti social. For many men, this primal reaction can lead to self destructive behaviour. It can also concentrate focus on these negative reactions to distress, the source of the problems being lost.

The flipside to this plays an equally damaging role. When you are ill, there is a tendency to lock yourself away and disappear from society. My reaction was to step back from the limelight, and I withdrew from my peers. When I finally approached close friends, they displayed empathy for my situation, but initially there was some insensitivity from some of my social networks. I was told to pull myself together, and as a result, I was reluctant to attempt any further social bonding. I felt like an embarrassment to my family, having let them down. I also felt like a bit of a fraud.

We are conditioned to behave in certain ways, and this is only reaffirmed by our peers, and the way in which we view the world. The portrayal of men in the media and the way in which we interact with other men compounds the notion that emotional or confessional conversations are somehow inappropriate.

The polarisation of men and women’s behaviour continues throughout life. Disclosure may be the female disposition, but this is not to say that men do not connect, or develop meaningful relationships. It is a commonly held myth that men are simply unable to communicate. Sure, we sometimes live up to the stereotype, but male friendships are unique and it is easy to dismiss them as lacking in depth. They are often based around team activities, providing a sense of self worth, and boosting self esteem. This can be a way of channelling aggression, and provide focus and motivation.

It’s evident that men have different coping strategies for dealing with mental distress than women, and drugs and alcohol are common routes to take. Whilst going to the pub can appear social, and positive, self medication can quickly turn problematic. My drug of choice was cannabis, but I also became fond of cocaine and amphetamines.

I found one to one counselling to be ineffective, and took solace in Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT). I was encouraged to face up to my fears, and looked at thought patterns, and how these contributed to my anxiety. Talking therapies that focus on action and behaviour rather than root causes, or looking at past events can be easier for men to engage with. When treatments call for men to express their emotions, framing these emotions as an expansion of masculine traits can aid progression. CBT aims at emphasising goals, outcomes and productivity and is a different approach from other forms of therapy which arguably do not compliment the way in which men interact.

The unique way in which this interaction takes place, and the preferred methods of support for men can assist in the production of more effective health services. When I was looking for help, the two most important factors were anonymity, and having access to a pool of online resources. Computerised CBT programmes go some way into providing a place for men to get support. Forums, social networking sites, and charities also provide vital services. The Campaign Against Living Miserably (CALM) is a charity designed specifically with the needs of young men in mind, and I found organisations such as nomorepanic and MIND invaluable.

In 2007, I attempted to start a new career in London - a last ditch attempt to fit into what I considered to be social convention. I found it increasingly difficult to operate within such a structured environment, and one day reached breaking point and walked out. A job can bring value and a sense of identity. When the assured social position of a job title goes, redundancy can affect a man's image. I began to crumble, and soon got into debt. This added to my stress, and I entered a vicious circle. I was soon just surviving – existing.

In the past, my way of coping at work has been to keep quiet. My distress has taken many forms – the phone call into the office explaining this week’s illness was often taken at face value, but maintaining this facade was problematic. Although friends were supportive, some colleagues were unsympathetic, and so survival instinct took over. When it became seemingly impossible to disclose any vulnerability, and the stiff upper lip began to show cracks, I would move onto a new position with a new company.

When mental health treatments are examined, the ways in which men interact need to be addressed. The myth of the unemotional man is taken as a given, and so the onus is put on encouraging men to open up and get in touch with their feminine side. This does not take the subtleties of masculinity into consideration; if services do not communicate in a way that is going to be receptive, arguably they are failing at the first hurdle.

For a long time, I never really accepted that I had a mental health issue. I have always been part of the group that lays on the bravado, like many groups of young men. We tend to stigmatise these problems more than any other age group, and are conditioned to act in certain ways which sometimes, are not in our interests. However, in looking at ways in which we can move forward, I believe it is important to focus on the very traits that define our masculinity. By doing so, we can adapt the way in which we seek help, and service providers can get a better idea of what is appropriate when setting out guidelines.