A Life of Adventure and Disconnection
My life has always been a mix of exploration and introspection. Growing up in Ottawa, I was the kid everyone liked—athletic, high-achieving—but often fading into the background. I moved to China in my early 20s, seeking to find myself, and I discovered a deep love for teaching children and immersing myself in different cultures. I embraced adventure, feeling alive, free, and I was driven by purpose.
But lingering in the background of all that adventure was a struggle I hadn’t fully recognized. Coming back to Canada and stepping into adulthood brought responsibilities, stability, and a career—all things that seemed to clash with the freedom I had cherished. Life in my 30s felt different. It wasn’t about travel or adventure anymore; it was about mortgage payments, career struggles, and trying to fit into the mold of who I thought I should be. And that’s when the cracks started to show.
A Mask for the World, Pain Inside
For much of my adult life, I wrestled with an inner pain that I kept hidden. Outwardly, I was the happy, carefree guy who had lived abroad, with amazing stories and the appearance of having it all figured out. But in reality, I faced dark periods of depression that could last for months, leaving me feeling withdrawn and disconnected from family, friends, and the world. I felt the weight of being the person people expected—strong, happy, always “on.” This pressure to keep up appearances only deepened my sense of disconnection from others and, more importantly, from myself.
Marriage during this period offered little relief. I tried to make it work, hoping it might provide the stability I was looking for. When it ended, I initially felt free, ready to restart my life. Through that experience, I realized true stability couldn’t come from external circumstances alone—it had to start within. For a while, I felt like I was soaring again, but then I crashed. It wasn’t the marriage; it was something deeper—a disconnection that couldn’t be fixed by simply changing the people or things around me.
The Turning Point: A New Community of Brothers
My story took a significant turn when I stumbled across a workshop on the four male archetypes—King, Warrior, Magician, and Lover—organized by a member of the ManKind Project (MKP). My new partner encouraged me to go, and although hesitant, I decided to give it a try. At first, I felt skeptical, unsure if these were people I could connect with.
But over those four weeks, something shifted. Slowly, my walls came down. I started letting go of my judgments and opening myself up to the experience. When the workshop ended, most of the men decided to keep meeting as a regular men’s circle, and I was one of them. Over time, these men became more than just acquaintances; they became my brothers.
The Power of Vulnerable Connection
This men’s circle became a transformative space for me—a sacred, magical, and deeply safe space where I could show up exactly as I was, without the masks, without the pressure to be “fine.” Whether I brought joy, pain, anger, or fear, it was all welcome. In that vulnerability, I found a new kind of strength.
One of the biggest realizations for me was that suffering didn’t have to be a solitary experience. The power of being seen, heard, and accepted—without judgment—allowed me to step out of the darkness that had often consumed me. I found solace in the honesty of my own struggles, knowing that the men around me had my back.
From Surviving to Thriving
Today, I credit much of my stability and growth to the brotherhood I found through men’s work. I haven’t experienced a significant depressive episode since joining the group. More importantly, I know that if the darkness returns, I am no longer alone. I have the tools, the community, and the support to navigate it.
Sometime after our circle had begun, I answered the call from our circle leader to attend the ManKind Project’s New Warrior Training Adventure weekend. It was incredible—an even deeper exploration of my shadows, what being a man means to me, I felt welcomed with open arms into a much larger brotherhood. Yet another group of men who accepted me fully, and who I was committed to showing up for as well. I have since staffed a couple of times as well, where I got to help other men go deeper and stand taller. The weekend pushed me to look closely at myself and opened up a new level of connection that I hadn’t known I was craving.
The connection I found wasn’t just about our weekly meetings. It was the realization that I didn’t have to go through everything in isolation. The men’s circle became a foundation that helped me show up more authentically in every part of my life—as a partner, a friend, and a leader. My journey has taken me from someone who thought strength meant enduring silently to someone who sees true courage as allowing oneself to be seen, even in the moments of greatest vulnerability.
An Invitation to Brotherhood
My story isn’t unique. It’s the story of countless men who feel isolated, burdened by expectations, and disconnected from their true selves. What I found in the ManKind Project was not a solution, but a way of being—a way of connecting deeply, embracing vulnerability, and finding strength in brotherhood.
To any man out there carrying the weight alone, my message is simple: You don’t have to do it alone. There is power in community, in being seen and heard as you truly are. Men’s work isn’t about fixing you; it’s about holding space for who you are, in all your complexity. It’s about discovering that real strength lies in connection, not isolation.
If you’re ready to explore, ready to let go of the mask and step into a community that will see you and accept you, consider joining a men’s group. It might just be the lifeline you didn’t know you needed.
Written by Ryan O'Connor. Chelsea, QC. October 2024
Completed his New Warrior Training Adventure June 2023