Trauma & Mental Health

Men's Mental Health, Shame & the Cost of Staying Silent

Michael Cogdill on childhood trauma, emotional suppression, codependency, vulnerability, and learning that strength can include asking for help

Notes to My Nervous System
Michael Cogdill — Award-winning journalist & author
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Some people become very good at looking fine. They work. They accomplish things. They take care of other people. They become dependable. And almost nobody knows what they are carrying underneath it.

In this episode of Notes to My Nervous System, I sit down with award-winning journalist and author Michael Cogdill for a deeply personal conversation about childhood trauma, shame, alcohol addiction within a family, codependency, masculinity, vulnerability, and what it took for him to stop trying to save everyone around him.

Michael talks openly about growing up with an alcoholic father, witnessing violence as a child, feeling responsible for fixing problems that were never a child's responsibility, and carrying some of those patterns into adulthood. The conversation raises a question that reaches far beyond Michael's story: What happens when someone learns early that surviving means staying strong, staying useful, and staying quiet?

Why can shame be so difficult to talk about?

Shame is different from simply regretting something you did. Guilt often sounds like: "I did something I wish I had done differently." Shame can sound more like: "There is something wrong with me."

Shame can influence whether someone discloses a painful experience, asks for help, apologizes, enters therapy, talks openly in relationships, or instead tries to hide the parts of themselves they believe other people will reject. But shame should not be reduced to one specific nervous-system state. It is a complex emotional and social experience involving beliefs about ourselves, other people, relationships, culture, memory, and context. In Michael's story, silence became one way of carrying experiences that were difficult to name.

Why do some men have such a difficult time asking for help?

Men are not all socialized the same way. But many receive messages — directly or indirectly — that strength means: Handle it yourself. Do not cry. Do not appear afraid. Do not burden anyone. Fix the problem. Keep moving. Those expectations can make vulnerability feel risky. The contradiction is that trying to appear completely self-sufficient can sometimes make genuine connection much harder.

Asking for help does not automatically resolve trauma, depression, addiction, grief, or relationship problems. But it can create access to something silence cannot: another person who actually knows what is happening.

Childhood trauma can affect adulthood — but it does not write your destiny

Michael describes experiences in childhood that no child should have been responsible for managing.

  • Violence.
  • Alcohol misuse.
  • Fear.
  • Trying to intervene in adult problems.
  • Being placed in the role of helping hold a family together.

Childhood adversity can have lasting effects on emotional development, relationships, expectations of other people, stress responses, and mental health.

When a child becomes responsible for adult problems

One of the most painful themes in Michael's story is the experience of trying to manage a parent's behavior. Children sometimes learn:

  • If I say the right thing, maybe they will stop drinking.
  • If I behave well enough, maybe nobody will fight.
  • If I keep everyone happy, maybe things will stay okay.

That can create patterns that continue into adulthood:

  • Fixing.
  • Monitoring.
  • Rescuing.
  • Taking responsibility for other people's emotions.
  • Difficulty allowing other adults to experience consequences.
  • Feeling valuable when someone needs you.

Michael has written publicly about recognizing this pattern in himself and eventually learning that he could not make his father stop drinking. That is an important distinction: Caring about someone is not the same as being responsible for changing them.

Codependency without turning it into a diagnosis

Michael also talks about codependency. Codependency is not a formal psychiatric diagnosis, and there is no single universally accepted clinical definition. The term is often used to describe patterns such as over-caretaking, excessive responsibility for another person's emotions or behavior, difficulty setting limits, or repeatedly sacrificing one's own needs while trying to stabilize someone else. For Michael, the language of codependency helps describe part of his lived experience. That does not mean every person raised around addiction will develop the same pattern. People respond differently to adversity. The value of the concept is not labeling someone. It is asking: Am I helping because I choose to — or because I feel responsible for keeping another adult okay?

Why "fixing" other people can feel like love

Helping can be deeply loving. The problem is when helping becomes compulsory.

You start believing:

  • Their stability depends on me.
  • I have to solve this.
  • If I stop helping, something terrible will happen.

That pattern can become especially strong when someone learned early to monitor an unpredictable household. But there is an important difference between understanding where the pattern came from and assuming it must be a specific trauma response. Sometimes fixing is reinforced because it works. The crisis ends. Someone thanks you. You feel useful. The uncertainty decreases. Then the behavior becomes easier to repeat. Breaking the pattern may require tolerating something uncomfortable: another capable adult handling their own problem differently than you would.

Breaking generational silence

Michael's story also raises a broader family question. What happens when one generation decides to talk about something previous generations avoided?

  • Addiction.
  • Violence.
  • Mental health.
  • Trauma.
  • Shame.
  • Family secrets.

Breaking silence does not require publicly sharing every painful detail. People have a right to privacy. It means refusing to pretend that something did not happen simply because acknowledging it is uncomfortable. That can be especially important when parenting. You do not have to tell children everything. But families can create environments where emotions, mistakes, addiction, mental-health struggles, boundaries, and asking for help are not automatically treated as sources of shame.

In This Episode, We Discuss

  • Men's mental health and the pressure to appear self-sufficient
  • Michael Cogdill's experience growing up with alcohol misuse and family violence
  • Childhood shame and the experience of believing something is wrong with you
  • Why some children begin taking responsibility for adult problems
  • Codependency, rescuing, and trying to "fix" other people
  • Why childhood trauma can influence adulthood without determining it
  • Emotional suppression and the cost of staying silent
  • The difference between vulnerability and oversharing
  • Asking for help as a relational act rather than a sign of weakness
  • Breaking generational patterns of silence
  • Forgiveness without minimizing harm
  • Building a life that is no longer organized around saving everyone else

Episode Highlights

03:15

Childhood trauma and shame

Michael reflects on early experiences and how shame and silence followed him into adulthood.

09:45

Codependency and fixing other people

Why caring for someone can gradually turn into feeling responsible for solving their problems.

16:20

Breaking generational silence

Talking about painful family experiences differently and considering what we want the next generation to learn.

20:10

Vulnerability and asking for help

Why opening up can support connection — and why vulnerability works best in relationships where there is enough trust and safety.

Frequently Asked Questions

Yes. Childhood adversity can influence expectations about trust, conflict, safety, attachment, emotional expression, and responsibility. The effects vary considerably, and childhood experiences do not determine someone's future relationships.

There is no single reason. Social expectations around masculinity, family culture, temperament, previous experiences, relationship safety, stigma, and mental-health concerns may all play a role.

Shame can occur in people with and without trauma histories. Trauma may contribute to shame for some individuals, but shame should not automatically be interpreted as evidence of trauma or one specific nervous-system response.

No. Codependency is an informal psychological and relationship concept rather than a formal DSM diagnosis.

Childhood experiences may contribute to over-caretaking or codependent patterns for some people, but there is no single cause. Family roles, anxiety, reinforcement, personality, relationships, culture, and other variables may also matter.

That is too specific to state as fact. People can withdraw or become less communicative when intensely ashamed, but current evidence does not justify equating shame itself with a particular vagal state.

Not automatically. Trauma-focused treatment is more specific than simply discussing painful experiences. Supportive disclosure can reduce isolation for some people, while poorly timed or unsafe disclosure can be distressing. People experiencing significant trauma-related symptoms may benefit from assessment by a qualified mental-health professional.

Yes. Adult behavior and relationship patterns are modifiable. Change may involve insight, new relationships, therapy when appropriate, recovery supports, deliberate behavioral practice, and time.

From Erin Vandermore, Host

One thing I have seen repeatedly in therapy is that people can become extraordinarily competent at surviving a pattern long after that pattern has stopped helping them. The work is not convincing someone that everything about their past was harmful. It is helping them notice what they are still carrying — and deciding what they want to keep carrying forward.

Erin Vandermore, LCMHC-S, is a licensed mental health therapist, former educator, and founder of Mind Circuit™. Before becoming a therapist and entrepreneur, I worked in Chicago Public Schools as a school counselor, coach, and district-level counseling specialist. Across classrooms, counseling offices, parenting, and therapy, I kept seeing the same problem: We often ask people to think, talk, learn, or problem-solve at the exact moment they are least available to do it. My work now focuses on a practical question: What helps people recover from stress and return to what they need to do next? That question is also at the center of Notes to My Nervous System.

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