Dear Eric: How should I tell my husband he has breasts? He is not a vain man, and I suspect does not study himself in a mirror. He is on many new meds which can result in developing this condition.
For the most part he is fully dressed, but it’s summertime and he may, at some point, want to remove his shirt to swim with friends. I’m sure he would be embarrassed to do so if he knew how he looks. I don’t want to make him self-conscious, and he may get angry with me for pointing this out to him and making him self-conscious. I also fear he will discontinue the meds he needs as a reaction to this discovery.
– Reserved Observation
Dear Observation: Are the breasts on his back? The only way I can see this being useful information is if he has new growths in a place he can’t see and isn’t aware of. Otherwise, please leave him be.
He may not be vain, or even particularly observant, but he is still a person in a body and he, presumably, showers and dresses himself. So, he is aware of what he looks like. And, with that awareness, if he chooses to take off his shirt at a pool day with people he’s comfortable around, let him. My goodness, life can be so short on pleasures. If he’s not embarrassed, don’t give him a reason to be. Everyone’s body is their own business.
Dear Eric: My now-deceased wife of 39 years was aware of my clinical depression, and she was very supportive during a one-week stay at a psychiatric ward followed by a few months of outpatient care.
Widowed since 2020, I am now in a committed relationship with a woman I’ve been seeing for two years. I moved into her place six months ago. Though I’ve been transparent with my girlfriend about my depression, which is largely controlled with medication, I’ve never mentioned my hospital stay of 12 years ago. Must I be open with her about my entire mental health history this far into our relationship, and perhaps risk it all?
– Afraid to Share
Dear Share: If your girlfriend loves you enough to combine houses with you, I daresay she loves you enough to accept all the parts of you, even the ones that cause you shame. That said, it’s fine not to mention something that happened a dozen years ago.
I’m reminded of a Tracy Chapman song called “At This Point in My Life”, which I used to listen to on repeat when I was in my 20s and very depressed. Much of the song is about someone who fears that they are only defined by the mistakes they’ve made. But, toward the end, there’s this lyric:
At this point in my life/I’d like to live as if only love mattered/As if redemption was in sight/As if the search to live honestly/Is all that anyone needs/ No matter if you find it.
I’ve found solace in that for decades.
Tell your girlfriend what you feel comfortable telling her, knowing that she can hold it and hold you. Don’t let shame convince you that any parts of your mental health journey make you unlovable. And give yourself permission to leave some parts of the past in the past.
Dear Eric: I have multiple friends dealing with truly tragic situations, like the premature death of a sibling and the very serious illness of a spouse. I know the very worst thing I could do would be to disappear, but I also live in fear of saying the wrong thing or putting them in the position of comforting me. What do you suggest for support of people who are in an awful situation without accidentally saying things that will make them feel worse? I’m grieving for them and not wanting to accidentally hurt them.
– Walking on Eggshells
Dear Eggshells: Often, when talking to people going through hard times, we’re tripped up by trying to find the perfect thing to make it all better, as if we were greeting cards or magic spells. We forget our true powers: empathy, a listening ear, and sometimes a helping hand.
So, ask, “Is there something that you need right now?” Or say, “I’m sorry you’re going through this; do you want to talk about it?” And then listen to the answer.
If you’re actively listening, your brain won’t get mired in trying to find the words to make it all better. There are no words that will make it all better. Accept that, release yourself from that responsibility and remember that you may say something that doesn’t come out right. That’s OK, too. Sometimes the only words you need are “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m here.”
Send questions to R. Eric Thomas at [email protected] or P.O. Box 22474, Philadelphia, PA 19110. Follow him on Instagram and sign up for his weekly newsletter at rericthomas.com.
