“Hey, dearie! You look exhausted. What’s going on?” I asked as I slid into the chair opposite my friend, Arjun. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples, clearly drained.

“I don’t know, yaar. It’s just… everything. Work, home, my own emotions—it’s all too much sometimes,” he admitted, his voice laced with frustration.

“That bad, huh?” I sipped my coffee, giving him the space to let it out.

“You know how it is. We grow up believing that men are supposed to be strong, the providers, the problem solvers. But no one tells you how to deal with the emotional chaos that comes with it.”

I nodded. “You mean, the pressure to balance everything without cracking?“

“Exactly!” Arjun leaned forward, his voice urgent. “At work, I have to be this competent, reliable guy. There are deadlines, client expectations, office politics—it’s like walking a tightrope every day. Then at home, I have to be present for my wife and parents. I can’t just shut down and say, ‘I had a rough day, I need a break.’ The house doesn’t stop running. My wife has her own struggles, my parents need me. And in the middle of it all, I barely get time to process my own emotions.”

I could see the weight he carried, the silent struggle so many men face but rarely talk about. “That sounds tough. Do you ever talk to your wife about it?”

He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “I try, but it’s complicated. She expects me to be emotionally available, which I get, but where do I dump my own frustrations? She can talk about her bad day, her feelings. But when I do it, there’s this unspoken expectation that I should just handle it and move on. Sometimes, I feel like I have no outlet.”

I let his words settle. “So, you feel like you always have to have it together? Like you can’t show weakness?”

Arjun sighed. “Yes! You get it. It’s not like she’s unsympathetic. But society has conditioned us this way. If a woman cries, people comfort her. If a man does, they wonder if he’s weak. And that’s the real struggle—handling emotions while pretending they don’t exist.”

“That’s messed up,” I admitted. “But do you ever take time for yourself? Something that’s just yours?” I further added, Emotions do not make a man weak; denying them does.

He smiled bitterly. “When? The weekends are for family. If I take time off for myself, I feel guilty. Like I should be spending that time with them instead. And during the weekdays, I barely have time to breathe.”

“So, you keep pushing forward without recharging?” I asked, realizing how many men must go through this without acknowledging it.

“Pretty much,” he nodded. “And you know what’s funny? People assume men don’t feel as deeply as women. But we do. We just express it differently. Instead of talking about it, we bury it under work, distractions, sometimes even anger.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that,” I agreed. “You know, it’s okay to not have all the answers, right? You’re human too.”

Arjun smirked. “Try telling that to a world that expects you to be Superman.”

I leaned back in my chair, thinking. “You know, maybe we need to change that expectation. Maybe it starts with conversations like this—acknowledging that it’s okay for men to feel, to need support, to take time for themselves.”

He exhaled deeply, as if letting go of something pent-up. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to start setting boundaries for myself too. Not just at work but at home. Because if I keep running on empty, I won’t be any good to anyone—not to my family, not to my job, and certainly not to myself.”

I smiled. “Now you’re talking. How about this? Next weekend, just take a few hours for yourself. Do something you enjoy—no guilt. See how that feels.”

He chuckled. “Baby steps, huh? Alright, I’ll try. But only if you promise to check in on me next week.”

“Deal,” I said, raising my coffee mug. “Here’s to men learning to handle emotions the right way.”

He asked me further, so, do you feel balance is the best way to lead life?

I said, not necessarily, balance is often seen as the ideal, but life isn’t always about equilibrium. Some phases demand intensity, others require surrender. Growth sometimes comes from chaos, and peace can emerge from embracing extremes.

For some, purpose is found in discipline and structure; for others, in passion and spontaneity. A musician may lose himself in his art, an entrepreneur in his ambition, a seeker in his devotion. Each path is unique.

The key is not just balance, but awareness—knowing when to push, when to rest, and when to simply flow with life’s rhythm. What do you think? Do you feel balance is the answer for you?