The Unnecessary Pressure We Place on Boys

In researching what teenage boys have to go through in today’s world as they grow up, I ran across this letter in LinkedIn. The letter did a fantastic job at addressing the issues boys face in 2026. In fact, boys have been facing these issues for many years. As a result many boys and men feel lonely, empty and often turn to drugs or alcohol to cope with their feelings and lives.

I am reposting this letter below. Please read it and if you have sons please think about how this might apply to your sons. Also what you can do to help your sons. Men who read this letter, please think about how you felt growing up and how you dealt with your feelings as a teenager. This may give you some idea how to assist your sons.

The major point is we place a huge burden on teenage boys creating numerous difficulties for them. We need to reexamine the pressure we place on boys and what we can do as a society to change the pressure we are placing on boys who are not emotionally ready to handle these expectations.

A Letter Every Son Needs to Read #47

When You Pretend, You’re Fine -Even When You’re Not

My Son,

There is something I have learned watching boys grow into men: many of the battles you fight are the ones no one ever sees. And one of the first lessons life teaches you, far too early, is how to pretend you’re fine even when you’re not.

You start learning to mask your feelings long before you truly understand them.

You discover that showing pain can sometimes attract the wrong kind of attention, so you hide it.

You realize people don’t always know what to do with your emotions, so you tuck them behind a straight face.

You smile when you are uncertain.

You joke when you’re hurting.

You stay quiet when the moment actually needs your voice.

And you say “I’m okay” because letting someone see your hurt feels risky.

You fear that if anyone notices the cracks, they will judge you, shame you, or think less of you.

Pretending becomes your armor. And beneath that armor, you carry more than you know how to express, hoping someone understands you without you having to expose the softest parts of yourself.

I see that, son.

I understand it.

You are not pretending because you are dishonest, you're pretending because you are protecting your dignity.

I get it.

Every boy your age does this in some way.

You act fine because you do not want to appear weak, needy, or emotional.

Hiding feels safer than revealing. The truth you should hold is simple: You are not weak for feeling deeply, you are only human- a growing human being.

Sometimes the emotions come before the words. You feel something but cannot explain it, so “I’m okay” becomes a shield you hold up to survive the moment without breaking.

And you tell yourself you shouldn’t burden anyone.

You convince yourself that staying silent is kinder.

But silence can turn into loneliness, an unnecessary, heavy kind.

There are other struggles you face at this stage of life too.

Embarrassment strikes fast at your age. One minute you’re fine, the next your face is hot and your heart is racing, and you find yourself laughing too loudly, brushing things off, or shutting down, anything except letting people see how much something got to you. Deep down you carry this fear that if anyone notices that moment of embarrassment, they’ll never forget it, and it will become your reputation. So you act okay, even when the inside of you is still shaking.

Failure, too, feels painfully personal. When something goes wrong, you don’t simply think, “I didn’t do well today.” Instead, it becomes, “Maybe I’m not good enough at all.” Every mistake pokes at the soft parts of your self-esteem that are still forming. And because you imagine everyone will judge you if you admit the disappointment, you hide it behind jokes or indifference, hoping nobody sees how much it really bothered you.

Rejection cuts deeper than you allow yourself to admit. You laugh it off, shrug, act unbothered, as if not being chosen, included, or valued is no big deal. But inside, you feel the sting of being overlooked. A voice whispers that letting people know you’re hurt will make you seem needy or desperate, so you wear your practiced “I’m fine” mask even when the rejection feels personal.

Confusion, strangely, can feel terrifying too. You worry that asking questions will make you look slow or lost, so instead of saying, “I don’t understand,” you guess, withdraw, or get irritated. Somewhere along the way, you picked up the idea that not knowing something is embarrassing, so you pretend clarity even when your mind is full of fog.

Son, at your age, comparison feels like silent judgment. No one needs to say a word, you look around and immediately feel behind, less than, or not enough. And because you fear that admitting insecurity will make you appear jealous or weak, you swallow it and keep going, even though the comparisons sit heavy on your chest.

Losing becomes more than just losing; it becomes a statement about who you are. When you win, you feel capable and confident. When you lose, it feels like a personal flaw, not just a moment. And because you believe people only respect you when you’re at your best, you hide the sting of defeat and pretend it doesn’t matter, even when it does.

And when life throws something painful or surprising your way, your mind scrambles to protect you. You react quickly, sometimes too quickly, because sudden hurt makes you feel stripped of control.

At your age, control often feels like the only stable ground you have. So even in moments when you’re unsure, scared, or shaken, you tell yourself that showing it will make people see you differently, and you hold everything in, hoping the feeling passes.

My son, hear me:

Everything you’re feeling is part of growing.

None of it makes you weak. None of it makes you less.

And none of it must be carried alone.

You don’t have to hide behind “I’m okay” with me.

You don’t have to pretend.

You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love or respect.

I am here, not to judge your cracks, but to help you understand them. When you pretend you’re fine, even when you’re not, you rob yourself of the chance to be understood.

When you pretend you’re fine, even when you’re not, you carry the weight alone, while the world assumes you’re okay because you’ve become so good at acting like you are. The masks you wear may protect you from embarrassment, judgment, or feeling exposed, but they also keep you from the support, connection, and healing you genuinely deserve.

Growing up isn’t about hiding your struggles until they disappear; it’s about learning that your feelings don’t make you weak, they make you human. And the sooner you allow yourself to be real, at least with one safe person, the lighter your steps become.

You don’t have to spill everything. You don’t have to be vulnerable with everyone. You just need to stop abandoning yourself in the name of looking strong. Because real strength isn’t pretending you’re fine; it’s trusting that you’re allowed to not be.

And you are never alone in that journey.

I am here, not to shame your struggles, but to walk with you through them.

I will always be here with love.dad

Dr. Michael Rubino is a psychotherapist with over 25 years experience. He specializes in treating depression and suicide especially depressed and suicidal children, teenagers, trauma victims and first responders. For more information about Dr. Rubino visit his websites at www.RubinoCounseling.com, www.rcs-ca.com or his Facebook page www.Facebook.com/drrubino3