Why everyone feels so heavy right now, and what we're doing about it

Whether you're crammed onto a London Tube or walking up the high street in Glastonbury, the heart of the world, you can feel it. Something is going on.

Last week, I was in both.

My first day in Glastonbury felt like being thrown in a tumble dryer. The brightest light I've felt in a long time, and right beside it the darkest shadows: black magic, dense energy, homelessness, fighting, drug use. Within hours my chest was tight and my breath had crept up into my shoulders. It was the closest I've come to a panic attack in years. For a moment, it took me straight back to the very start of my own mental health journey.

Then the train to London. Heavy.

Then the Tube. Bashed in shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of people, and everyone angry. Arguing over nothing. Faces set like stone.

Anger is fear's big brother. That carriage wasn't full of angry people. It was full of frightened ones.

That night, I went out with my client Ben. I wanted to be a normal, fun human being for a few hours. So I had three beers, which I don't do. I came home early, lay awake, and then judged myself for drinking and then not sleeping.

So if you've been feeling heavy lately, and you can't quite put your finger on why, I want you to hear this first.

It isn't just you.

You can be in a packed room and still be alone

London on a Saturday night, 25 years after I first went out in places like it. So much has changed.

I watched a lot of beautiful women out that night who were far more interested in filming content for Instagram than in the men who were trying to talk to them in person. And I watched groups of young men out together, every one of them staring at his phone. I remember thinking, "What's the point of even being out?"

I want to be really clear here. This isn't a dig at women. It isn't a loaded thing. It's an observation of what was actually happening in front of me, and the young men were doing exactly the same.

Everyone filming the night instead of living it. Everyone together, and nobody connecting.

You can be in a packed pub on a Saturday night and be the loneliest person in it.

That's the weight I'm talking about. The rat race. The noise. The constant feed telling us what to fear next. It feels like a whole country of nervous systems braced for something, and a braced body can't let anyone in, no matter how many people are in the room.

So we reach for whatever takes the edge off. The screen. The drink. The next thing to do. And it works, for an hour or two. Then the weight comes back, usually around 3am.

None of that is a personality flaw. It's a nervous system that has never felt safe enough to put the weight down.

Why it hits harder at H.O.M.E.

Scotland is my country. I love it dearly. But if I'm honest, I've never fully felt that it loved me back.

Every time I come H.O.M.E., the lone wolf in me gets louder. So does the misunderstood little boy. That childhood wound comes right back up: isolated, disconnected, on the outside looking in. And it pulls hard against the thing I value most in this life, which is connection.

The heaviness, and the lack of support, is probably the biggest reason I've never felt fully safe here.

Something has landed for me over the last few months. As men, we typically need love in a particular way: appreciation, respect and support. And it needs to be consistent. I'm not sure I've ever had that. I know the people who love me do love me, in their own way. Just not always in the way I need to be loved.

I'm not saying that to blame anyone. This is the Hidden Wound at work: what we didn't receive as children becomes the lens we see everyone through as adults. Until we heal it at the root, we keep looking for it in places that can't give it to us.

And right now, it feels like everyone wants a piece of me, while I'm still picking up the pieces of the last 15 months of grief. So some days, the weight I'm carrying isn't only the collective. It's mine.

If you're the one everyone leans on, here's a question worth sitting with this week: who do you lean on?

The men are not okay

Men's mental health is through the floor. More men are taking their own lives, and the ones we're losing are getting younger, into their teenage years.

That should stop all of us in our tracks.

I've been thinking about rresuming my men's work for a long, long time. In San Diego, I ran a Wednesday men's workout with Stef and my brothers there, and every week it made the same thing clearer: it's time for men to stand up, and more importantly me stand up for my men.

Not louder. Not harder. Strong in every way that matters: physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, energetically, in our families and in our relationships. The way the world is going, we need men who can hold steady when everything around them is shaking.

THE PEACEFUL WARRIORS!

But here's the part I want to be really careful about, because it matters.

This isn't men against women. That whole men-versus-women fight is more of the propaganda that keeps us at war with each other, and it's another form of the same weight.

One thing I'm genuinely proud of is how I've met the end of my engagement. I refused to close my heart. I refused to run a narrative about who was to blame. That's been some of the hardest inner work I've ever done, and it's made me certain of one thing: men and women need to come together as one. Strong, open-hearted men are not a threat to women. We're part of how we all heal, together.

Also know, if you're struggling right now and need someone to talk to today, Samaritans are there 24 hours a day, every day of the year, on 116 123 in the UK.

But keep reading because I do have something I believe is even better.

An old church with a boxing ring in it

Here's where the hope comes in.

Sam McLeod is a former Scottish amateur champion, and he runs Sparta Boxing Academy. He's just moved into an amazing new space: an old church, gutted and rebuilt, with 2 boxing rings right there inside it and two church halls for extra community and healing based events within.

Watching Sam with his fighters, some of them as young as 10, I saw a man who lives for community, connection and contribution. He has a heart of gold and is a master of his craft. I see a lot of myself in him: the coach, the visionary, the selfless serving business owner following his passion but has his genie well and truly out of the bottle, wearing every hat at once in a bid to fulfil his dream and look after his people. I know how quickly that dream can start to feel like a nightmare without the right support around it, so I want to help carry some of that with him.

There are some amazing young personal trainers in there too, men and women. I want to pass on everything I can, so that when I'm not here, it keeps going. Not a Mark thing. Not a Trysted Soul thing. A Sparta thing, held by the community it serves.

That gives me hope that Scotland is actually waking up. Maybe it had to get this bad before we would admit that something needs to change.

My purpose doesn't wait for the perfect geography. It's here, now. I'm starting from scratch again, and I'm trusting what Joseph Campbell called following your bliss. Take one step towards God, and He'll take two towards you.

What we've built

So here's what's now running at Sparta, all in one place:

Soulify, every Wednesday from this Wednesday, 14 October, 7.30 to 9.30pm in the church hall. A 90-minute journey of breathwork, sound and frequency healing, somatic release, kaleidoscope visuals and a 13 chakra meditation. No talking, no performing. Just receiving and releasing. Book your Soulify place here.

The Embodied Man Clan, every Saturday from 17 October, 9 to 10.30am. A safe space for men to be supported, with no judgement. Half of every ticket goes to the Scott Martin Foundation to raise awareness for Youth Suicide & Youth Mental Health in memory of the Sparta legend who sadly passed away in 2021 during covid.

Why not come along and then stay for the 11am Boxing class with Sam and the team.

The morning classes, from Monday 19 October, 6 to 7am: Spartan 300 on Mondays and Fridays, Mobility and Meditation on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Circuits on Wednesdays.

See the full timetable and book your place here.

And you don't have to be in Scotland to work with us. Online Soulify runs every Monday at 3pm UK time and every Friday at 9am Perth time, wherever you are in the world.

Join the next online Soulify here.

One more thing for your diary: next July/ August, we'll be hosting a 5 day deep transformational retreat at The Middlewick in Glastonbury. More on that soon.

You were never meant to carry it alone

If you take one thing from this, let it be this.

The weight you've been feeling isn't proof that something is wrong with you. It's what happens when a sensitive nervous system lives in a heavy world without enough support around it.

You can't put that weight down in your head. You put it down in your body, in a room that feels safe, with people who don't flinch at your worst.

That's what we're building. If you're in Scotland, come and put it down with us.

Find your first class at Sparta here.

If you missed last week's piece, The long way H.O.M.E.: what 20 years of shadow work has taught me about life, you can read it here.

Mark Reid is the founder of Trysted Soul and the author of The Meandering Journey H.O.M.E. For 20 years he's helped people heal the root mother and father wounds through the body, so they can find purpose and love beyond trauma. He runs Soulify, The Embodied Man Clan and morning classes at Sparta Boxing Academy in Scotland, and online Soulify worldwide.