Abigail McCune

ASBIW 2 FL

Final Paper 

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Holding Men’s Hearts: How Female Practitioners Can Support Men Through Barbara Brennan’s Work

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The topic of men’s mental health has become increasingly prominent, appearing in headlines and across social media platforms. Despite this attention, something crucial continues to be overlooked. Men experience anxiety, depression, and emotional pain at rates similar to women, yet the outcomes for men are often more severe and more final. In the United States, men account for nearly eighty percent of suicide deaths, even though women report higher rates of diagnosed depression and attempts (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention). Men are also more likely to struggle with substance use and high-risk behaviors (Hughes). This says something important. Men are not feeling less. They are suffering in ways that are harder to see and harder to name.

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I am aware that it may seem unusual for me, as a woman, to be writing about men’s mental health. I am not claiming to know what it is like to be a man. But I live closely alongside men. I’ve raised men. I love men. Sometimes being a witness allows patterns to emerge that might otherwise be missed.

The reason I was drawn to this topic is because I have two sons, now twenty-two and twenty-five, and between 2021 and 2025 they lost five male friends. Three died by suicide. Two died as a result of reckless choices. Those losses deeply affected my sons and me. They made me wonder what is happening with our young men. What is missing for them? How much are they carrying, and why haven’t they been able to talk about it?

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When mental health is referenced in this paper, it does not refer only to diagnoses or categories in a handbook. The term is used here to describe the capacity to be alive on this planet in connectedness with other living beings while maintaining some degree of awareness, connection, and resilience. Mental health includes recognizing what one feels, regulating stress, forming meaningful relationships, and adapting when life becomes overwhelming. From this perspective, mental health is not static. It is an ongoing, evolving process between the inner world, the physical body, relationships with other people, relationship with the planet earth, and the stories inherited about who one is allowed to be.

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For many men, strength is equated with endurance and vulnerability with weakness. This creates internal distance. Depression in men often appears as irritability, shutdown, overwork, or anger, not always tears (Real 33–36). Suffering is often hidden beneath the surface.

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Robert Bly approaches this idea from another angle. In Iron John, he argues that many boys grow up without meaningful initiation into adulthood, without older men guiding them through emotional and psychological thresholds. Traditionally, initiation rituals helped boys understand grief, fear, responsibility, and belonging. Without that structure, men may reach adulthood carrying feelings they do not know how to place. The emotion exists, sometimes powerfully, but the map is missing.

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Many men also struggle to identify and describe emotions, a pattern called alexithymia, which affects men at nearly twice the rate of women (Honkalampi et al. 78–80). When feelings cannot move through language, they can show up as tension, numbness, or risky behavior. From the outside, men may seem detached, but inside they carry deep pain.

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This disconnection does not remain only psychological. Chronic stress also affects the body, influencing immune health and inflammation (McEwen 173–75). Trauma can echo across generations, shaping how boys learn to manage emotion (Yehuda et al. 372–80). Over time, disconnection becomes normalized, even praised.

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Barbara Brennan’s work offers a way of understanding this that brings the focus back to the body. Brennan sees emotional life as inseparable from physical and energetic experience. Feeling is not abstract. It lives in posture, breath, musculature, and energy systems. When men lose access to their emotional vocabulary, they often lose access to how it feels in their body and how that could guide healing. From this perspective, recovery is not just about talking. It is about learning to be in the body again, allowing sensation, emotion, and awareness to reconnect (Brennan, Light Emerging).

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Putting all of this together, these patterns suggest that men’s suffering is rarely an absence of feeling. There is a disconnect between how feelings are carried and how support is offered. Healing must meet men where they are. This is where three ideas become central: purpose, embodiment, and connection.

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Purpose is the sense that one’s life has direction and meaning. Research links purpose with resilience and improved health outcomes (Alimujiang et al.). For many men, purpose is experienced as stability and contribution. Bly frames purpose as initiation into responsibility, the moment a man understands that his energy belongs to something larger than himself. Without that sense of direction, life issues can feel chaotic and ungrounded.

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Embodiment is the ability to inhabit the body with awareness. It is the bridge between emotional life and lived experience. When men reconnect with sensation and breath, they gain access to regulation that does not rely solely on language. Brennan emphasizes that embodiment restores coherence in the energetic system, allowing emotional material to surface and integrate rather than overwhelm (Brennan, Core Light Healing).

Connection is the experience of being known and met. It is the quiet moment when understanding feels mutual and safe. Bly describes belonging as essential to masculine development, while Real frames connection as the relational antidote to isolation. Brennan views connection as energetic resonance that stabilizes the nervous system and deepens self-awareness.

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This paper explores how female practitioners of Barbara Brennan’s work can support men in this healing. Not because women are here to fix men, but because women often bring a kind of presence that makes room for what men have been taught to hide. When that presence is paired with Brennan’s approach, something powerful can happen. Brennan’s work offers a grounded way to meet men through purpose, embodiment, and connection. This does not replace the role of male mentorship. Bly is clear that men ultimately need men to guide them into mature masculinity. What female practitioners can offer is a different kind of female-to-male relationship. In this place, men can begin reconnecting with themselves without shame in a relationship that is likely different than any they have known with a woman. That stability often becomes the bridge that allows men to seek deeper connections that support long-term growth.

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When men finally reach for help, they are often doing so at a point of real breakdown. Something has broken through their usual coping strategies that once worked. The question then becomes not just whether support is available, but whether that support meets them in ways that feel safe, grounded, and respectful of how they move through the world.

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The reality is that when men do reach out for help, the people they often turn to are women. In the United States, about 80 percent of single-parent households are headed by women, 77 percent of public-school teachers, and 77.5 percent of licensed mental health counselors are women (U.S. Census Bureau; Taie and Lewis; Zippia). The same is true for Barbara Brennan practitioners. Although the school does not keep official statistics, a review of the active practitioner directory indicates that approximately 80 percent of practitioners are female (“Find a Practitioner”). This means men often encounter women first when seeking guidance, support, and healing.

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Barbara Brennan’s work provides structure by recognizing that emotional life is inseparable from the body and the energetic field. Many men arrive without language for what they feel, but their bodies are already speaking through posture, breath patterns, muscular tension, and energetic holding. Brennan gives practitioners a way to listen to that communication without forcing verbal disclosure too early. The body becomes the doorway. Sensation becomes information. Healing unfolds through awareness of the body and energy field rather than pressure for verbal explanation.

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A clear example of Brennan healing that aligns with purpose is Hara healing. Brennan describes this healing as being centered on life-task, alignment, and intentional direction (Brennan, Student Workbook 102). Hara work invites a client to feel orientation in the body, to sense where they are going and what supports that movement. It is less about analyzing emotion and more about experiencing alignment. Hara work provides a grounded entry point. It does not demand emotional fluency. It meets men in movement, sensation, and intention, domains that often feel more accessible. Female practitioners can hold this work with steadiness, allowing the client to experience forward motion without feeling exposed. The result is often a quiet rebuilding of confidence, not through performance, but through embodied alignment.

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Brennan’s understanding of Core Essence deepens this process. Core Essence is the authentic self beneath trauma and conditioning, the part of a person that carries innate qualities of vitality and purpose (Brennan, Light Emerging 42–45). When practitioners work with Core Essence, they are not trying to fix a client. They are tracking the beauty and gifts that are already present. For many men, being witnessed in this way is unfamiliar. They may be used to being evaluated for achievement rather than recognized for their innate splendor.

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This kind of witnessing has a deep impact. Real emphasizes that healing begins when a person no longer has to perform to be accepted (Real 33–36). Bly similarly writes about the hunger men carry to be seen beyond role or productivity. When a practitioner reflects Core Essence, she communicates without words that the client’s value is not conditional. That message can soften defensive structures and allow emotional material to surface without overwhelming the system. Joy Adler has described this idea beautifully, reminding us of what Barbara Brennan once said in a men’s conference, “What the world needs is men’s hearts”. In other words, the capacity of men to be present with themselves and others matters deeply and creating space for that is part of the work practitioners hold.

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Because of this, the practitioner’s internal state becomes central to the work. Female practitioners often bring strengths that complement this. However, those strengths only serve the work when they are grounded in steady self-awareness. For female practitioners, one of the most important parts of working with men is tracking their own reactions in real time.

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Traditional Ancestral Root healing adds another layer by addressing inherited belief patterns. Brennan describes these energetic cords as carriers of family and cultural narratives, including expectations around masculinity, silence, and endurance (Brennan, Core Light Healing 169). Many men inherit stories about strength that exclude vulnerability. These narratives are rarely questioned because they are woven into identity. TARS work offers a way to bring awareness to those inherited structures so that choice becomes possible. Instead of rejecting tradition, the client learns to keep what works and release what doesn’t.

Advanced Brennan Integrative Work emphasizes presence during personal process. Rather than directing or interpreting, practitioners track shifts in sensation, emotion, and energy while maintaining grounded connection. For men who are not used to truly being seen, this space can be profoundly regulating. Connection is not forced. It is modeled. Over time, the nervous system learns that intensity does not have to lead to withdrawal or aggression. It can be met and integrated.

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As men have learned silence and stoicism through tradition, women have often been socialized toward emotional expression and relational awareness. That does not make women more evolved or more suited to healing work. It simply means many female practitioners may feel more comfortable naming emotion, tracking subtle shifts, and holding relational space.

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At the same time, women must be careful not to caretake, rescue, or soften intensity in ways that interrupt a man’s process. The goal is not to mother, manage, or interpret him. The goal is to remain steady, embodied, and clear so that he can feel himself more fully. For male clients, this creates an experience of warmth paired with safety, a combination that reduces shame while preserving autonomy.

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Still, it is important to say clearly that female practitioners are not a replacement for male mentorship. Bly argues that mature masculinity develops in relationship with other men who have walked similar terrain. Healing that begins in a practitioner’s office must eventually extend into male community, where identity, responsibility, and belonging are mirrored. Female practitioners can act as bridges, helping men stabilize and reconnect with their inner world so they are better able to seek out those relationships. Female practitioners might consider keeping a list of men’s groups, male therapists, and male healers that further support the journey available for their male clients.

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What remains underexplored in much of the literature is how men stay engaged in healing once they begin. Talking alone may not reach men whose distress is somatic or preverbal. Embodied methodology like Brennan’s offer pathways that honor how men often experience emotion, through purpose, embodiment, and connection. Pairing that work with intentional encouragement toward male mentorship creates a fuller network of support.

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Barbara Brennan teaches that healing happens in relationship across the physical body, the auric field, the hara line, and the Core Star (Brennan, Light Emerging 42–45; Brennan, Core Light Healing 169). The auric field is the energy that surrounds and runs through the body. “It is the place where all the emotions, thoughts, memories, and behavior patterns… are located (Brennan, Hands of Light 89).” The hara line relates to direction and intention. The Core Star represents the essential self beyond roles or stories.

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When female practitioners sit with a male client, they are not only listening to his words, they also notice shifts their own body. Does their breath tighten or their chest close? Do they lean forward, pull back, brace, or soften? In the auric field, do they sense pressure, expansion, contraction? Along the hara line, do they feel aligned and steady in their intention, or slightly off center? At the level of Core Star, do they remain connected to their own essence, or do they dim themselves in response to the client’s energy? This kind of tracking protects both practitioners and clients. It keeps the work clean. It also helps practitioners recognize transference and countertransference in relationship to men on all the levels. Transference happens when a client unconsciously projects feelings, expectations, or past relational patterns onto the practitioner. Countertransference is the practitioner’s emotional reaction to the client, (possibly created by the client unconsciously), which may be shaped by her own history. If practitioners are not aware of these dynamics, they can begin reacting instead of responding. But when they track themselves across body, field, intention, and essence, they can stay present. They see and understand what belongs to the client and what belongs to the practitioner. That steadiness creates safety. And safety is often what allows men to slowly bring their guarded hearts into the room. This kind of steadiness changes the tone of the room.

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The importance of this practitioner awareness became clear in the following case. My client, a 30-year-old single male who experienced significant neglect in childhood. His mother worked constantly, and his father struggled with alcoholism. He has two older siblings. He is a musical artist and filmmaker who has done meaningful healing work, including men’s groups and meditation.

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From the beginning, I experienced him as thoughtful and articulate. His previous healing work shows in how easily he names and categorizes his emotions. However, I quickly noticed that embodying those emotions is more difficult for him.

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I prepared a 22-question questionnaire to assess how he relates to feeling, including whether he minimizes, intellectualizes, or shuts down. He answered nearly every question with the highest scores, leaving little measurable room for growth. This immediately showed me that any agenda I carried into the case would not serve the work.

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In session, I recognized him as a Communicator-Solidifier with an Inspirer overlay personality pattern. He can label feelings with precision, yet his body often carries tension. His stress appears physically through difficulty sitting still, jaw tightness, and a tendency to drink water when emotions deepen. I frequently invite him to ground, breathe, or gently move his jaw and mouth to release tension. When breath drops into his feet, his voice softens, and his presence deepens.

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His relationship with women has been complicated. He loves his mother deeply, yet her emotional availability was limited. In our first meeting, I sensed him quietly testing the safety of our connection. My focus became holding hara, grounding, and creating a stable, aligned space for trust to form. With this foundation, our sessions focused on creating and supporting emotional awareness in practical ways.

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In our second session, I became aware of my own agenda. I wanted to explore his father and guide the session in that direction, partly to benefit this paper. Before the session, standing in the shower, I recognized this desire and spoke it aloud to myself. I realized my responsibility was not to direct his process, but to meet him where he was. Entering the session with that awareness allowed me to hold him more cleanly and release the impulse to steer.

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Alongside these shifts in him, I became more aware of what was happening inside me, especially as a female practitioner. My personal history shaped how I show up with male clients. Growing up, I had to care for my mother emotionally. My father felt like a safe place where I could be myself, but only because he was not going to hurt me. I created an idealized image of him, but in reality, he was very disconnected. That background made me sensitive to others' moods and needs, always watching and ready to fill the gap. When my energy reaches out in session, I realize I am trying to fill a void and be met by something, anything. I caught myself almost stepping into this old role before my second session with JG. Growing up with an unpredictable mother and a emotionally absent father, I learned to care for myself, and everyone around me, as a survival strategy.

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If I brought this energy to the session, it would likely scare men away or make them feel less than, not enough, further compounding the feelings they already battle. By noticing this and choosing to show up without that energy, I can meet them where they are. The more I am aware of these patterns, the more I can stay steady and present, not stepping into old roles. This self-awareness deepens the clinical work and helps create a safer space for both of us.

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In session, I used process interventions that helped him go deeper. When he spoke about stress, I asked him where he felt it in his body. This slowed him down and brought his attention to sensation, not just words. I could feel a shift in his energy field. I also asked about his ability to receive support and what that meant to him. He was not ready to explore that fully, but I noticed his eyes were filled with tears. That moment felt like a turning point. Naming an edge, even gently, can open something important.

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I reflected on his ongoing dilemma of making beautiful art versus staying financially stable. Later, as we spoke about his efforts to balance reason, will, and emotion, he named his own double-bind. He felt damned if he pushed for what he wanted, and damned if he did not. This led him to realize he often stays in the middle, unseen, where he is not too much. I asked him if being too much was familiar to him, and he agreed it was. These moments, naming a dilemma, inviting him to notice what feels familiar, and using silence to let things land, helped JG move from talking about feelings to embodying and recognizing them.

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Each time I noticed a shift in his energy, I tracked its impact on his grounding and alignment. When he brought attention to his body, his energy field softened, and his hara line felt steadier. When emotion surfaced or he realized something new, I could sense more flow through his chakras. These small interventions, slowing down, asking questions, and naming what was present, became a living expression of the processes I learned in Advanced Studies at BBSH.

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Transference manifested as him projecting feelings of abandonment and a longing for care onto me. At times, he watched me carefully, as if checking whether I would withdraw or remain steady. Countertransference appeared as my urge to reassure him, soften his discomfort, or guide him too quickly toward insight. By tracking these responses across my body, field, hara, and Core Star, I was able to leave caretaking outside the room. Instead of becoming a substitute mother, I remained a grounded practitioner. When I steadied myself, he steadied as well.

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Across four sessions, I observed subtle but meaningful changes in him. What became clear was not that he lacked emotional language. He lacked safe inhabiting. Grounding through breath has become a stabilizing practice. When he brings awareness to his feet, his voice softens and his mental energy quiets.

JG maintains several meaningful relationships with other men, and I consistently encourage him to strengthen those connections. While our work has supported his emotional integration, male mentorship, and community remain essential for long-term maturation.

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Reflecting on this case, several lessons stand out for practitioners supporting men’s mental health. It demonstrates that when female practitioners remain grounded in structure and are aware of relational dynamics, they can support men in emotional integration without replacing the role of male initiation. This case also clarifies how purpose, embodiment, and relational structure must work together for men to integrate emotion safely.

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Women practitioners can support men by being present and real in the room. Instead of trying to fix, rescue, or soften a man’s experience, practitioners can meet men where they are and hold steady. This means noticing habits, like wanting to take care of feelings or fill the silence and choosing to stay grounded instead. Simple curiosity, clear boundaries, and acceptance go a long way. Using Brennan’s work, practitioners invite men to notice what they feel in their bodies, to talk about what feels hard, and to pay attention to anything that feels familiar from the past. Practitioners sit with them, even when it is uncomfortable, and allow space for emotions to come up. Showing up this way helps men feel safe enough to bring more of themselves into the session, which supports them in connecting to their own feelings and starting to heal.

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Men’s mental health struggles are not signs of emotional absence or weakness. They reflect the ways men have been shaped to carry feelings in silence. Healing becomes possible when that silence is met with structure, respect, and relational presence. Female practitioners trained in Brennan’s work are positioned to offer this beginning. In this space, men can relearn the language of the body, reconnect with meaning, and experience being met without judgment. From there, the path widens to include other men, mentors, and communities that continue the work of initiation and belonging.

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Supporting men’s hearts is necessary. When men are supported in returning to themselves, the effects ripple outward, touching families, personal relationships, and communities. Healing, in this sense, is not only personal. It is shared. And when female practitioners can honor purpose, embodiment, and connection together, men are given something many have quietly needed for a long time: a way to remember who they really are.
 

 

 

 Works Cited

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Addis, Michael E., and John R. Mahalik. “Men, Masculinity, and the Contexts of Help Seeking.” American Psychologist, vol. 58, no. 1, 2003, pp. 5–14, www.researchgate.net/publication/10822409_Men_Masculinity_and_the_Contexts_of_Help_Seeking. Accessed 30 Jan. 2026.

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Adler, Joy. “Personal Communication Spoken During an ASBIW Class.” Online classroom, Zoom, Dec. 2025.

 

Alimujiang, Aliya, et al. “Association between Life Purpose and Mortality among US Adults Older than 50 Years.” JAMA Network Open, vol. 2, no. 5, 24 May 2019, e194270, https://doi.org/10.1001/jamanetworkopen.2019.4270. Accessed 29 Jan. 2026.

 

Bly, Robert. Iron John: A Book about Men. Hachette Books, 2020.

 

Brennan, Barbara Ann. Core Light Healing: My Personal Journey and Advanced Concepts for Creating the Life You Long to Live. Hay House, 2017.

 

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Brennan, Barbara, et al. Student Work Book – Year 4. Barbara Brennan, Inc., 2021.

 

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“Find a Practitioner.” Barbara Brennan School of Healing, 2026, barbarabrennan.com/find-healing-practitioner. Accessed 13 Feb. 2026.

 

Honkalampi, Kirsi, et al. “Factors Associated with Alexithymia in Patients Suffering from Depression.” Department of Psychiatry, Research and Development Unit, Kuopio University Hospital, 1999, www.researchgate.net/publication/12783028_Factors_Associated_with_Alexithymia_in_Patients_Suffering_from_Depression. Accessed 30 Jan. 2026.

 

Hughes, Douglas. “Textbook of Men’s Mental Health.” PsychiatryOnline, American Psychiatric Publishing, Inc., 1 Apr. 2008, psychiatryonline.org/doi/10.1176/ps.2008.59.4.449a. Accessed 29 Jan. 2026.

 

McEwen, Bruce S. “Protective and Damaging Effects of Stress Mediators.” New England Journal of Medicine, vol. 338, no. 3, 1998, pp. 171–179, https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJM19980115338030. Accessed 30 Jan. 2026.

 

Real, Terrence. I Don’t Want to Talk About It: Overcoming the Secret Legacy of Male Depression. Scribner, 1998.

 

Taie, Soheyla, and Laurie Lewis. “Characteristics of 2020–21 Public and Private K–12 School Principals in the United States.” National Center for Education Statistics (NCES), U.S. Department of Education, 2022, nces.ed.gov/pubs2022/2022112.pdf. Accessed 08 Feb. 2026.

 

Wolpert, Lewis. Why Can’t a Man Be More like a Woman?: The Evolution of Sex and Gender. Skyhorse Publishing, 2014.

 

Yehuda, Rachel, et al. “Holocaust Exposure Induced Intergenerational Effects on FKBP5 Methylation.” Biological Psychiatry, vol. 80, no. 5, 2016, pp. 372–380, https://psycnet.apa.org/record/2016-39434-009. Accessed 08 Feb. 2026.

 

Zippia. “Female-Led Households in the United States.” Zippia, 2025, www.zippia.com/. Accessed 08 Feb. 2026.