The word confession carries considerable weight. For many, it evokes images of dark booths, whispered sins, and the heavy burden of judgment. It has long been associated with guilt, penance, and the hope of absolution, something endured rather than embraced.

Yet confession can be something entirely different. It need not be a ritual of humiliation or an expression of shame. At its best, confession is an act of bravery, more about honesty than guilt. And as the Buddha reminded us, “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”

In therapy, we often encounter a longing for the polished self: the one who is healed, organised, and beyond doubt. More often, healing involves befriending the cracks, not sealing them. It’s about attuning ourselves to the truth that wholeness is not the opposite of brokenness; it includes it. This is not easy. We’ve been conditioned to perfect and present ourselves; to tidy up before facing others. Accepting imperfection means allowing grief and gratitude to share the same breath. It means welcoming the parts of us that never quite got it right and noticing that perhaps they’re the most interesting ones.

There is a certain stillness that grief brings. It is not merely an empty space, but a slowing of the world around us, a quieting of urgency, a halt to the impulse to fix, solve, or explain. In grief, life no longer flows in straight lines. Instead, it folds back on itself, weighed down with memory and absence. We are faced with a truth that cannot be altered: something has ended, or someone we love is no longer with us.

The manosphere is a loosely connected yet profoundly influential digital ecosystem that offers men a prescriptive worldview on gender, sex, and social worth. Encompassing dating coaches, fitness influencers, incels, and self-proclaimed alpha males, its core message is unmistakable: modern masculinity is under threat, and salvation lies in dominance, control, and relentless self-optimisation.