I have been a men’s mental health practitioner since November 21, 1969, when I held my newborn son and vowed to be a different father than my father could be to me and to do what I could to improve my mental situation. , emotional and relational lives of men and their families. Along the way I earned a Master of Social Work (MSW), a PhD in International Health and wrote 17 books, including Looking for love in all the wrong places: Overcoming romantic and sexual addictions and The Irritable Man Syndrome: Understanding and Managing the 4 Root Causes of Depression and Aggression. These are the lessons I’ve learned along the way.
Part 1
Where I Come From: My Origin Story
In my most recent post, “Calling All Men: Welcome to the First Day of the Rest of Your Life,” I talked about the changing world we all find ourselves in and what we should do next in our lives. I quoted Vaclav Havel
“Today many things show that we are going through a transitional period, when it seems that something is progressing and something else is painfully born. It is as if something is collapsing, disintegrating and exhausting, while something else, still undefined, emerges from the ruins.”
I believe we all feel the truth of these words and seek a community of support.
I’m reaching out to men because I think men are especially in need of support these days and because women tell me if there was anything I could do to help theirit would be to help the men in their lives—their husbands, sons, fathers, friends, and colleagues.
I will be offering several new program opportunities for men in early 2025. From now on, I would like to share some of what I have learned along the way in my work so far. I look forward to your questions, comments and suggestions. Feel free to email me directly: Jed@MenAlive.com and put “Calling All Men” in the subject line and I will respond.
When I advise people, I ask them often
“Tell me about your parents’ lives five years before you were born.”
It’s a way to get in touch with some important information about who they are. Were there any other children in the family before you were born? What were your parents like before you came into the world? Did they want more children? Did they want a boy or a girl? How did your parents meet, get married and decide to have children?
I was born on December 21, 1943. My parents had been trying to have a child since they first married in 1934, but they couldn’t. After consulting with their doctor, he suggested a new technique that was not widely practiced at the time of collecting my father’s sperm and injecting it into my mother’s abdomen. It later became known as the “turkey baster” method. They were successful and I became my parent’s first and only child.
Ever since he was a young man growing up in Jacksonville, Florida, my father wanted to be an actor. On May 17, 1929, at the age of twenty-two, he went to New York in hopes of making it in the “Big Apple.” I’ve always wondered about the origin of the term to describe New York.
I learned that in the 1920s, sportswriter John J. FitzGerald popularized the term after hearing African-American stables in New Orleans use it to refer to New York’s racetracks. FitzGerald titled his horse racing columns “On the Big Apple” and “Around the Big Apple.”
My father described his own early experience with New York in one of his earliest journal entries:
With the praises of my followers in the Little Theater ringing in my ears, I left my hometown. For the privilege of driving a poultry farmer and her family to New York, I received free transportation. After an arduous journey of thousands of miles, we arrived. The farmer and her children went to a road. I checked in at the Grand Hotel. One day was all I could afford.
A piece of rubbish in the Morning Telegraph hit me between the teeth. The famous actress, producer and director Eva Le Gallienne was auditioning for her repertory company. That was my cue to head down 14th street. The stairs were rickety, but the smell was right. My nostrils flared like those of a large rabbit. This was the theater.
He described the initial interview with Miss Le Gallien’s assistant, whom he impressed enough to be granted an audience the next day with Miss L. herself.
The rickety stairs again. I took it slow. It was stage fright all right. Everything was chattering, from my teeth down. There was a cathedral-like silence around the place. This was nice, no instrumental music. That made it perfect. Would Mrs L…? But I didn’t have a chance to finish the thought. At the top of the stairs, behind a screen, the young producer-director sat serene and friendly. Young too. Red, blonde bob. Earrings, blue satin blouse and skirt.
He didn’t waste a second. “What’s your name and what are you going to do?” A scene from “The Man Who Came Back”. They loved this at home. I lit a cigarette and gave a thrill to an imaginary woman on the floor. After my dramatic moment, Miss L gave me a scene to read. That was the audition, not anymore. She nodded her approval. “Rehearsals start in two weeks…” Accepted! Accepted! I didn’t think I would sting myself. I bruise easily, but I had to hold on to a chair to keep from floating onto the murals. The stamp of approval from Miss L. Just an apprentice, but in a real professional company. Maybe an opportunity for small pieces. Maybe a chance for stardom.
My mother had come to New York from Savannah, Georgia the previous year at the age of twenty and settled in Greenwich Village. The Village was not only a great place for creative artists, but also for creative lovers. My mother, I later learned, experimented sexually. He had a lot of boyfriends and although he never directly came out and said it, I suspect he had a few girlfriends as well.
While my father was busy with the theater, my mother worked as a secretary to make ends meet and enjoyed the bohemian life of the village during the 20s. Over time they spent more and more time together, fell in love and became involved in the political activities of the time.
“I still remember the May Day marches in the 1930s,”
my mother told me years later.
“We’d get off work and walk down Fifth Avenue together. Progressives of all stripes marched for workers’ rights, opposed racism, and pushed for the integration of minorities into the fabric of America. It was very festive and patriotic.”
he said proudly.
“We all wore red and marched to support our country. We wanted America to live up to the ideals on which it was founded.”
My mother also described her early pregnancy experiences before I was born.
“When I found out I was pregnant, I was very happy. But I was also afraid of losing you. I remember walking sweetly down 5u Avenue is afraid I’ll lose you. I was anxious throughout the pregnancy and was relieved when you were finally born. Even then, my fear didn’t go away. I always wanted to hold you close and was hesitant to let your father hold you for fear of dropping you.”
“When the doctor announced, ‘Congratulations, ‘It’s a boy!’ we were totally amazed. We were sure we were having a girl. We have selected girl names and dolls for a baby girl. So we had to struggle to decide what to name you. I went with your father who wanted to name you Elliot after his nephew who had recently died but I didn’t like the name and cried for five days until he agreed to name you John after my father who had died when I was five years old.”
“So you finally had an official name on your birth certificate, ‘John Elliott Diamond.’ We kept the dolls you seemed to like. Our family was now complete. We finally had the child we thought we’d never have.”
Life Lesson #1: We cannot understand our lives unless we recognize the gifts given to us by our parents at the time and place of our birth.
Growing up and for most of my life, I didn’t think much about the impact of my early years on who I’ve become. Only in mid-life did these examinations become more imperative. I realized the gifts I received from being born in New York at the time I did. From my parents I got a deep curiosity to explore all aspects of life and the courage to not be afraid to think and live “outside the box” of conventional wisdom.
I got my passion for my work from my father. From my mother I got my passion for exploring sexuality and relationships. I got from both my parents the passion to be my own person. When I went to college, I changed my name from John Elliott Diamond to Jed Diamond. I wanted a name that was sexy, a little mysterious, strong and unique. I chose Jed for me.
Lifetime #2. We also acquire a series of challenges that we spend our lives trying to escape from or learning to embrace.
There were many challenges I had to deal with that had their origins in my early life. From my father I received a passion for his creative work, but also his belief that we must be successful in our careers or die trying. I will have more to say about this challenge in future posts. From my mother I inherited her deep fears of life and death. Later in life I came to recognize and better understand the legacy of fear I had inherited from her.
The English philosopher Thomas Hobbes said of his birth during the turbulent political climate at the time,
“My mother gave birth to twins: myself and fear.”
This realization that I had a hidden twin that I didn’t know was a part of my life was revelatory when I met him, hugged him, and loved him.
These early beliefs, usually embedded deep in our subconscious, can undermine our joy and happiness until we learn to understand and embrace them.
Reflect on your own origin stories and the life lessons you’ve learned. I hope my sharing can stimulate yours at whatever age you are.
If you want to read more about my own journey, let me know. I appreciate your comments and questions. Visit me at www.MenAlive.com.
