Ashamed to Take a Sick Day

It’s Monday, and I’m taking a sick day.

No, not a “mental health” day (although sometimes those are desperately needed).

A legit, “I feel like absolute crap” sick day.

And I’m embarrassed by it. I’m embarrassed to express the vulnerability – the weakness – of needing to say, “I can’t do this today.”

I’m a grown man, and so of course I should soldier on and go to work. Right???

Because hey: “dad’s don’t take sick days”:

Part of the reason I don’t like taking sick days is because there’s also this assumption/stereotype that when men get sick, they become babies:

Why is that? Why all the male-bashing?

Unfortunately, men have learned (the hard way) not to open up. Not to our friends, not to our girlfriends & wives, etc. So we keep it in.

We keep everything in.

Because let's face it, a man isn't worth anything if he can't produce income, make something of himself (is this why Paul so that he who doesn't work is worse than a nonbeliever? 1 Timothy 5:8). We love the concept of a self-made man in America but everyone is a product of the company they keep.

So could it be that, when we are sick and physically weak – when we are finally allowed to be vulnerable – that the floodgates burst and we become almost incapacitated (according to the stereotype)?

Here’s my question: How sick do I have to be to feel okay about taking a day off? How weak do I need to be to confess, “I can’t come to work today”?

• My head throbs with no movement and aches even worse with any movement whatsoever (for which taking headache meds).
• My nose runs so bad that it drips with little-to-no warning (taking pseudo-fed, using a vapor rub, and a Vick’s “inhaler” laced with menthol).
• My throat is so scratchy that I make every attempt possible to minimize talking in order to avoid coughing (so much so that it makes me want to throw back cough drops like nobody’s business).

This is not me complaining; for the most part, I’m a pretty healthy person and I can deal with some things that others can’t and don’t suffer from some things that others do.

(This is not me bragging; I’m simply listing the facts of my health at the moment.)

But I also am not used to being vulnerable enough to allow interdependence – to allow someone else to take care of me, to meet a need that I can’t take care of on my own.

In the wounds we take while growing up (see link for “not to our friends” above), we learn to become very guarded. We don’t open up because we don’t want to become (even more) hurt (than we already are).

For men, taking care of everyone else with no one to take care of us takes quite a toll on our hearts, our mental toughness. Always trudging on because of discipline and not from a core of genuine strength leaves us playing the part without feeling like we can.

So when we become sick, it allows us to truly be ourselves in expressing that weakness. As Stu Sheppard said in Phoneboooth:

“I’ve been dressing up as something I’m not for so long; I’m so afraid you won’t like what’s underneath. But here I am: I’m just flesh and blood. And weakness.”

So let’s stop shaming people for expressing weakness.

Let’s allow people to open up and be vulnerable to receive the relational food – the love – that we all need.

Let’s find ways to empower others to be as self-sufficient as possible.

And let’s look out for one another’s good enough where we can become interdependent and actually need each other.