Mental Health Wellbeing Trauma
In this episode, Joanne Lockwood speaks with bushcraft instructor and life coach Tom Gold about men’s wellbeing, identity, and the pressures that shape how men show up in the world. The conversation centres on the idea of moving beyond performative toughness and creating spaces where men can be present without having to fix, explain, or always speak.
Tom shares how his work outdoors, especially with men in recovery, uses practical wilderness skills, fire-making, and shared activity to build confidence, resilience, and belonging. He describes how campfire settings can make it easier for men to connect, listen, and speak when they are ready, while also offering a healthier alternative to isolation or harmful influences.
The episode also explores masculinity, male friendship, emotional expression, and the limits of advice-giving when someone simply needs to be heard. Joanne and Tom reflect on the importance of community, support, and understanding in helping men thrive, and on the need for inclusion work to recognise groups who may feel overlooked by broader conversations.
About Tom Gold
One-sentence summary
Tom Gold’s message is that men do not need more pressure to perform strength; they need spaces of trust, steadiness and ordinary human recognition so they can stop surviving and start living.
Synopsis (two paragraphs)
Tom Gold comes across as someone shaped by movement, risk and care. He grew up with a father who taught him practical skills, courage and trust through adventures that were half play, half life lesson: dens, fires, quarries, canals and the kind of rough-edged childhood that leaves a mark. That inheritance stayed with him. Even now, Tom speaks like someone who values competence, calm and presence, but beneath that is a deeper concern for what happens when men are taught to hide, harden and cope alone. He is also a father who has watched his boys grow into men, and that shift has clearly cost him something; he speaks with real tenderness about the end of one chapter and the ache of seeing his sons become independent.
What Tom is trying to change is simple to say and hard to live: he wants men to have places where they can be seen without being interrogated, where they can build confidence without pretending they are fine, and where they can find strength without cruelty or emotional anaesthesia. He does not sound interested in fixing men as if they were broken machines. He is trying to make room for dignity — for the man who stands quietly by the fire, for the father under strain, for the young man pulled by anger, shame or longing for belonging. His work is about giving people something steadier to stand on: a fire, a task, a circle, a pause, a hand on the shoulder. In his words, it is about helping people “stay strong and find peace at the same time.”
10 Small, digestible concepts for easy learning
1. Strength is not the same as suppression.
Tom shows that holding everything in can look strong, but it often comes at a quiet personal cost.
2. Sometimes belonging starts with doing, not talking.
For many men, chopping wood or making a fire opens the door before words do.
3. Silence is not the same as absence.
A man who does not speak may still be present, connected and listening.
4. A good day can be small and still matter.
Making pizzas over a fire or sharing a walk outdoors can become a memory that lasts for years.
5. Support is not always advice.
Often the most powerful thing is simply showing up and staying beside someone.
6. Men often learn care through action.
Tom’s story shows that men may communicate love through steadiness, help and practical presence.
7. Pressure to perform can hide pain.
The “Man Code” may help men get through the day, while quietly leaving them alone inside.
8. A sense of usefulness can be healing.
Helping someone build a fire or create shelter can restore confidence and self-worth.
9. Anger often covers longing.
Some men drawn to anger, flags or polarising figures are really searching for place, purpose and voice.
10. Peace and strength do not have to compete.
Tom’s conviction is that men should not have to choose between being capable and being emotionally well.
The “why” in the story
Tom’s “why” is rooted in a belief that men are not best served by being endlessly told to open up on demand; they are best served by being given conditions where honesty feels possible and safety feels real.
1. The trigger:
Tom’s commitment seems to have been shaped by several moments: his childhood with a father who modelled adventure and trust; the strain of single-handedly holding family life together during difficult periods; and the pain of watching his youngest son go through trouble. He also carries the memory of men around him who were expected to “crack on” even when life was heavy.
2. The tension:
He keeps meeting a conflict between what men are asked to be and what they actually need. He sees the discomfort many men feel in emotional settings, the temptation to retreat into banter or silence, and the shame that can come with not fitting the shiny version of masculinity. He is also wary of well-meant advice that lands as pressure rather than help.
3. The insight:
Tom has learned that men often communicate best through shared work, shared space and shared reliability. He seems to understand that trust is not built by demanding vulnerability on command, but by making it safe enough for it to emerge. He also sees that many men are not resisting care — they are resisting being managed, corrected or turned into a stereotype.
4. The pivot:
He stopped treating emotional support as something that has to look a certain way. Instead, he built his practice around the outdoors, practical tasks, quiet presence and community. He does not force confession; he creates conditions. He chose to value the man who listens quietly, the one who chops wood, the one who comes back later with a question, the one who needs time.
5. The destination:
Tom is aiming for a world where men can be steady without being shut down, vulnerable without being shamed, and connected without having to speak in a language that feels false to them. In human terms, it is a life where men feel they have somewhere to go, someone to stand beside them, and enough peace inside to stop living in survival mode.
Five key takeaways and learning points
1. Not every man opens up by talking.
So what: if we only recognise one style of expression, we miss the men who are struggling quietly.
2. Being useful can be a route to healing.
So what: practical roles can restore dignity for men who no longer feel effective or needed.
3. Men often want company before confession.
So what: a shared task or simple presence can build the trust that later makes honesty possible.
4. Advice is not always support.
So what: when someone is under strain, being heard matters more than being fixed.
5. Belonging protects people from dangerous substitutes.
So what: when men are not genuinely included, anger, identity games and harmful voices can offer a fake sense of home.
Ten distinct ideas explained
1. Presence before performance
Tom’s work suggests that men often need to feel safe in a space before they can speak honestly.
When the pressure to perform drops, the person underneath has more room to breathe.
2. The emotional value of practical tasks
Building a fire or preparing food is not just “doing something”; it can be a way of restoring confidence.
For some men, competence is the first doorway back to self-respect.
3. Quiet connection still counts
A nod, a shoulder tap or simply sitting together can carry real meaning.
Men do not always need a big emotional display to know they are not alone.
4. The cost of the “Man Code”
Tom describes a script of always acting strong, always saying fine, and never letting the inside show.
It can help men survive, but it also keeps them trapped and unseen.
5. Support should meet people where they are
Not everyone wants group hugs, deep sharing or public vulnerability.
Respecting different ways of being is part of respecting people themselves.
6. Belonging can be built around a fire
Tom is drawn to the circle because people relax into it naturally.
It speaks to something old and human: warmth, safety, attention and shared stillness.
7. Men often care through action
Tom’s father did not always use words, but he showed up.
That kind of care can be deeply felt, especially in families where speaking feelings was never the norm.
8. Anger is sometimes a cloak for dislocation
Tom points to young men drawn to polarising figures or public protests because they are searching for place and purpose.
The emotional need underneath is often simpler than the rhetoric suggests.
9. Being seen can reduce harm
When people feel known and included, they are less likely to reach for destructive identities or behaviours.
Recognition is not soft; it is protective.
10. Strength and peace can coexist
Tom refuses the old idea that men must be either hard or open, capable or calm, useful or soft.
His work is about making room for both solidity and relief in the same life.
How people should change as a result
1. Think
- Stop assuming that silence means disengagement or emotional absence.
- Shift from “How do we make him talk?” to “How do we make this feel safe enough?”
- See support as something practical, relational and human — not always verbal.
- Recognise that many men are not rejecting help; they are rejecting humiliation, pressure or stereotype.
2. Feel
- Move from judgement to curiosity.
- Move from frustration with “closed-off” men to compassion for how they were taught.
- Move from wanting quick disclosure to respecting slower trust.
- Move from seeing masculinity as a problem to seeing it as something that can be cared for.
3. Act
- Invite men into shared activity: walking, cooking, fixing, building, making, carrying, preparing.
- Offer presence without forcing a conversation; let silence be welcome.
- Ask practical, grounded questions rather than immediately jumping to solutions.
- Notice the quiet man in the group and make space for him without putting him on the spot.
- When someone shares, respond with acknowledgement before advice.
- Create spaces that feel steady, unperformative and human — a