The Road to Restoration

When we talk about trauma, especially unresolved trauma, it’s tempting to generalize—to say trauma is trauma, pain is pain. But the truth is, trauma is deeply individual, shaped by the person carrying it, their past, their needs, and their sense of safety in the world.

Abraham Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs gives us a lens to explore why some people experience life-altering trauma from events others may endure and heal from more quickly. But to really understand this, it helps to understand how Maslow uncovered human motivation, and why, even today, society often turns a blind eye.

A Visionary's Journey

Maslow wasn’t satisfied with seeing humans as products of conditioning or pathology. He wanted to understand what makes a person reach their full potential—not just survive, but thrive. He studied people who excelled, who broke barriers, who embodied purpose and depth. From this, he shaped the hierarchy: physiological needs at the base, then safety, love and belonging, esteem, and finally, self-actualization. But what’s often missed is that this pyramid isn’t fixed. It’s dynamic. When the lower levels crumble, the upper ones cannot hold.

Maslow knew we weren't built as machines that can bypass broken systems; we are living structures. And when foundational needs go unmet, we collapse under the weight of pressure that society expects us to carry.

Two Men, Two Realities

Here’s an example to bring this theory closer to home. Consider Shane and Max, two men riding in the same vehicle that was involved in a car accident. Both walk away physically unharmed, yet two entirely different experiences of trauma unfold.

Shane had a healthy childhood. He grew up with parents who were emotionally available, consistent, and supportive. His home was a place of stability, where mistakes were met with guidance, not punishment. He was encouraged to express emotions, taught how to handle setbacks, and surrounded by a network of friends and mentors who reinforced his value.

When the car accident shook his sense of safety, it rattled one layer of his pyramid, but the rest held firm, because his foundation was already built solid. He had the internal and external resources to process the event, seek help, and eventually rebuild.

Max’s story is different. Max grew up on unstable ground. Poverty was a constant shadow. He experienced abandonment early on—whether from absent parents, foster care shuffling, or betrayal by those he depended on. His survival strategies were hardened: trust no one, control everything you can, and bury vulnerability deep.

When the car accident happened, it wasn’t just about the crash; it reopened every raw nerve Max had. His trauma didn’t stop at safety; it tore through belonging, esteem, and purpose, because those layers were already cracked, maybe even hollow, due to a faulty foundation. Max wasn’t just recovering from a crash; he was navigating a lifetime of unresolved pain that magnified every new wound.

This is where Maslow’s brilliance cuts deep: trauma lands differently depending on what you’ve already been forced to endure. For men especially, this can be an unspoken reality—many carry invisible burdens no one sees, and society rarely asks about.

Knowing Your Machine

We've all heard the phrase: take a hard look at yourself. But for many men, that’s just surface talk and rarely digested properly. Most of us men were never provided emotional tools growing up.  We were merely expected to suck it up, push it down and toughen up. So even if we attempted to take a hard look in the mirror, we couldn't see our trauma - since its nearly impossible to see what you can't even acknowledge. 

 True self-examination requires you to stop, sit in silence, and confront what you’ve been avoiding.

Imagine a 1969 Mustang you built from the ground up—you know every sound, every bolt, every quirk. You respect it, maintain it, honor its limits. You spent your time caring for it so therefore you understand how to drive it, and what it needs to excel. 

Now, lets say you inherited a 1969 Mustang that had been stored in a dirt floor garage for the past two decades. It has some underbody rust, layers of dirt and a handful of issues you notice right away to get it road ready. This one requires you to investigate its condition. And even after repairs, you still may stall out on the side of the road because of something deeper going on. 

While its challenging and frustrating work, we work on the Mustang in order to enjoy driving it.

Yet, we treat our own bodies, minds, and spirits like machines we can endlessly push, without properly investigating damage. Most of us don't know our mind and body as well as we know our cars. We ignore warning lights. We dismiss the rattles. We grind through the miles until the whole system becomes faulty.

Isn't that eye opening, though? We would never roll through town ignoring our fender dragging along the cement, or neglect replacing the battery, or avoid a cracked axel. Heck, most of us men wash and vacuum our cars several times a month...

Real masculine strength isn’t about pushing harder. It’s about knowing your system so well that you respect its needs, its limits, and its potential. It’s about rebuilding with precision, not denial.

Maslow’s Blind Spot

While Maslow gave us a groundbreaking framework, even he didn’t fully account for the collective and cultural traumas shaping men today. We live in a world where men are told to be providers, performers, protectors—and yet few are given permission to admit when they are running on empty.

We’re taught that esteem and self-actualization are ours for the taking if we just grind hard enough, hustle long enough, man up fiercely enough.

But here’s the raw truth: you cannot thrive at the top of the pyramid if the base is cracked. You can’t bypass the foundational wounds of betrayal, neglect, or systemic injustice by pretending they don’t matter. Unaddressed trauma doesn’t disappear; it festers. It leaks into relationships, work, health, and purpose.

For men, this weight often becomes a silent toxin—corroding their capacity to lead, to love, and to stand firm in their identity. Studies show that men are far less likely than women to seek mental health treatment, with the National Institute of Mental Health reporting that only about 25% of men struggling with depression actually reach out for help.

Yet we see the ripple effects everywhere: increased rates of substance abuse, aggression, heart disease, and early death. Men carrying untreated trauma aren't just harming themselves—they're creating cycles that echo through families, leaving sons and daughters wondering why their father was distant, angry, or absent.

In society, we praise toughness but ignore the costs. And here’s the wake-up call: a cracked foundation cannot support a kingdom. No matter how strong your ambition, how fierce your drive, if your internal scaffolding is weak, everything you build on top will sway, strain, and eventually fall. Masculine healing isn’t about softness; it’s about fortifying the parts of you that no one else can see but you feel every single day.

This isn’t about sentimentality. It’s about survival with honor. Masculine healing isn’t soft or abstract; it’s exacting. It demands that you strip away the lies, face your broken places, and decide that your legacy will not be one of silent decay.

It requires discipline, not denial. Accountability, not avoidance. And here’s where the conversation deepens: legacy isn’t just about what you build, it’s about what you pass down. Studies show that children of fathers who are emotionally distant or volatile are more likely to struggle with anxiety, depression, and relational dysfunction.

 According to research from the American Psychological Association, children who grow up in households with unresolved paternal trauma face a 40% higher risk of developing their own emotional and behavioral issues. Generational trauma is not theory—it’s a living cycle.

You can build an empire in your business, but if your children inherit emotional scars instead of emotional strength, what have you really built?

For men today, Maslow’s theory isn’t just a psychology textbook—it’s a roadmap.

Being man enough means being brave enough to show the next generation what healing looks like. It’s about teaching our sons how to handle pain with wisdom, not silence; how to lead with vulnerability, not just force. So, take a real look. Not just in the mirror, but under the hood. Ask the hard questions. Do the gritty work. And know this: masculinity at its best is not about domination; it’s about mastery—of self, of pain, of purpose, and of the legacy you leave behind.

For those ready to begin this work, we at CODA and through the PTSD + ME program stand ready to walk beside you. Not to rescue, but to equip. Because no man needs to stay stuck in survival mode forever.

Stay sharp. Stay disciplined. Get yourself road ready

—Troy Rienstra