Little mishaps reveal big problems. For me, it was burned hard-boiled eggs.

I’ve been making them about once a week as a go-to breakfast when I started getting healthy. But the other day, I forgot to turn down the heat once the water started to boil. I had gotten sidetracked dealing with several tasks at work. Then the smoke alarm went off. Our newly remodeled kitchen was covered with exploded eggs, and smoke billowed out of the pot. Fortunately, the house didn’t catch fire. It took several hours, but I cleaned up the kitchen and even saved the pot, but I was filled with self-rage. Once again, I had fallen into my familiar pattern: Taking on more than I can do. Thinking I can handle everything at once. Making up for sleep with caffeine. Constantly demanding more from myself than was physically possible, and then hating myself for falling short.

I had a long talk with my daughter about my feelings. I don’t like to bother my children with my problems, but she’s always been a sympathetic listener. She’s also struggled with the same feelings of pushing herself to do more for others while neglecting her needs. A couple of things from our talk stuck in my mind. The first is to get therapy, which I’ve done. The second is about internalized misogyny. She assured me I wasn’t misogynistic towards women, but I was trapped by the same beliefs about masculinity: Men must always be strong. We can’t ask for help, or we’d appear weak. We can’t refuse to take on responsibilities, or we’d look expendable. And we can never retire because we’d seem useless if we don’t provide.

While toxic masculinity hurts men, it’s especially horrific to women. This leads us to Eric Swalwell. I admired his courage at that town hall in Mission Viejo last year, and I had backed him for governor. After the testimony came out (and I believe women), I changed my support to Xavier Becarra. We can’t battle politicians who have done terrible things to women and children while tolerating that behavior on our side.

But Swalwell’s story, in addition to my own meltdown, made me despair about being a man. It seems that for every Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Jeremy Hansen, and Pope Leo, there are a dozen Harvey Weinsteins, Louis CKs, Diddys, and Donald Trumps. Are we trapped by 4,000 years of patriarchy? Or could it be our biological disposition? Can a man be good?

This is not the only question I’m grappling with. Collectively, we’re making hard examinations of the assumptions we’ve built our lives around. What is the value of religion when it is only used to justify barbarity against innocent and vulnerable people? How do we move forward as a country when we see how easily our institutions can be corrupted, and our self-image is based on lies? How many of our own personal beliefs are based on delusions, advertising, selective memories, and inflated egos? We’ve built elaborate mansions on foundations that are cracked and crumbling.

These issues are too big to tackle all at once, but a way to start is to rebuild ourselves.

Perhaps, the way to be a good man is to be a healthy one. To come to terms with my past, to correct the wrongs I have done, and find a way forward. By healing myself, I can encourage others to do the same. So I’m taking my daughter’s advice. Just as I returned to Weight Watchers to restore my physical health, I’m turning to therapy to deal with my mental health.

It’s never too late, even at my age, to begin. And catching the big problems while they only cause little mishaps can prevent major catastrophes. And if we as individuals work on ourselves, society as a whole can heal and grow.

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