Patrick McCormick
Patrick McCormick, a psychotherapist licensed in CA and a former New York ad man, spoke to us about common problems his male-identifying clients face, problems he himself has faced, and some of the best methods you can use to address your behaviors and create a better life for yourself and those around you.
You can find out more about Patrick by following him on instagram and visiting his website.
You can read our conversation with Patrick McCormick below, or watch the entire conversation here.
a bit about yourself, who you are and what interests you about Under the Hood Talk?
I'm Patch, a therapist for men and couples—a psychotherapist. How it relates to Under the Hood Talk, from what I gather from following the platform, it's about creating a dialogue around men and masculinity and helping boys and men. That's basically what I do every day. I actually wanted to be a therapist in high school. I took a psychology class on Freud, which was kind of random to have in high school. At the same time, my friends and I got a ticket for trying to buy alcohol underage. I was assigned either 30 hours of community service or 8 hours of group therapy, so I chose the group therapy and loved it. My interest started around sophomore year of high school, and when I expressed that to friends and family, people tried to convince me not to do it. I followed everyone's advice and took a more traditionally masculine path.
I ended up working in advertising for about eight years in New York City. I was a managing director, ran a few boutique ad agencies, and was good at it. But at the same time, it was unfulfilling, and I felt I was lacking purpose. To perform at a peak level in that industry, you have to engage in a lot of hyper-masculine traits: workaholism, substance use, aggression, dominance, competitiveness. I was prioritizing that over friends and relationships.
What allowed you to transition away from that lifestyle and find a career more aligned with your values?
I started going to therapy myself again after a big breakup and found that I was really engaged in group therapy. I was in a men's group led by a licensed clinical social worker, and I was like, "This is real life. This is people talking about real stuff that I care about." We were really tapping into our emotions. I've been an existentialist my whole life, always questioning meaning, and I started going to Al-Anon as well. I found myself so engaged there. Then I'd go to advertising and think, "How's this helping me in real life?" I wanted a more integrated, purpose-driven life.
It took me about five years to finally take the plunge. I applied to grad school and got into UCLA. My pitch, or what I wanted to go to school for, was to normalize male emotionality. I'd struggled with this my whole life; I was a sensitive kid who grew up in hyper-masculine environments. I learned to numb that sensitivity and banish that part of me, which led to a lot of misery, frankly.
I started to think about what was unique to my experience. What did I have lived experience and intergenerational experience with? What does society really need right now? That combination led me to want to help men. I come from a long line of Navy veterans, admirals going back generations on both sides. The hyper-masculine culture in my family was designed for sending men to war or into business. It was an effective package to create soldiers and businesspeople. In my home, performance was everything. Emotions were feminized and minimized, and competitiveness, domination, and aggression were prioritized. Any form of weakness was snuffed out; it wasn't allowed. I learned that my sensitivity and emotions as a man, the fact that my sister was more "alpha" and competitive than I was, meant I wasn't a "real" man. It made me feel like I was a broken man.
This was reinforced on the playground, where I had tough friends. We were skaters, growing up in '90s LA and hip-hop culture, and it was all about being hard. My friends were hard; they fought all the time, and we never smiled in photos. If you look at photos from that era, I look angry, but the reality was I was more scared than anything. My friends fought every weekend. I wasn't a huge fighter, and I learned that smiling or showing any feminine qualities was weak or might attract a homophobic slur. I could only socialize with other guys. Dancing, fun, or joy wasn't acceptable.
When I got to college, I finally had some freedom, but I carried through with some of that hyper-competitiveness and emotional suppression. One aspect of masculinity in my friend group and family was measuring my masculinity by how many women I could date. I wasn't tough, but I performed that role in dating, using hypersexuality to avoid real intimacy and long-term relationships. In advertising, my workaholism, prioritizing work over friends and romance, working until 3 AM seven days a week, and never taking breaks showed that I could handle the agency culture. Heavy drinking, dating, shallow sexual experiences—all of it kept emotions at bay, especially in my role as a business manager.
How did your previous profession encourage or exacerbate hypermasculine traits?
I often had to crack the whip, enforce timelines, and manage structure, which meant getting angry when people didn’t follow through. I became a version of masculinity I resented growing up. I hated being told what to do and saw that it was all rooted in fear. Most of my time in advertising, I was terribly afraid, always worried things would fall apart, which brought me professional success but damaged my relationships.
It sounds like you had reached what many would view as the kind of apex of what it means to be a succesful, ‘manly’ man... How did that make you feel?
I think I had reached what I thought was the apex of being a man. I had a great career, was well respected, made good money, and lived independently in New York City. I had a social life and was seeing a lot of women. I should have been thrilled, and there were moments of that, but most of the time, I felt lonely and disconnected from myself, from deep relationships. I felt like I was falling behind in who I wanted to be.
As a kid, I was a sensitive guy, kind and gentle, and I always wanted to do something meaningful for others. Becoming a therapist felt like coming home to a version of myself I’d killed, my inner child. In psychology, there’s a concept of the shadow, a part of us we repress, and the "gold in the shadow," representing parts of ourselves that feel unacceptable but are actually gifts. Growing up, my sensitivity seemed weak and unmanly, so I suppressed it. But the further I got from that part of myself, the more inauthentic I felt. Now, my sensitivity is my superpower. It makes me good at my job and pays the bills. I'm more aligned with the real me. Sometimes I still make mistakes, but I’m closer to the person I want to be.
This aligns with a concept I call "integrated masculinity." I’m not fully there yet, but I’m closer than before. Integrated masculinity is like the yin-yang symbol, representing balance between masculine and feminine energy. I’d exiled the sensitivity deemed "feminine" and leaned into aggression and competition, leaving me feeling alone. Accepting my different parts has made me more balanced.
Realizing that life was not what you wanted for yourself, what came next and how did you get there?
A book that helped me in my journey is Designing Your Life, which has an exercise called the Good Time Journal. You keep a journal of your energy levels throughout the day. When you feel energized, take note of what you're doing, and when you feel drained, note that too. This gives insight into what consistently makes you happy or unhappy. If you grew up in a performance-driven environment like mine, you might unlearn what you actually enjoy to survive, leaving you unsure about your true desires.
Is there an issue that most often comes up in your meetings with male clients?
For many men I work with, the main struggle is understanding and communicating emotions, often due to societal expectations that emotions are weak. Since emotions live in our bodies, learning to tune into them is essential. Helping men get out of their heads and into their bodies is a big part of my work.
What’s the difference between a ‘nice guy’ and a ‘kind guy?’
I often work with "nice guys," a term coined by Dr. Robert Glover, author of No More Mr. Nice Guy. A nice guy subjugates his needs to be liked, often feeling unfulfilled and trapped. With these men, we focus on boundaries, tapping into emotions, and assertive communication. The difference between a nice guy and a kind guy is that a nice guy pleases others to be liked, which is manipulative. A kind guy, on the other hand, asserts his needs clearly, setting boundaries for himself and others.
Is there a reason you prefer not to use the term ‘toxic masculinity?’
The term "toxic masculinity" often raises defenses, as many men feel it’s a threat. To encourage healthier masculinity, we need men to feel safe, and language matters. For me, applying radical genuineness in everyday life means assertive communication. Assertiveness is win-win: both parties feel respected, boundaries are set, and there’s room for emotional honesty. I’ve turned former enemies into friends simply by honestly expressing that their actions hurt.
Any advice you would give to viewers looking to make a change in their lives?
For men looking for change, joining a men's therapy group can be life-changing. There’s immense healing power in groups, which provide support, accountability, and a safe space to explore emotions. I also recommend Al-Anon, therapy, or coaching. Choose someone who aligns with your values, feels safe, and will challenge you.
Any recommended reading you can leave us with?
Some of the most transformative books for understanding men and masculinity are The Will to Change by bell hooks, Iron John, and No More Mr. Nice Guy. They offer invaluable insights and a framework for healthier masculinity. Hyper-masculine values—like competition, stoicism, autonomy, grandiosity, aggression, and hypersexuality—often lead to isolation and harm. These values are portrayed in media and contribute to societal issues like depression and loneliness among men. Addressing this isn't about demonizing men but recognizing that these rigid expectations harm everyone.
Betty Friedan’s insight on involving men in conversations about gender equality resonated with me. We need to include men in these discussions and focus on dismantling hyper-masculinity. Hyper-masculine traits can affect anyone, regardless of gender, and addressing these traits is the system we need to rewrite.