Wildlydj: The Life of DJ Lieberman

The Arctic helped me breathe again.

Not just in the physical sense; though the cold air, long roads, and silence absolutely cleared something in me, but in a deeper way.
Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.

As a man who openly advocates for men’s mental health, I’ve had to learn the hard way that healing isn’t one-size-fits-all.
We’re taught to be strong. Stoic. Unshaken.
We’re taught to internalize instead of express, to fix instead of feel. This cultural conditioning often leads to a suppression of emotions, creating a facade of toughness that masks vulnerability. The reality is that acknowledging our struggles is not a weakness, but rather a pivotal step towards genuine healing.

Sharing our experiences and seeking support, whether through therapy, friendships, or communities, can redefine our understanding of strength. It encourages us to break free from the chains of societal expectations and embrace the authenticity of our emotions. In doing so, we can foster deeper connections with others who may be navigating similar challenges, thus creating a supportive network that thrives on empathy and understanding.

In this journey called life, it’s important to recognize that each individual’s path to healing may be different, influenced by personal experiences and environments. Some may find solace in solitary reflection, while others may seek the comfort of community experiences. It’s important that we validate these diverse approaches, highlighting the importance of an open dialogue on the varied needs of men as they navigate their mental health.

Understanding that mental health is not a linear path can empower us to approach our individual journeys with patience and compassion. We need to dismantle the stigma surrounding mental health by encouraging conversations that promote vulnerability and openness. Within these discussions, we can find strength and solidarity, transforming our narratives from one of isolation to collective resilience.

But here’s the truth: that kind of silence was slowly erasing me. By choosing to speak up and share my story, I opened the door not only for my own healing but also for others who may be silently struggling. It is in the act of sharing that we can catalyze change, reshaping the narrative around men’s mental health to one that emphasizes connection, support, and the courage to be vulnerable.

This trip, through Gwich’in and Inuvialuit lands, across the Dempster Highway, ferry by ferry, village by village, wasn’t just an adventure but a journey into my own spirit. It was sacred, each stretch of road and each interaction with the land weaving an intricate tapestry of history and respect.
It was soul work, allowing me to unravel the complexities within and realign with the essence of who I truly am. This immersion in nature’s untouched beauty felt like a pilgrimage, invoking age-old traditions and stories of the Indigenous peoples who have called this land home long before me.
It was me stepping into my own stillness so I could actually hear myself again; the whispers of the wind, the rustle of leaves, and the distant calls of wildlife became a gentle reminder of the connection we all share with the earth. I found clarity, purpose, and a renewed appreciation for the sacredness of life itself.

And I made a very personal choice while I was out there:
I paused my medications; intentionally, temporarily, and with full self-awareness.
Not to be reckless. Not to reject what has helped me.
But because I wanted to feel everything. Raw. Unfiltered.
The grief I’ve buried. The questions I’ve carried. The pride I’ve been too quiet about.
I wanted to stand in the discomfort, the beauty, the magnitude of it all, and not dull a single part of it.

Because for me, sometimes healing doesn’t come in the form of a prescription.
It comes from being alone on a stretch of Arctic Road with no cell signal, no expectations, no one to perform for. In that solitude, there was a profound sense of liberation that washed over me. I was able to confront the parts of myself that I often suppressed or overlooked. The raw emotions came to the surface, allowing me to acknowledge my grief, questions, and even my unvoiced pride. It was like I was peeling back the layers of my own being, realizing just how much I had held back just trying to hold it all together.

Each mile that passed was a reminder of my own humanity, the complexities of life that often get overshadowed by our daily routines. The isolation of the landscape mirrored the inner landscape of my heart and mind. I thought of the moments that defined me, the victories that felt small, and the losses that weighed heavily on my spirit. I was reminded that growth requires both joy and pain and that sitting with my emotions, even though it was uncomfortable, it was a powerful act of self-love.

With every breath of crisp, cold air, I felt a sense of clarity emerge. It became apparent that allowing myself to truly experience these feelings was the key to unlocking a deeper understanding of myself. I realized that this journey was not just about escaping the world but about embracing it fully, all the messy, beautiful, and often chaotic parts. It was about reclaiming my narrative in a world that often tries to dictate how we should feel and act.

I emerged from that experience transformed, carrying with me a renewed sense of purpose and an acceptance of my multifaceted self. In choosing to pause, I discovered emotions waiting to be explored and celebrated. Sometimes, to heal fully, we must embark on courageous journeys into the depths of our own hearts, facing whatever comes our way with open arms.

To me, getting out in the middle of nowhere, pushing past my physical limits, confronting my fears, is more healing than anything else.
Because in that space, surrounded by vast landscapes and untouched nature, I remember why I’m here.
I find clarity in the silence, a space where my mind can roam free and reflect on the journey I’ve taken.
Why I do the work I do becomes unmistakably clear as I reconnect with my passion and purpose.
The challenges I face in these moments translate to resilience in my everyday life, reaffirming my commitment to the mission I hold dear.
And who I do it for; my family, my friends, and those who rely on me, brings me a sense of gratitude that fuels my drive to continue forward.

I do it for the men who don’t feel safe to speak, for the voices that get drowned out by societal expectations and the weight of silence.
For the men who were never taught how to cry, who hold their emotions inside like a storm waiting to break, afraid of the vulnerability that comes with openness.
For the boys inside those men who were told they had to grow up fast and never look back, who carry the burden of unfulfilled childhood dreams and the longing for a time when innocence was not overshadowed by the burdens of adulthood.

I do it for those of us who carry heavy things in silence, burdened with the weight of our struggles and fears, yet are learning how to put them down, one small step at a time, embracing the courage it takes to let go, to accept support from others, and to find solace in the shared experience of our journey toward healing and self-discovery.

Out in the Arctic, I cried.
I sat with myself, allowing the cold air to fill my lungs, and I forgave myself for the burdens I had carried for far too long.
I remembered my ancestors, their struggles and triumphs, their wisdom woven into the fabric of my being.
And at 10:45am, on my 30th birthday, I stepped into the Arctic Ocean to perform a mikvah, a Jewish ritual of spiritual renewal that connects me to generations past.
As the frigid water embraced me, I felt each wave wash away the doubts and fears that had haunted me.
I came out of that water shivering, but clear, the chill invigorating my senses and reminding me of my resilience.
Something in me shifted; I felt lighter, freer, and more alive than I had in years. And I know I’ll carry that moment for the rest of my life, a reminder that rebirth is always possible, even in the coldest, most desolate places.

I’m not saying this is the way for everyone. It’s not.
Medication can save lives; it can provide the necessary support during challenging times, helping individuals regain stability when the world feels overwhelming. Therapy can save lives, offering a safe space for deep introspection and healing through human connection and understanding. Community can save lives, fostering relationships that nurture and uplift us, reminding us that we are never truly alone in our struggles.
But for me, this was part of my path, a chapter that needed to be written in cold air, on ancestral land, in stillness, where I could hear the whispers of the past guiding me and feel the weight of the earth beneath me, grounding my thoughts and emotions, transforming pain into strength as I reflected on my journey and embraced the lessons life had to offer.

If you’re a man reading this, and you’re struggling:
Please know this…

You are not alone.
You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, even when the weight feels overwhelming and the path ahead seems unclear.
You don’t have to be anyone’s version of “strong” but your own; strength comes in many forms, and your vulnerability is just as powerful as your resilience.
You’re allowed to feel every emotion, from joy to sorrow, it’s valid and part of the human experience.
You’re allowed to break down and rebuild, to let the pieces scattered around you become the foundation for a new beginning.
You’re allowed to heal; on your terms, in your own time, taking the steps that feel right for you, as you navigate your unique journey of growth and self-discovery.

And whether your healing comes from a therapist’s office, a support group, a mountain trail, or an ocean at the end of the world, I hope you find it.
And I hope you let it find you, too.

Because you’re still here.
And that means something.

🧠 Men’s Mental Health Resources – Alaska + National

Alaska-Based Resources

• Careline Alaska – Call or Text: 988 or 1-877-266-HELP (4357)
  Alaska’s statewide 24/7 crisis line — confidential, free, and deeply rooted in local context.
• Southcentral Foundation Behavioral Health (Anchorage + Rural Alaska)
  Culturally responsive counseling and men’s support groups. www.southcentralfoundation.com
• ANHC Traditional Healing Program (Alaska Native Health Consortium)
  Offers access to traditional healers, talking circles, and wellness support rooted in Alaska Native culture.
• NAMI Alaska – www.namialaska.org
  Offers peer groups, education, and advocacy for mental health across the state.
• Alaska Men Choose Respect
  Encouraging healthy masculinity and emotional resilience through public health and prevention work.
• Alaska Behavioral Health – www.akbh.org
  Anchorage-based with telehealth options statewide. Offers trauma-informed, inclusive mental health care.

National Men’s Mental Health Resources

• HeadsUpGuys – headsupguys.org
  Focused on depression in men, with real tools and relatable stories.
• Man Therapy – mantherapy.org
  Combines mental health resources with approachable, guy-to-guy humor and strategy.
• Therapy for Black Men – therapyforblackmen.org
  Connecting men of color with culturally competent mental health professionals.
• StrongHearts Native Helpline – 1-844-762-8483
  Support for Native men and women experiencing emotional, relational, or spiritual distress.
• Jewish Family & Children’s Services (Local chapters in most cities)
  Many offer therapy, spiritual counseling, and men’s support circles rooted in Jewish values and community.
• Muslim Mental Health Resources – U.S.-Based
  • Khalil Center – khalilcenter.com
    Islamic psychotherapy rooted in traditional Islamic spiritual teachings and modern clinical practice. Offices in CA, IL, NY + telehealth in many states.
  • Maristan – maristan.org
    Founded by Dr. Rania Awaad. Offers trauma-informed, spiritually integrated therapy, suicide prevention, and community education. Based in California, open to broader U.S. Muslim communities.
  • MPSN (Muslim Peer Support Network) – mpsn.org
    Free, online peer-led support groups for Muslims navigating mental health, trauma, faith transitions, and more. Separate groups for men, converts, and youth.
  • Hotlines, Helplines, and Text-Based Support
  • Naseeha Mental Health Helpline – naseeha.org
    Anonymous support line for Muslims struggling with mental health, relationships, identity, or addiction.
    Call or text: 1-866-627-3342 (Available in the U.S. & Canada)
  • Amala Hopeline – amalamentalhealth.org
    Peer support line staffed by trained Muslim volunteers. Emotional first aid for Muslim youth and young adults.