Boys don't cry

When Strength Looks Like Struggle: Men, Mental Health, and the Power of Reaching Out

When we picture mental health struggles, we might think of someone who’s visibly overwhelmed — tearful, talking, asking for help. But for many men, distress doesn’t look like this. It hides behind long hours at work, over drinking/eating, irritability, or emotional shutdown. It shows up in silence.

Stigma and Masculinity – The Invisible Barrier

Society often teaches boys early on to be “tough,” “brave,” and “in control.” These ideas can help build confidence, but they also make it harder to ask for help later in life. As men grow up, they’re often expected to manage emotions privately, to be “strong” no matter what’s going on underneath.

When depression, anxiety, or trauma hit, many men don't reach out – not because they don’t need support, but because they’ve been taught that asking makes them weak. The stigma attached to therapy or emotional vulnerability can be deeply ingrained. And unfortunately, this silence can lead to worsening mental health, relationship breakdowns, and isolation.

Case Study: “David” – Age 38

David (name changed for confidentiality) came to therapy after months of sleepless nights, low energy, and a persistent sense of failure. At 38, he was successful in his career but felt chronically anxious and deeply lonely. He had been through several short-term relationships but struggled with emotional closeness and often pulled away when things got serious.

“I just don’t know how to do this,” he told me. “I feel like I’m wired wrong. I can hold it together at work, but I shut down when someone tries to get close.”

David’s story is not uncommon. Underneath the anxiety and low mood was a deep fear of being vulnerable — of being seen. He had grown up believing that men shouldn’t cry, shouldn’t talk about their feelings, and should always keep going no matter what. Therapy offered a different kind of space: one where he didn’t have to have the answers, where he could be met with curiosity instead of judgment.

Over time, we explored how his early experiences shaped his beliefs about himself and his worth. We worked on identifying the unspoken rules he had absorbed about masculinity and strength. Through gentle reflection and small behaviour changes David began to feel more in control — not because he was suppressing his emotions, but because he was learning to understand them.

A Cultural Mirror: Tony Soprano in Therapy

This tension is captured so clearly in The Sopranos, where mob boss Tony Soprano sits across from his therapist, Dr. Melfi. Despite being powerful and feared, Tony experiences crippling anxiety attacks that bring him to therapy — a place he both desperately needs and deeply resents.

Tony’s journey is a raw, sometimes painful example of how masculinity and vulnerability collide. He often mocks therapy, resists emotional honesty, and masks pain with aggression. But at the same time, viewers see glimpses of real insight — moments where he connects the dots between his feelings, his past, and his actions.

“I came here to get help. Not to be … analyzed,” he says in frustration. But underneath the bravado is a man who wants to feel better but doesn’t know how.

Tony represents so many men who are told to stay in control at all costs — even if that control is killing them. His story reminds us that therapy isn’t about becoming someone else; it’s about finally giving yourself permission to be who you really are.

Changing the Narrative

Mental health support isn’t about weakness — it’s about resilience. Therapy can be a space to make sense of confusion, to explore patterns, and to rebuild emotional connection. For many men, it starts with a quiet decision: to stop pushing everything down and to start listening to what’s really going on inside.

And yes, the system needs to do better too. Services need to be more accessible, language more inclusive, and public health messages need to reflect the realities of men’s experiences.

You Are Not Alone

Therapy offers more than coping strategies. It can be a space of quiet re-alignment — a place to listen not only to your thoughts, but to your inner self. The path might not be linear, but every step toward wholeness matters.