A psychologist’s reflection on shame, stress, and the surprising strength of vulnerability.
Some men don’t come to therapy because things are falling apart. They come because keeping it all together is starting to crack something inside. They’re not sure what they’ll say, but they know they can’t keep holding it alone. Beneath the surface, there’s often a quiet shame—not always about something they’ve done, but about what they’ve avoided. Shame about telling the full truth. About disappointing people. About not being who they hoped they’d be by now.
So instead, they stay in motion. They manage things. They talk about problems they hope can be fixed—work stress, sleep issues, relationship tension—without naming what those things are really pointing to. But when they’re finally given space to slow down, they realize the shame was never a signal to hide. It was a doorway to something deeper.
When a man first walks into my office, he usually comes prepared to talk about his problems. He’ll tell me about work stress, relationship tension, trouble sleeping, or how he’s been more irritable than usual. He often assumes we’ll talk it through, I’ll offer a few insights, and he’ll leave with a clear solution. That’s how many men approach therapy at first—like a task to complete or a situation to fix. And it makes sense. Most were raised to be problem-solvers, not emotional explorers.
But as we talk, something often begins to shift. I’m not there to pry or push them into vulnerability—I’m there to listen. To help connect the dots between things that may not seem connected at first. And beneath the stress, the sleep issues, and the short temper, I often hear something far more human: a sense of disconnection. A quiet grief. A fatigue that’s more than physical.
What tends to surprise them is that the real change doesn’t come from solving the problem directly. It comes from understanding what’s underneath it. From moving out of fix-it mode and into a kind of honest awareness they may not be used to. There’s something powerful that happens when a man realizes he doesn’t have to perform in the therapy room. He can just be. And in that being, something softens.
That’s where we begin.
Social Media Isn’t Causing the Pain—But It’s Complicating the Silence
Most of the men I work with didn’t grow up with social media. They came of age in a time when success was measured by hard work, financial independence, and showing up for your family—not by followers, likes, or personal branding. They were raised to be strong, self-reliant, and capable. Vulnerability wasn’t encouraged—it was seen as indulgent, or worse, weak.
Now they live in a world that demands constant visibility.
Even if they’re not posting, they’re watching.
And quietly, they’re comparing.
They see photos of men their age with new homes, smiling partners, thriving businesses, or adventurous lives. Even if they logically know those feeds are curated, something internal stirs.
“Why haven’t I figured it out by now?”
“What do people see when they look at me?”
“Am I where I’m supposed to be?”
For men who already carry a sense of shame—not necessarily about what they’ve done, but about what they haven’t lived up to—social media becomes a quiet echo chamber. It reflects back the gap between the image they feel they should be presenting and the truth they’re working hard to avoid.
Sometimes, their response is withdrawal. Sometimes it’s overcompensation.
But either way, the loneliness deepens—and so does the pressure to keep performing.
A recent APA survey found that 58% of U.S. adults believe social media negatively impacts their mental health APA, 2023
Therapy becomes a space where that performance can finally stop. Where the curated image is set aside, and what’s real—messy, raw, uncertain—can be met with honesty, not judgment. For many men, that’s the first time they’ve felt truly seen.
The 11-Year Delay That Hurts in Silence
According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, men wait an average of 11 years between the onset of symptoms and receiving support NAMI, 2023
That’s more than a decade of quiet endurance. Of minimizing. Of shrugging off signals that something deeper might need attention. And during that time, emotional pain doesn’t just sit still—it grows. It turns into irritability, apathy, or chronic tension.
Sometimes the only symptom is a vague, persistent sense that life has dulled.
Jason, the CEO Who Lived Life Too Seriously
Jason, 47, built his business from the ground up.
He had grown up in a stable home, embracing traditional values and believing deeply that his job was to be the provider. From a young age, he internalized that success meant hard work, financial stability, and protecting the people he loved.
And he did. For years.
He worked long hours. He provided. He succeeded. But somewhere along the way, he lost something. His marriage had grown stale. And what struck him hardest wasn’t anything anyone said—it was what his kids stopped saying. They no longer asked if he’d come to their games or recitals. They just assumed he’d be working late. That quiet shift hit him harder than any criticism could have.
At first, Jason blamed burnout. But in therapy, the truth came forward: He hadn’t just disconnected from his family. He had disconnected from himself. Therapy didn’t remove the stress—but it gave Jason space to feel again. To show up as more than a provider.
To remember the parts of himself that had been buried under years of responsibility.
Jason came to understand that he’d been prioritizing work over family—when family had been the priority all along. And from that clarity, he began to make small but meaningful shifts in how he showed up—more present, more balanced, and more in touch with the version of himself he actually wanted to be.
He didn’t fall apart. He stepped back in.
Because leadership at work means little if you’ve disappeared from your own life.
When Pain Hides in the Body
Research shows that men are far more likely to report physical symptoms—like back pain, digestive issues, fatigue, and irritability—when experiencing depression or anxiety Harvard Health, 2020
Culturally, men are trained to keep their emotions quiet—so the body speaks louder.
These symptoms aren’t random. They’re messages.
And therapy helps translate them.
Marcus, the Builder Whose Body Started Speaking First
Marcus, 41, had always been the dependable one. He showed up early, paid the bills, fixed what was broken. Feelings weren’t really part of the job description, but his body started to tell a different story. His back hurt constantly and he wasn’t sleeping. His patience was limited. And the more he tried to ignore it, the louder it got.
His wife booked him a therapy session and said, “Just go.” He went—grudgingly. Unsure of what he’d even say. But in that room, something surfaced that he hadn’t admitted out loud:
“I feel like I’m losing connection with my son.”
His son was getting older—more distant—and Marcus didn’t know how to reach him anymore.
The fear of becoming emotionally invisible had been gnawing at him for months.
It wasn’t that Marcus had failed. It was that he’d never been taught how to listen to his body or lead with vulnerability.
Therapy didn’t change who he was—it gave him access to more of himself.
If you’ve noticed your fuse is short, your body aches more than usual, or you’ve stopped feeling like yourself, you’re not alone.
These aren’t random symptoms—they’re signals.
What would it feel like to listen to them instead of pushing through?
A Crisis That’s Been Quiet for Too Long
Despite being less likely to seek support, men account for nearly 80% of suicides in the U.S.
CDC, 2022. This isn’t because men don’t care about their mental health. It’s because too many have never been shown how to ask for help.
They believe suffering in silence is noble. That staying quiet is strong, but silence doesn’t protect them. It isolates them. And that’s where the real danger begins.
Carlos, the Dad Who Couldn’t Feel Anything
Carlos, 38, came to therapy not because he was overwhelmed—but because he felt nothing at all. Not anger. Not joy. Not even grief after his divorce. He told me, “My feelings don’t matter. I have people relying on me and it makes no sense spending time on my feelings.”
He’d been on autopilot for so long that emotional flatness had become his default.
He wasn’t broken—he was emotionally shut down. And he didn’t know how to switch back on.
Over time, therapy gave him room to understand that feelings are simply another form of information. He liked that idea and ran with it! He started reconnecting—not just with his kids, but with his inner world.
He realized that numbness wasn’t strength. It was a survival strategy… and it had run its course.
Therapy Isn’t a Last Resort. It’s a Turning Point.
Therapy isn’t just for crisis.
It’s for men who want to be more than numb, more than angry or shut down.
It’s for men who are ready to feel like themselves again—even if they’re not sure what that means yet. You don’t need a diagnosis.
You just need a moment of honesty—and the willingness to take the next step.
You Don’t Have to Wait Another 11 Years
At Cadenza Center, we offer therapy grounded in respect, trust, and clarity.
We work with men who are ready for something different—whether it’s more peace, more presence, or simply more of themselves.
You don’t have to keep wondering.
Whether you’re running on fumes, feeling distant from the people you love, or simply tired of holding it all inside—this is your sign to begin.
We’re here when you’re ready. And you don’t have to do it alone.
For Partners, Friends, or Family Members Reading This
Sometimes the man in your life won’t take the first step.
But your voice matters.
Share this post. Ask the question gently.
Let him know support is here—when he’s ready to receive it.
References
American Psychological Association. (2023). Stress in America 2023: The state of our nation. https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/stress/2023/mental-health-social-media
National Alliance on Mental Illness. (2023). Mental health by the numbers. https://www.nami.org/mhstats
Harvard Health Publishing. (2020). Men’s mental health. https://www.health.harvard.edu/mind-and-mood/mens-mental-health
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2022). Suicide data and statistics. https://www.cdc.gov/suicide/facts/
