About four months ago, I faced a significant breakdown at my workplace. I’m involved in a Division I athletics program, where I manage summer bridge initiatives for incoming student athletes. These programs are designed to ease the transition from high school to college, but they demand intense commitment around the clock. Once the last program wrapped up, I immediately had to pivot my focus to the upcoming fall term. Somewhere in that hectic transition, I hit a wall.
I walked into my supervisor’s office and admitted I could no longer handle the pressure. I had always been the person who would say “yes” to every request, believing that hard work was the answer to any challenge. While this mindset had served me well in the past, I suddenly realized that I had crossed an emotional threshold I wasn’t aware existed.
My supervisor, a compassionate individual, encouraged me to go home—not in a punitive way, but out of genuine concern for my well-being. When my partner, Sarah, returned home and found me curled up in bed, I felt a wave of emotions wash over me that I had never experienced before. I’m the primary breadwinner for our family; Sarah works part-time at our kids’ school while I juggle a full-time job at the university and freelance writing. I don’t claim that my life is more stressful than hers; I deeply admire the hard work she puts in every day, and I do everything I can to support her.
However, when Sarah entered the room, I almost broke down. I mention this because I’m not typically one to show vulnerability. Even during my father’s passing, tears didn’t come. Yet, in that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of failure. I was anxious and depressed, acutely aware of the responsibilities weighing on my shoulders. I felt the societal pressure of being a provider, something ingrained in me since childhood, and I found myself trapped between the need to push through and the realization that I didn’t know how to gather the strength to do so.
The stress of balancing a demanding job with fatherhood had finally caught up with me, and the thought of returning to work felt like stepping into a fire. Conversely, the idea of disappointing my loved ones—my wife and three kids—felt like an unbearable weight, leading me to dark thoughts of hopelessness.
When Sarah asked what was wrong, I hesitated. “Have you lost your job?” she queried. “No,” I replied, “it’s more complicated than that.” I then asked her to hold me, and we stayed that way for a while, letting the silence speak. Eventually, I opened up about my work stresses and the impossible expectations I felt, and in doing so, I felt weak and vulnerable. Why couldn’t I manage it all? I was supposed to be strong—a man, a father—but at that moment, I was questioning my abilities.
We talked through contingency plans in case I did lose my job. I made an appointment with a therapist, and that led to ongoing sessions and necessary lifestyle changes.
What I didn’t realize until recently is that 30.6% of men experience depression at some point in their lives, and the suicide rate among American men is nearly four times higher than that of women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. While women may attempt suicide more frequently, men are more likely to succeed.
As a man, the toughest aspect of battling depression and anxiety is the struggle to admit it. Recognizing the symptoms of stress and how they can intensify due to the pressures of work and family is incredibly challenging. The reality is, despite my love for my family, fatherhood and marriage can sometimes feel like the most daunting tasks of my life. It’s not that I can’t do it; it’s that there will be moments when the challenges feel insurmountable. Without proper support, those moments can lead a devoted father to the brink.
Much of this struggle stems from the stigma surrounding mental health. Coupled with societal expectations to “man up,” it further isolates those who are already suffering. While normalizing mental health conversations is crucial, we must also create an environment where fathers feel safe to share their experiences and vulnerabilities. We are not yet there. If we were, I would have felt more at ease reaching out to Sarah, my supervisor, or anyone else capable of offering help long before I reached my breaking point.
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In summary, it’s essential to address the realities of mental health challenges faced by fathers. We need to dismantle the stigma and create a culture that encourages open dialogue about anxiety and depression. Only then can we foster an environment where fathers feel supported and empowered to seek help.