Why Awareness Alone Does Not Improve Men's Mental Health
- Brainz Magazine
- Jul 8
- 7 min read
Christen is a psychiatric nurse and solo mompreneur who specializes in grief, single parenting, and proactive mental health care. She is the founder of The Crisis Nurse mission, the creator of The (6-Step) C.R.I.S.I.S. Plan, the author of the book PIVOT (to be released in Summer 2025), and was recognized as a "Top Nurse of 2025" by Today's Nurse.
Millions of men suffer in silence. They are conditioned to believe that vulnerability is weakness. One mental health nurse shares her personal loss, professional insights, and a heartfelt plea for change.
As a mental health nurse, I’ve spent countless nights walking alongside people in their darkest hours. I’ve learned to listen beyond words, to watch for the subtle signs of despair: the held breath, the hollow smile, the weight behind a man’s silence. And what I’ve come to understand is this: some of the deepest pain hides behind strength.
It’s time we deepen the conversation about men’s mental health.
The statistics that should stop us in our tracks
According to the CDC, men make up nearly 80% of all suicides in the United States. The numbers are highest among those aged 25-44 and over 75. And yet, it still seems that very few people are actually talking about it or doing enough to educate the younger generations.
One in ten men experiences depression, but fewer than 25% ever seek professional help. In one survey, 40% of men said they had never told anyone how they really feet about anything. Not even once.
These aren’t just statistics. These are fathers, husbands, coworkers, and best friends. Some smile the widest. Some offer us comfort. And some, like my friend David, keep their battles buried so deeply that no one even knows they’re fighting.
Friendly and funny does not equal “happy”
In 2016, I met David while working in mental health nursing. He walked into our ER Crisis Unit wearing silly socks, cracked a joke in his first five minutes, and radiated a kindness that made the whole room soften. I instantly knew who he was before he introduced himself. Although we hadn't met in person, we had frequently spoken on the phone when I was giving him 'report' about patients being admitted. We had been 'phone friends' for over a year. As soon as he walked in to cross-train to my unit, I thought to myself,“He’s handsome, too!”
I quickly learned that he was also extremely hard-working, caring, compassionate, thoughtful, generous, empathetic, and so humble. He often stayed late to finish charting, making sure not to forget even one detail. He never complained about his hour-long commute. He walked his female coworkers to our cars after every shift, even if he had already clocked out, to be sure we were safe. Most importantly, it was immediately apparent that he loved his wife and dogs with all his heart, as he talked about them frequently. He loved going on adventures with them in nature. He was goofy, thoughtful, and could brighten any room with his huge smile and sparkly eyes (they smiled, too).
But he never told us that underneath the surface, he was struggling. (You can read a more detailed story about David in my upcoming book.)
In 2017, David went missing. His car was found near a wooded trail. A group of us from work joined the search party. The terrain was thick and unforgiving, and my heart didn’t want to believe what we were doing.
I had left the search party early, and not long after arriving home and showering, my phone rang. My friend was on the other end of the line and shared the news that shortly after I left, my search group had found him. It was confirmed that he had taken his own life. The people in my group who found him included his own brother and his best friend. Two people who loved him most. People who are forever changed.
When I got the call, my legs went numb, and I fell to the floor. Broken. I sobbed so hard that it was the silent, heaving kind, when you can barely breathe. My immediate thought was that God had saved me from being there because he knew I couldn’t mentally handle that type of trauma or picture etched into my brain. He knew that couldn’t be the way I’d forever remember David.
And then I started beating myself up with thoughts like:
“We never asked the right questions.”
“We weren’t there for him like he was there for us.”
“What clues did we miss? And how did we miss them?”
“We should have noticed his demeanor change.”
“He seemed completely find when I saw him 2 weeks ago and walked to our cars together.”
I also kept thinking, how could someone like him feel that hopeless?
Why men stay silent
Society teaches boys early on that emotion equals weakness. “Man up.” “Don’t cry.” “Be a leader.” “Push through.”
So they do.
They become men who believe they have to carry everything alone. Men who keep smiling while quietly falling apart. Men who numb themselves with work, TV, or alcohol. Men who never say out loud, “I need help.”
I see it every day in my work: husbands exhausted from being everything to everyone. Fathers who feel they’re failing because they can’t fix what’s broken. Sons who never learned how to speak fear aloud.
I also see the shame. The fear of being seen as weak. The belief that going to therapy equals being a failure. The idea that struggling somehow makes them “less of a man.”
But it doesn’t. Struggling makes them human.
How we can do better
So, what can we do? How do we start chipping away at this silent crisis that continues?
We need to begin by checking in on the ones who always seem okay. We can ask questions that go deeper than, “How’s it going?”
Instead, we could ask:
“What’s been weighing on you lately?”
“What do you wish someone understood?”
“When’s the last time you truly felt at peace?”
We need to hold space, not to fix, but to listen.
Let’s work even harder to normalize therapy, even for men. Talking about emotions in front of our sons should begin at a young age. It’s okay to share our own experiences as parents. Make softness safe again. Let them know that parents – especially dads – emote too.
Start saying things to your kids such as:
“Today is a hard day for me because…”
“Crying is a way to release sadness, anger, and frustration. It’s actually a way we cope and can help to regulate our emotions.”
“Moms and dads are only human, we make mistakes, we learn as we go, sometimes we need to take a healthy break to recover and give ourselves grace, too.”
We need to remind men that asking for help is an act of strength, not weakness.
Let’s celebrate emotional literacy, not just stoicism.
Most importantly, we truly have to create a culture where men know they can say, “I’m not okay”, and be met with compassion, not judgment.
Awareness is not enough. Just being aware that a problem exists is not going to fix the problem. We need to support, educate, focus on the root cause of the problems, and then actually offer solutions.
If you’re a man reading this
Please hear me:
You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.
You don’t have to carry it alone.
You are not broken.
You are not weak.
You are not a burden.
You are allowed to feel.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to speak up.
David didn’t get that chance. But maybe someone else will, because you’re still here.
Let your story continue. We need you.
What help looks like
Sometimes, help starts with a quiet moment of honesty. A text to a friend. A conversation over coffee. Perhaps you can start by browsing spaces made for men like HeadsUpGuys.org and ManTherapy.org, or find your local men’s support groups such as Mankind Project.
Men’s weekend or day retreats and conferences can also be spiritually and mentally healing, and you can build connections with others in your area. Just seeing how many other men are there to gain insight, support, and peace can be helpful.
For those who are Catholic, The Catholic Gentleman has this great podcast episode to listen to.
My website, The Crisis Nurse, offers more free resources, and you can also schedule a free consult to see what it would be like working with me as a coach or mentor. My program can help to actually walk you through a specific “crisis” or issue in a way that helps you put a “safety plan” in place so that you don’t have to feel alone in your feelings or as if your life is falling apart anymore.
Journaling is for men, too! I created a journal specifically for men who need to get their thoughts out but perhaps don’t want to do so verbally. You can order either a PDF version to download or a spiral bound copy that I’ll ship to you.
The journal can also be bought at a discounted price when you pre-order by book P.I.V.O.T., With My 6-Step C.R.I.S.I.S. Plan, which is being released in the Summer 2025.
You can even show your support for mental health and suicide awareness with original t-shirts such as this one.
Help doesn’t have to be loud. It just has to be reachable.
If you are ever in need of immediate assistance or help, please remember that the Crisis Support Help Line is available 24/7, just text or call 988.
If you experience suicidal thoughts, get to the nearest hospital or Crisis Unit or call 911
Read more from Christen Bryce, RN, PMH-BC, MS
Christen Bryce, RN, PMH-BC, MS, Psychiatric Registered Nurse, Advocate & Author
Christen is a board-certified psychiatric registered nurse, advocate, entrepreneur, and author. She works with a wide variety of clients struggling with mental health or relationship issues, but she specializes in marriage and family studies. Christen’s mission is to empower adult children of late-life (grey) divorce and their families to take charge of their well-being before crises escalate in their own relationships. She is devoted to redefining mental wellness through faith-based, preventative care. As the founder of The Crisis Nurse, she developed The 6-Step CRISIS Plan, to guide individuals in taking proactive steps toward emotional and psychological well-being. Through education, mentorship, and advocacy, Christen equips others with the tools to build resilience, embrace self-care, and cultivate a more fulfilling, sustainable life.
