Men in Therapy. I fully understand how difficult it can be to start therapy. Although I have always prided myself on being tough and resilient, I have often tried to manage life independently.

Today, after completing an assessment with a male client, I reflected on how wonderful it would be to encourage more men to seek therapy with our team. It reminded me of a dear friend who struggled with his mental health. He was a northern, working-class man—proud, bright, and creative. He was a fine art sculptor and a deep thinker, often feeling the world’s injustices, especially towards those with less.

My friend battled anxiety and depression, and like many men, he carried his pride. He was a modern man who loved the arts and was an excellent cook. After living in London for 30 years, he kept his northern accent, though to Mancunians, it was more Lancashire (Leigh/Atherton). He had a deep passion for football and sports of all kinds. A lifelong Liverpool fan, he also held a season ticket for West Ham, living just a stone's throw from the stadium in East London. For him, football was his release—his therapy was shouting and cheering at "The Beautiful Game."

After years of conversations and support, he finally took the step to seek therapy. He later told me how transformative it was to have someone truly listen—someone who wanted to understand his story. Over two years of treatment, he opened up about parts of his life that even his family and partner didn’t know. Someone bore witness to his experiences, allowing him to process them privately.

As he grew through therapy, he shared more about his family, childhood, and working-class roots in a small town on the edge of Manchester. We, his friends, got to know him even more deeply. We understood his love, his life, and, of course, his struggles with anxiety, more specifically, his childhood trauma caused by alcoholism within his family.   He shared how overwhelmed he sometimes felt and how his confidence had diminished. We supported him when he cancelled plans or didn’t show up for a drink or dinner. He was a wonderful friend—gentle and incredibly bright. Despite not having much, he would lend money to friends, even those he barely knew. He could look at you and read you more profoundly than you might share—he was emotionally intuitive and needed an outlet to express his inner thoughts and troubles.

We miss him deeply, but we cherish the time we spent getting to know the real him.

I don’t know if this story will inspire more men to seek therapy, but it helped my dearest friend heal in ways I couldn’t have imagined.  He said, "It is nice to be listened to".