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The Men Who Look Fine Often Aren’t
Content note: This article discusses suicide and men’s mental health. Please take care when reading.
A confronting truth behind Men’s Mental Health Month
By the time you finish reading this article, several men somewhere in the world will have died by suicide.
It is a confronting statement, but perhaps it needs to be. Global estimates suggest that more than 720,000 people die by suicide every year, and a significant majority are men. On that basis, close to one man dies by suicide every minute. Almost 60 every hour. More than 1,000 every day. Tens of thousands every month.
Those numbers are almost too large to comprehend, which is part of the problem. Statistics can become abstract. They can sit at a distance from us, safely contained in reports, presentations and awareness campaigns. But each number represents a life. A father, son, brother, husband, partner, colleague, friend, business owner or leader. In many cases, someone who may have looked perfectly fine to those around them.
June is Men’s Mental Health Month. I have always had some discomfort with the idea of singling out one group’s mental health, because mental health is not a competition. Women suffer. Young people suffer. Families suffer. Entire workplaces can be affected when someone is struggling. Pain does not belong to one gender.
But there are moments when a particular issue needs a sharper focus. If this month gives us permission to speak more directly about men who are struggling silently, then we should take that opportunity seriously.
This is not men versus women
This conversation should never become men versus women. That would miss the point entirely. Men’s Mental Health Month is not about excluding anyone else’s pain or implying that one form of suffering matters more than another. It is about recognising a pattern that is real, persistent and, in too many cases, fatal.
Men are less likely to seek help early. Many have been conditioned to see vulnerability as weakness. Many have learned to measure their worth by their ability to provide, perform, endure and keep going. In leadership, those pressures are often amplified. The higher someone rises, the more they may feel they have to conceal.
That is why awareness matters, but awareness alone is not enough. We need to move the conversation from recognition to prevention. From sympathy to action. From “that’s terrible” to “who around me might be struggling, and what am I doing to make it easier for them to speak?”
Bringing the issue into the boardroom
At The CEO Institute, we work closely with CEOs and business owners across Australia and New Zealand. Men and women. These are people who carry a particular kind of pressure. They are responsible for payroll, performance, customers, staff, growth, shareholders, families and futures. They are expected to be calm when others are uncertain, decisive when conditions are unclear, and resilient when the business is under strain.
That responsibility can be deeply rewarding. It can also be lonely.
In our latest Pulse survey, mental health and wellbeing emerged as one of the top five issues raised by our CEO and business owner members. 78% told us they feel significantly worse off in terms of their mental health and wellbeing than they did two years ago.
That figure should stop us. It tells us that behind the professional confidence many leaders project, there is fatigue. Behind the strategy, there may be anxiety. Behind the composure, there may be people wondering how much longer they can continue at the same pace.
The reality is that many CEOs and business owners do not feel they have permission to struggle. They may be surrounded by people all day, yet have very few people they can speak to honestly. Their teams look to them for reassurance. Their families may rely on them financially and emotionally. Their boards or stakeholders may expect progress, answers and certainty. So, the instinct becomes to absorb the pressure privately.
That instinct can be dangerous.
Why this is personal
I understand this more personally than I wish I did. Many years ago, I went through a period where my own mental health severely declined. From the outside, many people would not have known how bad things had become. I was still functioning. I was still showing up. I was still doing the things people expected me to do.
But privately, I was in a very dark place. I had the darkest thoughts of my life.
I do not share that for effect. I share it because I know how easy it is to misread someone’s external performance as evidence that they are okay. During that time, I learned things I have never forgotten. Some of the people you expect to stand beside you may not. Some of the people you never expected may become lifelines. And sometimes the person who appears strong, composed, successful or even happy is the person who is closest to breaking.
That experience changed the way I look at people. I try not to assume that someone is well because they are productive. I try not to assume that a smile means peace. I try not to assume that silence means strength.
The danger of high-functioning distress
High-performing people can be very good at concealment. In fact, many have been rewarded for it. Leaders are praised for being calm under pressure, for pushing through, for holding the line, for not letting emotion cloud judgement. Those qualities can be useful in business, but they can also become a mask.
A CEO may be praised for resilience while privately feeling exhausted. A founder may be celebrated for persistence while quietly feeling trapped. A business owner may look successful from the outside while carrying financial pressure, family stress, loneliness or shame that no one else can see.
This is one of the most dangerous aspects of mental health. The people most at risk do not always look like they are in crisis. They may still be answering emails, leading meetings, closing deals, attending events and making others laugh. They may be the person everyone else leans on.
And because they appear capable, people stop checking.
That is why we need to become more attentive to the subtle signs. Not to diagnose each other, and not to overstep, but to care enough to notice. A change in behaviour. Withdrawal. Irritability. Exhaustion. An unusual loss of confidence. Increased drinking. A sense of hopelessness. The person who suddenly becomes hard to reach. The person who keeps saying they are busy, but never seems to be okay.
What leaders can do
No CEO, chair, colleague or friend is expected to become a therapist. That is not the role. But leaders do have a responsibility to create environments where people can speak early, honestly and without shame.
That starts with the tone we set. If every conversation about performance ignores wellbeing, we send a message. If every admission of stress is treated as weakness, we send a message. If leaders pretend they are invulnerable, we send a message.
The opposite is also true. When leaders speak with honesty and humanity, others are more likely to do the same. When a workplace treats mental health as part of sustainable performance, rather than a private failure, people are more likely to seek support before they reach crisis point. When senior leaders check in properly with each other, not just with their teams, they create a culture where strength is not confused with silence.
For CEOs and business owners, this may mean looking closely at the culture around them. Do people feel safe to say they are struggling? Do senior leaders have trusted peers they can talk to? Are we rewarding unsustainable behaviour because it produces short-term results? Are we noticing the people who carry the most responsibility, or simply assuming they can handle it?
These are not soft questions. They are leadership questions.
Ask twice
Men’s Mental Health Month should not be reduced to a campaign, a morning tea or a social media post. It should be a prompt to look more carefully at the people around us, especially the ones who seem the strongest.
Ask someone how they are. Then make enough space for the real answer. If they say they are fine, do not interrogate them, but do not always accept the automatic response either. Ask again, gently. Ask in a way that tells them you actually want to know.
Because “I’m fine” can mean many things. Sometimes it means exactly that. Sometimes it means, “I don’t know how to say what is really happening.” Sometimes it means, “I don’t want to be a burden.” Sometimes it means, “I am waiting to see whether you really care enough to ask again.”
The businesses we lead are made up of human beings. Their wellbeing is not separate from strategy, productivity, culture or long-term success. It sits underneath all of it.
This month, I am asking every CEO, business owner and leader to do one thing: check on the person who always says they are fine. And when they say they are fine, ask again.
Support is available
This article discusses suicide and men’s mental health, which may be distressing for some readers. If this has raised concerns for you, or if you are worried about someone you know, please reach out for support.
In Australia, contact Lifeline on 13 11 14, text 0477 13 11 14, or visit lifeline.org.au. You can also contact Beyond Blue on 1300 22 4636. If life is in danger, call 000.
In New Zealand, contact Lifeline Aotearoa on 0800 543 354, text 4357, or call the Suicide Crisis Helpline on 0508 828 865. You can also call or text 1737 any time to speak with a trained counsellor. If life is in danger, call 111.