A Woman…on Men’s Depression

There are a lot of reasons I have not written about men’s mental health, depression in particular.

I am not a man and I know how many men could get pissed off about a woman’s perspective on one of their issues.
I never thought about it until a reader of mine mentioned, “men struggle with this too. Middle-aged women aren’t special” Of course they aren’t!
Men’s mental health has been a tricky topic for me.

One main reason it has been tricky for me is that there are a lot of mental illnesses that come disguised as depression. And depression, co-morbid with other issues, creates messes that “normal” people, like myself, have a hard time deciphering.

The alcoholism in both sides of my family might have been depression, for all I know.

My grandfather likely had depression. All I knew was that he was super good to me but verbally abused my grandmother and had a hard time keeping a job.

My uncle legit had clinical depression, but we also found out later that he had a brain tumor, which had made him abusive as well.

Then, this is even more complicated:

I was married to a man for almost 28 years. For 25 of those years, he seemed as if he was depressed. He spent an inordinate amount of time alone, sitting, watching movies and reading. He sometimes didn’t feed himself, not even coming to dinner when he was home…and he was rarely home. He complained a lot, moped a lot. He seemed like he was overwhelmed All. Of. The. Time. He didn’t have friends. His co-workers didn’t see the added value of his personage. He didn’t know what he wanted to do when he grew up. Never kept a job for more than three years at a time (until of late). That was for the whole 25 years.

He would dabble in cheesemaking, violin-repair, guitar, cello, screenwriting, illustration, fiction writing, flower farming, chicken raising and butchering…OMG, you name it, he bought the stuff for it and tried it.

And who was there when those projects failed? Me…and his kids. There were always reasons they failed, of course. Usually the story went like this:

WE demanded too much time from him. He didn’t realize how much work it would be and didn’t have enough hours in the day. Sometimes, the “stuff” never got out of the packaging.

As I was packing our home to move last week, I ran across several things that I never saw him use, but he had spent our very limited money on. I saw things that my parents bought for him to allow him to “try this thing….maybe this is the right thing for me”.

He was a time-waster and a soul-sucker. He was not depressed. So, my ideas about men’s depression are a little jaded. I was married to a selfish, narcissistic man, not a good, yet depressed, man. Yet, for many years, they looked the same to me.

Men’s depression makes us (partners and wives) feel helpless. It is terrifying. As a partner, we wonder what we can possibly do to help alleviate some of the stressors, assist in a change of perspective, love differently, and be more supportive.

Men assume, often, that they are the “problem solvers” in their families’ lives. Not true. We, women, are constantly making connections or seeking to make those connections. Through those connections, we will attempt to solve all of the problems, the riddles, and the puzzles of our families’ lives. Yes, men solve problems. But don’t leave us out, k?

If we are more on the feminine side of female-ness, there is something very destabilizing about men’s depression. Our man is to be our rock, our solid foundation to wash over with our emotional tides, our tears, and our joys. What happens when we don’t have such a rock? What happens when he goes into his non-feeling space and checks out, leaving us to wonder where he went and when and if he will emerge again?

The good times were and are so good. The questions continue. Will we have those again? Will he ever want to have sex with me as much as we used to? Will he ever notice me again like he used to? Will he plan dates for us and enjoy my company again?

The man we loved so deeply is gone…for now. Desperation sets in. And we all know what happens next. The woman often begins to “nag”. But, in her mind, she is more like, suggesting things…perhaps bordering on begging. She has ideas as to what he could do, things he could try, or help they could get. Listen as he might, nothing changes. Because…it wasn’t his idea.

Now, I am not going to say that he intentionally blows her off. He may not. But, likely, he doesn’t do anything about what she says, thus making her feel more and more unwanted and unneeded and fearful. Because she cannot “make” him do anything. Her hands are forced off the proverbial wheel.

This reminds me of a scene from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”. The scene happens at the family’s Greek restaurant, Dancing Zorba’s. The mother and aunt are needing the uncle to allow the niece to work at the family’s travel agency. But, they both know that he will never allow it unless he thinks of it himself. So, they convene to talk and find a way to frame the conversation so he thinks he came up with this most brilliant of ideas.

It is such a hysterical moment in the movie because it is so true. We, women, have all lived that moment in our lives if our men are integrated at all in our families.

Addressing depression (with a woman’s perspective) is no different. Trying to get a man to add a deck and hot tub onto the house is no different. Trying to get a man to remember to take the trash out or put his clothes away is no different.

Disclaimer: This is NOT every man. This is NOT every woman. These are generalities, gleaned from my 47 years of living with men and women alike.

If we, women, think of it, you won’t do it. So, how do we “get” you to think of your mental health. How do we convince you to address it without using our words? How can we love you differently so you understand how much you are valued, how much we want your happiness, how much we miss you? What can we offer you that we have not offered before?

Do you not realize that your mental health affects us, too? It affects your children. Damn, it likely affects the dog.

What do we mean to you?

Subconsciously, I think we, as wives and partners, see your non-responsiveness to your mental health as an insult. Like, “apparently, you don’t care about us, or your family…or you would get help”, you know?

I am not saying that we think those words, but:

We are FEARFUL that we don’t mean enough to you to do it.
We are FEARFUL that you will drag us through your suffering with you, never making the changes needed.
We are FEARFUL that the rest of our lives are going to be Just. Like. This.

And the “way out” is just too sad to recognize. We really do love you.

No, you don’t have to tell us anything. You don’t have to show us emotion. You don’t have to get vulnerable and teary-eyed, tell us your darkest secrets and fears. In fact, that might not be the best idea.

What you need is a good friend, or a group of good man friends, who will support your decision to take care of yourself. What you need is a good therapist who can help you reframe things and offer a new perspective.

If you need to cry, cry. Please don’t hold back tears and refrain from being emotional if you feel it.

Yes, our lives will change. Our relationship will change. Once the barriers of mental health are broken down, we will only become closer. Our ability to be intimate with you will increase. Our trust in you will increase as well. Who knows, maybe the sex will even get better.

But you have to care enough about yourself and about us to get there. Caring for yourself is not optional, it is imperative.

We all want the good life. But it doesn’t just appear on the porch with the Amazon delivery guy, sadly. The good life requires honesty; pure unadulterated honesty.

Getting honest with yourself about your feelings of shame, betrayal, abandonment, failures, and lost opportunities is what I am talking about. Those things get in the way of our being able to be close to you.

Your pain doesn’t just hurt you. It hurts us all.

If you have a partner and she doesn’t have the ability or patience to stick it out with you while you heal, I am very sorry. My heart hurts just thinking about that. I may have experienced that as well.

But, the journey awaits, and the fork in the path is getting closer. Which way will you choose to go?

PS: Almost every word of this goes for women as well. We, women, need to get honest as well. Truth hurts, as Lizzo says. That woman is always right…lol!

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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