Men and Therapy – Why it matters (and how to step in)

Kelly Rowe
Nov 12
6 min read

As we mark men’s mental health month this November, the phrase “Men and Therapy” carries more than two words — it invites a conversation many men haven’t felt fully welcome in before. It’s about offering a space where men can feel safe to explore emotions, share burdens, and reconnect with themselves. And it’s about recognising that seeking support isn’t a sign of weakness — it’s a step of courage.

Man looking sad, sat on couch with head in hand — Men are often less likely to seek support — yet opening up can be a powerful step toward healing.

The current landscape: what the stats tell us about men and therapy

Here are some key figures that help us understand the situation:

In the UK, men die by suicide at a rate that is three times higher than women’s. [1]
In a UK‑survey of men’s mental health, 77% of men reported having symptoms of common mental health problems (like anxiety, stress or depression) but 40% said they would never talk to anyone about their mental health.[2]
When men do engage in therapy, many report it as helpful — suggesting that the barrier is less about whether therapy works and more about whether men feel comfortable stepping into it.

The numbers talked about here are not about blaming — they’re a gentle reminder that there’s a gap between need and access, between distress and help, when it comes to men and therapy.

Why the gap exists: stigma, culture & emotional patterns

When a man wonders “why don’t I try therapy?”, there are several overlapping forces at play — many of which deserve compassion and understanding, not judgment.

Cultural expectations of masculinity

Many men grow up hearing messages like “be tough”, “handle it yourself”, “don’t show weakness”. Over time these become emotional habits — staying silent becomes easier than speaking up. That internal voice may whisper: “If I go to therapy, will I still be ‘strong’?” Understanding this helps us to see the barrier not as a failure, but as a conditioned response.

Fear of judgement or vulnerability

The thought of opening up in therapy can feel risky: “What if the therapist thinks less of me?” “What if I look weak?” These worries are real. They come from the very real possibility of being misunderstood, dismissed, or simply not heard. When therapy is framed as ‘only for people with a crisis’ or ‘for the weak’, many men will simply avoid the space altogether.

Lack of emotional literacy and emotional habit-training

For some men, the language of feelings (“I feel anxious”, “I’m hurt”, “I’m lonely”) may feel new, awkward or foreign. It may feel easier to talk about what you did, how you solved something — than how you felt. Therapy asks a different kind of question, and it may take time to feel safe answering it. When you merge that with the other pressures above, you can see why engaging in therapy can feel like a leap for some.

Access concerns

It also matters what therapy looks like and feels like. If it’s offered in a way that feels distant, abstract or exclusively “oh you have to talk about your childhood”, a man might think: “That’s not for me.” Framing therapy as simply “a space to talk, reflect, connect” can help widen the door. And of course — cost, time, finding the right therapist, all play their part.

My experience as a therapist working with men

In my practice I’ve had the privilege of working with a number of men, all of whom brought themselves freely to the experience. Once male client, whom I worked with for three years, told me: "This is the one space where I can talk about how I feel, and focus on it.”

That sentence holds so much. It’s not about being broken — it’s about recognition, permission, and connection.

Some reflections from that experience:

Inviting exploration rather than fixing: We agreed early that therapy wouldn’t be about “fixing him”, but “making space for what’s happening for you”. That subtle shift matters: it tells the man that he already has a life worth exploring.
Trust grows slowly: Initially he described scenarios, actions, the “stuff happening”. Only over time did he begin to talk about how things felt. That’s okay. It’s normal. Therapy doesn’t expect you to arrive fully formed with emotional vocabulary.
Linking feeling to living: For many men, therapy becomes helpful when it shows up in their everyday life - like slowing down and noticing what was happening allows them to spot the places that need work (e.g. excessive anger, repressed feelings).
Therapy is not a magic wand: I emphasise this every time: therapy won’t simply make all the pain vanish overnight. Some sessions are hard, some weeks you’ll feel stuck. That’s part of the process — and that doesn’t mean it’s not working.
The payoff is real: In his case, the client gradually reported that he felt less alone with his internal world, more able to name what was happening inside, and more confident in setting boundaries and connecting with others. For him, that shift was freeing.
No judgement if it’s not for you: Finally, it’s vital to honour that therapy isn’t right for everyone — and that’s okay. The aim is to make the choice conscious, not automatic or forced.

Practical steps: moving forward with Men and Therapy

If you’re a man reading this (or you know a man), and “Men and Therapy” is a phrase that stirs something inside you — here are some gentle ideas to consider:

Change the narrative: The story isn’t “I’m weak because I need help”. The story could be: “I’m wise enough to notice I’m carrying a heavy load and I’m open to seeing if someone can help me unburden it.”
Start small: You don’t have to commit long-term right away. Consider: What’s one thing you’d like to talk about? If that’s not clear yet, that’s also okay. The first session can simply be: “Let’s meet and see if this space feels safe for me.”
Look for the right fit: A therapist doesn’t need to have all the answers — they need to be someone you feel you can talk with. If the first person doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t mean therapy is wrong — it means the match isn’t yet right.
Connect to something that matters to you: Maybe you want to feel less reactive with your partner, or calmer at work, or more connected to your children. Having a “why” can help the “what” of therapy feel relevant.
Be realistic and kind with yourself: Therapy will have ups and downs. There may be weeks when you feel like you’re not getting anywhere; that’s okay. The process often includes plateau moments. Persistence matters more than perfection.
Share what you’re comfortable with: You don’t have to broadcast your journey to everyone. One trusted friend, partner or colleague knowing that you’re “doing some work with someone” can help reduce isolation and stigma.
Know that it’s okay if it’s not for you: After a few sessions you may realise that this mode of therapy isn’t the right approach for you (and there are other ways to work with your emotional life). That’s a valid outcome too — what matters is you’ve made an informed choice rather than one driven by shame or 'stuckness'.

Final thoughts: rewriting the narrative

When it comes to “Men and Therapy”, the conversation is shifting — slowly, but steadily. The fact is, the statistics show a gap: men are hurting, they are dying at higher rates, yet many are not stepping towards help. But the flip side is hopeful: when men do try therapy, many find it helpful, freeing even.

If you’re reading this, and the idea of therapy has been hovering in the background, know this: you’re not alone. The door is there. No finger-pointing, no shame — just an invitation.

Choosing to talk is a kind act — to yourself, to those around you, and to the generations of men coming up behind you. If you decide therapy is for you, that’s a step. If you decide it’s not, that’s also your choice. The key is awareness, compassion, and possibility.

May this men’s mental health month be more than a phrase. May it be a moment of connection, of acknowledgement, of change. And if you take one step towards understanding yourself better — that’s meaningful. Here’s to the journey.