The Mental Health Wake-Up Call I Didn’t See Coming

I used to think burnout was something that happened to other people—people in high-stress jobs, people with chaotic lives. Not me. I was the guy who kept everything “together.” I worked hard, I provided for my family, I stayed in my lane. Sure, I got tired. Who doesn’t? That’s just life, right?

Until one day, it wasn’t.

It crept in slowly. First, it was just feeling drained all the time. Then I started snapping over little things—traffic, dishes, emails. I stopped doing stuff I enjoyed. I wasn’t sleeping well. I was either wired and anxious or so tired I felt like I was walking through fog. But I kept telling myself I was just run down, that I needed a good night’s sleep or a vacation.

But no amount of sleep or time off was cutting it. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I was running on fumes—mentally, emotionally, physically. And it all finally caught up to me when I found myself sitting in the car one evening after work, not wanting to go inside. Not because anything was wrong in there, but because I just felt… empty. I had nothing left to give.

That was the moment I knew I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The hardest part? Admitting I needed help. I’m not great at talking about feelings, and I definitely wasn’t raised to see therapy as “normal.” But I made the call. I started seeing a therapist once a week. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say at first—I just knew I needed to say something. And slowly, things started to shift.

Therapy gave me the space to unpack stuff I’d been carrying for years—expectations, pressure, fear of not being “enough.” I realized I had been holding myself to impossible standards and pushing through everything like it didn’t matter. But it did matter. I mattered.

I also started making small changes in my daily life. I built boundaries around work. I took real breaks. I started journaling—nothing fancy, just dumping thoughts onto a page. I spent more time outside. I cut back on alcohol. I talked more honestly with my partner and close friends.

None of this was a quick fix. It took time, and there are still tough days. But I’m not in that fog anymore. I feel more grounded. More present. More me.

If you’re a guy who thinks mental health isn’t “your thing,” I hear you. I was you. But let me tell you something I wish I’d understood sooner: struggling doesn’t make you weak. Ignoring it does. Being strong isn’t about toughing it out alone—it’s about knowing when to ask for support.

We take our cars in for maintenance. We upgrade our phones. But when it comes to our minds, we wait until we’re completely broken down to do anything about it. That’s backward. Your mental health is part of your overall health—and it deserves just as much attention.

So if you’ve been feeling off, tired, or like you’re constantly running on empty, don’t brush it aside. Start the conversation. Open the door. You might be surprised what comes through.

You don’t have to hit rock bottom to start feeling better. You just have to decide that you’re worth the effort.