The
woods are burning. The
roof is falling in. The
guy can't sleep, can't
think and now he's
having panic attacks.
Maybe
it's time to consider
therapy.
Then
again, maybe not. The
men of Metallica, it
seems, broke new ground.
"The average man is
as likely to ask for
help with a
psychological problem as
he is to ask for
directions," says
Terrence Real, executive
director of the
Relational Recovery
Institute in Watertown,
Massachusetts, and
author of How Can I
Get Through to You?
Reconnecting Men and
Women. The
reluctance is always the
same: Therapy is not
"manly."
"We
teach men to be almost
the opposite of what's
required for
therapy," says Gary
Brooks, professor of
psychology at Baylor
University in Texas and
author of A New
Psychotherapy for
Traditional Men.
"By the time
they're in elementary
school, boys have gotten
the message that showing
sadness or fear is a
sign of weakness,"
says Ronald F. Levant,
dean of the Center for
Psychological Studies at
Nova Southeastern
University in Fort
Lauderdale, Florida.
Decades
after the much trumpeted
rise of the
"sensitive"
guy, most men continue
to keep their feelings
hidden—even from
themselves. For many
men, negative emotions
arouse such shame and
discomfort that they
cease to experience them
altogether. "The
four words men most
dread hearing from women
are 'We have to talk,'
as that invariably means
talking about
emotions," says
Levant.
Yet
somehow men do find
themselves in therapy in
increasing numbers.
Twenty-two percent of
men sought mental health
treatment from 2002 to
2004, according to Therapy
in America, a poll
sponsored by Psychology
Today and PacifiCare
Behavioral Health, Inc.
The survey found that
men constitute 37
percent of the total
number of patients in
treatment. "More
people are going into
treatment overall, but
the proportion of men to
women has not
changed," says
Jerome Vaccaro,
president and CEO of
PacifiCare.
Granted,
both men and women often
opt for medication over
talk therapy, but seek
therapy men do. What
makes them ink the
appointment? More often
than not, the impetus is
a woman. A typical male
patient has been
sent—usually by his
wife, girlfriend or
children, sometimes by
his employer. Behind the
command performance is a
threat: "You
change, or it's all
over."
"I
call them 'wife-mandated
referrals,'" says
Real.
Although
depression, anxiety and
shame may lurk beneath
the surface, what's on
the table is usually
relationship problems.
To defend against
unwelcome feelings, many
men adopt an attitude of
superiority, entitlement
and contempt for others.
"They're not in
pain," says Real.
"The people around
them are in pain."
The
men who enter therapy of
their own volition have
often hit rock bottom,
says Levant. The despair
they've denied or
stifled with alcohol or
overwork has spiraled
until they can't fake it
anymore. Often, it's the
collapse of a
marriage—unexpected,
because months or years
of warning signs have
been ignored.
"These men are in a
daze," Levant says.
"They don't know
what hit them."
Then
there's the matter of
stigma. More than one in
five men in the Therapy
in America survey
said they didn't trust
therapists and wouldn't
want to be associated
with the type of person
who receives therapy.
Only one in 10 women
held these views. But
such stigma appears to
be in decline, thanks in
part to Dr. Phil and
Tony Soprano, who have
eclipsed the uptight,
cerebral Frasier and
Woody Allen as exemplars
of male therapist and
client, respectively.
More
good news: Once men get
down to business,
opening up often brings
a rapid sense of relief.
"They've admitted
something they were
ashamed of, gotten it
off their chest, and the
world hasn't
collapsed," says
Levant. Indeed, the
survey found that men
and women were equally
satisfied with their
treatment experience.
For
men, the biggest hurdle,
whether you're a
world-class rocker or a
certified public
accountant, is getting
in the door.
article
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