Why Some Men Find It Difficult to Talk About Their Feelings: Reflections from a Person-Centred Counsellor
This reflective article explores my own assumptions about men's mental health and vulnerability, and how working alongside men has reinforced my belief that healing begins in relationships where there are no conditions attached.
Carey Guite
6/16/20265 min read
Why Some Men Find It Difficult to Talk About Their Feelings
Over the last few years there has been an increasing conversation around men's mental health, and rightly so. Government statistics continue to show that men are significantly more likely to die by suicide than women, while many who begin NHS talking therapies do not complete the sessions they are offered. These figures are often followed by discussions about men being reluctant to ask for help or being unwilling to talk about their feelings. Whilst there may be truth in some of these observations, I find myself wondering whether we are sometimes asking the wrong question.
Rather than asking why men struggle to engage with therapy, perhaps we need to ask what experiences have shaped their relationship with vulnerability and whether therapy is always offering a space that feels safe enough for those experiences to be explored. This has become an important area of reflection for me as a person-centred counsellor.
Like every therapist, I bring my own experiences, assumptions and understanding of the world into the therapy room. Part of working ethically is remaining aware of these and continuing to reflect on them so that each client can be met as an individual rather than through my own expectations. Working alongside men has challenged me in ways that I had not anticipated and has deepened my appreciation of the importance of curiosity, acceptance and genuine therapeutic presence.
Reading Harkness' article The Truth About Men and Therapy (2024) particularly resonated with me. He suggests that many therapists are aware of the statistics surrounding men's mental health but may hold misconceptions about why men disengage from therapy. Zac Seidler from Movember argues that we often expect men to arrive in therapy ready to be open, transparent and emotionally vulnerable, despite many having grown up in environments where these qualities were neither encouraged nor modelled. If vulnerability has never felt safe, it makes sense that sitting in a counselling room and immediately talking about feelings may feel unfamiliar or even threatening.
JJ Bola (2019) describes the mask that many men learn to wear throughout their lives. Society often communicates that being a man means being strong, remaining in control and coping without complaint. Whilst these messages are changing, they continue to influence many people's experiences of themselves. Emotional expression may become something to hide rather than something to understand.
There is no single answer to why some men find it difficult to talk about their feelings but what has struck me most in my own practice is not that men are unwilling to talk about emotions, but that many have had very little experience of having those emotions received with acceptance. Several men I have worked with have described growing up believing that crying was weakness or that difficult feelings should simply be pushed aside. I have also become increasingly aware of how many men's ideas about masculinity are shaped by early experiences, family relationships and wider societal expectations. I have often noticed that when conversations begin to move towards more vulnerable emotions, there can be a tendency to minimise, dismiss or move away from them. Sometimes this is expressed in phrases such as, "That's just how it is,"
I have found myself returning to that phrase many times. Rather than hearing it as resistance, I have become curious about what sits underneath it. What experiences taught him that going further might not be safe? What happened that led him to believe some feelings should remain hidden? What would it be like for someone who had spent years protecting themselves in this way to experience a relationship where there was no expectation to perform strength or certainty?
These reflections have reinforced my belief in the person-centred approach. Carl Rogers proposed that people naturally move towards growth when they experience empathy, congruence and unconditional positive regard. Mearns and Cooper (2018), further developed this understanding through the concept of relational depth, recognising the profound change that can occur when two people genuinely meet one another in a relationship characterised by authenticity and acceptance.
In many ways, this feels particularly relevant when working with men. If someone has spent years believing that acceptance depends upon appearing capable, stoic or emotionally controlled, then counselling offers an opportunity to experience something different. There is no expectation to arrive with the right words, no requirement to cry, no pressure to disclose painful memories before trust has developed. Instead, there is simply another person willing to remain alongside them, accepting whatever emerges and whatever does not.
Working with men has also encouraged me to reflect on some of my own unconscious assumptions. Like everyone, my understanding of relationships has been shaped by my own life experiences, and I have recognised the importance of continuing to explore these so that they do not become unconscious biases within the therapeutic relationship. Rather than assuming I know what masculinity means, I have learned to allow each client the freedom to define it for themselves.
This has been one of the most valuable lessons in my practice. It has reminded me that person-centred counselling is not about encouraging someone to become more vulnerable or more emotional because we believe they should. It is about trusting that every individual possesses an innate tendency towards growth when they experience a relationship in which they feel genuinely accepted. My role is not to persuade someone to remove the mask they have worn for years but to create a space where they may eventually discover that they no longer need it.
The conversation around masculinity has also become increasingly complex. Harkness (2024) and Seidler highlight concerns that phrases such as "toxic masculinity" can leave some men feeling criticised or stigmatised rather than understood. This does not diminish the importance of challenging harmful behaviours, but it does invite us to consider how we can also model and celebrate healthy masculinity. JJ Bola (2019) writes about the importance of men witnessing other men expressing vulnerability and finding strength through connection rather than isolation.
This is perhaps why men's groups and organisations such as Movember and Men's Sheds can be so valuable. They offer opportunities for men to experience community, belonging and acceptance whilst recognising that they are not alone in their struggles. Healing rarely happens in isolation, and many people discover that simply being alongside others who understand can begin to reduce shame and self-criticism.
As I continue to work with men, I find myself becoming less interested in why someone finds it difficult to talk and more interested in understanding the experiences that made silence feel necessary in the first place. From a person-centred perspective, behaviours are rarely random; they develop for reasons that once made sense. The man who appears emotionally distant may have learned that vulnerability invited criticism. The man who insists he is fine may have spent years believing that other people's needs matter more than his own. The man who finds it difficult to trust may never have experienced a relationship where he felt fully accepted. None of these responses suggest that something is wrong with the person sitting in front of me. Instead, they invite compassion and curiosity.
At Braver Days Therapy , I believe counselling offers more than an opportunity to talk. It offers the possibility of experiencing a different kind of relationship, one where there is no expectation to perform, no pressure to be anyone other than yourself and no conditions attached to being accepted. Perhaps the goal is not to teach men how to be vulnerable but to offer a relationship in which vulnerability no longer feels unsafe.
This article is a personal reflection informed by my work as a person-centred counsellor, professional reading and ongoing reflective practice. It is not intended to represent the experiences of all men, but to contribute to a conversation about how counselling can become a place where vulnerability feels safe rather than expected.
References
Bola, J. J. (2019). Mask Off: Masculinity Redefined. Pluto Press.
Harkness, E. (2024). The Truth About Men and Therapy. Therapy Today.
Mearns, D., & Cooper, M. (2018). Working at Relational Depth in Counselling and Psychotherapy. Sage.
Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person. Constable.
Movember. https://uk.movember.com
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