Softly Falling: A Reflection on Male Depression
Softly Falling:
A Reflection on Male Depression
Written by Demetrius “6ixx” Similien
Rock Bottom
I don’t recall the exact moment I began to fall. There was no dramatic event, no clear turning point. But I remember vividly when I hit rock bottom.
I was sitting alone in a dimly lit gentleman’s club, tucked away in a booth, surrounded by blaring music and murmured conversations. Yet all I could hear were the relentless voices in my head, reminding me of every misstep—every person I had let down. The external noise was completely drowned out by my internal chaos.
In that moment, I felt nothing. No excitement. No sadness. Just a void.
I had gone to the club hoping the mix of music, alcohol, and fleeting connections would drown out the storm inside me. But instead, I was hit with a stark realization: I was completely numb.
This experience isn’t unique.
So many men struggle silently with depression, often not even realizing they’re slipping until they hit their own breaking point. Society has long told us that men should be stoic, resilient, emotionally reserved. That narrative discourages us from talking about how we feel. It teaches us to bottle things up and tough it out.
And because of that, male depression often looks different—less sadness and tears, more irritability, risk-taking, and withdrawal. These signs are easy to miss—or to brush off.
The stigma surrounding mental health, especially for men, only makes it worse. Admitting you’re struggling is too often seen as weakness. But really, it’s one of the bravest things you can do. Seeking help isn’t a failure. It’s a first step toward healing.
Falling Since Childhood
It wasn’t some sudden collapse. It was slow, gradual, like a leaf drifting quietly to the ground.
For the longest time, I thought I had to be okay.
I was the eldest child of a young mother. Strength wasn’t optional—it was expected.
Vulnerability wasn’t part of the deal.
That silent pressure is something a lot of men carry. We’re taught early on to keep our emotions in check, to see vulnerability as weakness. Over time, that kind of emotional repression can disconnect us from our own feelings. And when that happens, it becomes harder to recognize when we’re struggling.
Depression doesn’t always hit like a storm. Sometimes it shows up quietly—irritability, fatigue, a loss of interest in things we used to love.
For men, those subtle signs are especially tricky. We don’t always see them for what they are. And even when we do, we often don’t know what to do about them.
For me, the descent showed up in self-sabotaging behavior. I did reckless things—not for the thrill, but because I was desperate to feel something. Anything to break through the numbness.
And I know I’m not alone in that. A lot of men mask their pain with risky behavior, because it’s the only way they know how to cope.
The real challenge is recognizing those signs and understanding that asking for help isn’t weakness. It’s courage. Stepping away from those old ideas of masculinity opens up space to feel—to connect—to heal.
Rising Again
We need more spaces where men can talk openly without fear of being judged. Where we can support each other and break down the stigma around male mental health.
Because the truth is, vulnerability connects us. It’s through sharing our stories that we create a culture of empathy and strength.
I didn’t know I was falling. But in acknowledging the fall, I’ve found a way to rise again.
Healing starts with awareness. And that first step—however small—is everything.
Meet the Author
About Demetrius “6ixx” Similien
Demetrius Similien is a proud graduate of the HBCU system, having attended Savannah State University and earning his degree from Benedict College with a dual major in Political Science and Philosophy. Grounded in critical thought and community ethics, Demetrius began his career as a Community Engagement Coordinator and Policy Developer for the Clinton Foundation, working across the United States to help Black and Brown communities navigate and understand policies impacting education, economics, and labor.
