Men & Depression: Facing Darkness

Often the person who seeks treatment isn't the depressed man, but his fed-up wife. Terrence Real, author of "I Don't Want to Talk About It: Overcoming the Secret Legacy of Male Depression," says most men in counseling are what he calls "wife-mandated referrals." When depression left Phil Aronson unable to get out of bed, feed himself or even pick up the phone, his wife, Emme, the well-known model, physically helped him into the shower, found doctors and therapists, and drove him to appointments, even escorting him inside. At one point, when Phil became suicidal, doctors told Emme it was her job to make sure he continued taking his medication and keep him safe from himself. "It was such an incredibly awesome, all-encompassing responsibility," says Emme, who became the sole caretaker of Toby, their daughter, then 2 years old. Even when the depression began to lift, her husband's moodiness took a toll on their marriage and Emme's career. "I had to be caretaker, I had to be a supportive wife, I had to leave my work. I was developing a new TV show and had to drop it." Today Phil is recovered, and Emme is thrilled to once again have a partner who makes her laugh, contributes to the relationship and helps parent Toby, now 5.

Success and wealth offer no protection from the ravages of depression. At 46, Philip Burguières was running a Fortune 500 company, traveling constantly and meeting with shareholders, when, in the middle of a staff meeting on a Tuesday afternoon, he suddenly collapsed. Doctors diagnosed him with depression and encouraged him to leave his high-stress job. But after a short hospital stay, he was back in the game and by the following year was running Weatherford International, an energy-services company with $3 billion in revenues. The pressure became unbearable, and in 1996 he once again took a medical leave. "The second one was a grade-A, level-10, atomic-bomb depression," he says. In his darkest moments, he was certain the world would be better off without him, but even then, he felt enormous pressure to succeed. "I want out, but am stuck because I have never quit anything in my life," he wrote in a hospital diary. Strengthened by counseling and a friendship with a similarly depressed CEO, Burguières attained what he describes as a "full recovery" and stepped down as CEO. He found new work running a family investment company and as vice chairman of the NFL's Houston Texans, positions that permit him to delegate more responsibility and have more fun. He also found that helping other people was the best way for him to get better, and since 1998, he has been privately counseling the numerous depressed CEOs who seek him out. "You get outside yourself; you don't obsess on your own issues," he says.

Fading social stigmas are already making it easier for young men to come forward. Recently, Zach Braff, filmmaker and star of TV's "Scrubs," told a reporter from Parade magazine that he thinks he suffers from "mild depression." At colleges and universities across the nation, health officials are putting mental-health care front and center. At UCLA, the Student Psychological Services moved two years ago from a basement office to a bright building in the center of campus across from Pauley Pavilion. In January, center director Elizabeth Gong-Guy walked through the waiting room and noticed that every person there was male. "It was amazing to me," she says. "I've been doing this for 18 years and that's not something you would have seen even three years ago."

Social attitudes toward depression are changing, thanks in part to men themselves. John Aberle is a sales and marketing consultant, retired Air Force security specialist, part-time radio talk-show host, devoted husband, active father and a 6-foot-4, 250-pound body-builder who twice faced a depression so deep, he cried on his knees. He readily tells other men it's their duty to get better. "There's no crime in having a disorder, whatever it is," says Aberle, 38. "The crime is not dealing with it. It's your responsibility to be at the top of your game." Taking care of yourself physically, mentally and emotionally—maybe that's the real definition of what it means to be a man.

With Karen Springen in Chicago and Mary Carmichael in Boston

© 2007