The Silent Epidemic: When Will We Value Mental Health?

I'm not here to exploit the tragic loss of the Selwood brothers. This isn't about two more men (public figures or otherwise)lost to an epidemic we refuse to name properly. This is about a desperate cry that continues to echo unanswered through our society.

When will we finally accept that mental health isn't some luxury add-on to "real" healthcare? How many more research papers need to gather dust on academic shelves? How many more hashtags and awareness months must we endure while the system remains fundamentally broken? How many more deaths will it take until suicide is discussed openly in our media without whispers and euphemisms? How much longer will we pretend that ten annual Medicare subsidized therapy sessions can patch a lifetime of struggle?

That visceral knot in your stomach when you hear the word "suicide", that's not respect, that's fear. Fear of confronting what we've allowed to fester for decades.

Men's mental health isn't just a "men's issue." It's a societal plague that infects every aspect of our communities. Look around you. See the addiction. See the homelessness. See the violence. See the economic burden. See the physical deterioration. These aren't isolated problems, they're interconnected symptoms of a society that treats mental suffering as a character flaw rather than a public health crisis.

I'm exhausted by a system built on knee-jerk reactions, designed to address symptoms while ignoring causes. A system that wants to medicalize human suffering without examining the society that breeds it. A system that would rather we hide our pain than confront its failure to heal it.

In my own journey, I was privileged. I had support, knowledge, and tools to advocate for myself through the labyrinth of healing. But what about those already vulnerable? Those without resources? Those who can't fight the system while simultaneously fighting their own minds?

Let's be brutally honest: crises touch all our lives. Suicidal thoughts can be part of the human experience. But the chasm between fleeting darkness and formulating a plan and then carrying it out, requires a perfect storm of isolation, hopelessness, and systemic abandonment.

You might ask how we fix this. I don't have all the answers to something so complex and deeply entrenched. What I can offer is love, compassion to my brothers struggling in silence, and the wisdom earned through my own battle: you are not weak for suffering; the system is weak for failing you.

I desperately hope those with power will finally take accountability for our mental healthcare. That they'll recognize their responsibility extends beyond platitudes and token funding.

Until then, brothers, we are not alone in this fight. Keep breathing. Keep reaching out. Keep holding on. Suicide is never truly a choice. it's what happens when all other choices seem impossible. And we must build a world where better choices are always within reach.