I was devastated to read the story of Zachery Stolpp recently in the Recorder. Most of my career has been spent writing about higher education policy. Recently, however, I have been publishing articles about psychiatric illnesses. Zachery’s story touched my heart this week.

Last week, my friend Bryan died by suicide.

After years of mental health challenges, he could simply no longer face the pain. And Bryan is not the only man I have lost recently: one died of an overdose, another from bipolar disorder, as well as other men who have touched my life over the past several years. Jessica Kyle’s story is another example of a family member who lost a loved one to psychiatric illnesses. Importantly, the ones who lost their lives were men.

Bryan’s death has felt overwhelming. I remember sitting with him in our gym just before the start of the COVID pandemic. We talked about anxiety, stress, relationship troubles, financial issues, and the feelings of pressure to get everything right. Although we have not seen each other in several years, I will never forget those late afternoon chats when the gym was quiet — we sat together watching cars and people hum along 31st Street in Manhattan.

Over the past week, I started to question why so many men in my life, including Bryan, were dying by suicide and why I am still alive. I have battled severe bipolar disorder for most of my life — only recently was I diagnosed and treated. My friends are dying and I am still here fighting to survive.

The growing list of lost lives tells a much larger story: men’s mental health is pushed to the side, ignored, and often left untreated. Men are less likely than women to secure mental health therapy and counseling. And, men often suffer much longer — if they remain alive — as diseases are treated for the first time later in life. Those with bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and other serious illnesses reduce average life expectancy for the sufferer by over a decade. As I have understood my own disease, and lost friends to mental health conditions, I deeply understand why suicide feels like the only way out. Mental illnesses destroy energy, hope, love, emotion, and often cause significant issues in professional and personal relationships. For me, mania causes destruction, while depression erodes hope for a positive future. Medications can often cause many unpleasant side effects.

Men in western Massachusetts face even greater challenges. Limited access to local mental healthcare, rising housing costs, availability of illegal drugs, and fewer job opportunities have created a perfect storm for those with psychiatric illnesses. Battling the stigmas of therapy and medication, men internalize trauma, anxiety, and panic until they see no other option but suicide. Alcohol and drugs become supplements for medication.

I have been an inch away from death several times. This has happened more frequently and severely as I have aged. After my diagnosis and treatment, however, I am finding more peace and comfort in my daily life. This has come alongside major life changes, including my professional choices. After several years of working in Greenfield, I have come to develop many lifelong friendships with people who live in a town that I still very much care about. But many of the men I love in western Massachusetts, just like here at home in Connecticut, need our attention, our care, and our compassion.

Men are struggling. Men in my life are dying — which must mean men in your lives are, too.

Chet Ragusett, Ph.D., is an author, academic, and former Greenfield Community College provost.