Over the past six years or so I’ve worked myself into this role as a guy who’s seemingly doing pretty well in midlife: coach, author, speaker, husband, father… all things I’m proud of. All things I’ve intentionally put effort into becoming.

But one thing I wasn’t prepared for was how other people not in our Midlife Male world view me. Because I’ve talked openly about how I’ve clawed my way back from drinking and depression and aimlessness in my late forties, people not in my direct orbit think I’m some kind of “broken man” whisperer.

Yes, I coach men. I love it. Few things are more satisfying than helping an accomplished, middle aged man find the fun, purpose and fulfillment in his life again. But I don’t solicit these people directly. They see what I’m posting. They read Midlife Male. They understand that what we’re doing is relatable, credible and aspirational and they want “in”. That’s when they get in touch with me. 

On the other hand, especially locally or in the outer rings of my personal circle of friends, people constantly want me to talk to their friends, husbands or brothers, to “fix” them. Usually, my first reaction is to say ‘yes’. To help. To share what I’ve learned. To help other men.

Unfortunately, these conversations, on the whole, are a complete waste of my time and these broken men’s time.

Every time I say ‘yes’ to going back into the pain cave with guys who remind me of the ‘me’ I used to be, I pay for it. Heavily. I end up dragged back into a version of myself I worked my ass off to leave behind. And 9.5 times out of 10, they do nothing after we talk. Or they get worse.

Here’s the truth, and it took me longer than it should have to say it out loud:

In order to go forward, I can’t allow myself to be drawn backward.

This past week made that painfully clear.

It was one of those weeks where I paid for trying to be a nice guy. And no, I don’t want any pity or bullshit like that. I'm not a nice guy. I'm a good person. Big difference. I didn’t want to feel like a jerk for saying ‘no’ to three separate things and all three went south. 

I know, not the start to the new year I was expecting either…

First, a friend asked me to talk to one of his buddies, who’s in the process of getting kicked out of his house by his wife; two kids, married for nineteen years, 47 years old, drinks too much, got caught lying to his wife again, lying about how much money he was taking out of the ATM, how much he spent entertaining clients, which strip clubs he was going to… All that stuff, you know? So, I ended up talking to this fucking guy for over an hour. He doesn’t get it.  

One of Kate’s friends asked me to go for a walk with her brother as a favor, who lost his girlfriend, can’t focus on his job, and acts like he’s lost everything and life’s hopeless. It was a long three miles listening to this guy’s pity party.

Then she sent me a text yesterday saying, “Thanks for everything you tried to do with him.  Unfortunately hasn’t gotten better—he’s gotten worse, and he just checked into rehab.” 

And I’d said yes to guesting on a podcast called “13 Minutes,” named after the statistic that every thirteen minutes a man kills himself or something  because it’s hosted by one of my son’s fraternity brothers fathers and that was a long hour that started with the question “So, why haven’t you killed yourself?”... Ummm, perhaps because I’m happy? Followed by numerous Viktor Frankl references, that I didn’t have the balls to tell him “I don’t know anything about Viktor Frankl”... Seriously, WTF?   

At some point during all of this, I thought, these are the worst possible things I could be doing for my mental health. I can’t fucking do this. I’m not a therapist. I’m not a savior. I’m not the guy with the answers for men who don’t want to help themselves.

And that realization affected me more than any of the conversations themselves.

I help guys who want to get better, actually get better. That’s forward motion. I’m not the depression coach, not the guy for other guys circling the drain. And I need to learn that just because someone asks me doesn’t mean that’s my thing.

The contrast couldn’t be clearer.

That’s the part nobody talks about.

You can want to be helpful and still need boundaries. You can be empathetic without sacrificing yourself. You can care deeply and still say no.

I didn’t get better by talking. I got better by doing.

I stopped drinking. I got in shape. I woke up earlier. I trained. I hiked. I climbed. I put things on my calendar and showed up for them. And when you do that, something interesting happens. You meet different people. You’re surrounded by people who aren’t depressed, who aren’t stuck, who aren’t circling the drain. They’re living. And once you experience that, it’s impossible to pretend you don’t know the difference.

Here’s what I’ve learned, and it’s not pretty.

Some people don’t want help. They want company. They want you to sit with them in their trauma, relive it, validate it, and carry it with them. No matter what you suggest, they already have an answer for why it won’t work. They haven’t hit bottom. They haven’t decided to change. And there is nothing you can say that will fix that.

Nothing.

That doesn’t make you mean. It doesn’t make you heartless. It makes you honest.

Something else I learned? I wasn’t really depressed. I was just sitting in an office all day,  eating like crap, sleeping even worse, not exercising, never walking and not working on anything important to me. 

When I flipped the script on all of that, my depression went away. 

Maybe the theme of all this is “When is it OK to leave the past behind for good?” 

Nowadays, people want you to revisit it, wear it as a badge. “Well, I had this, or you had that…” But if you’ve really changed, if you’re content and happy, you don’t owe it to anyone to revisit it for their sake. The worst people to be around are stuck in their trauma and want you to live there with them.

I spent years getting myself out of that place. Years in the gym. Years working on myself. Years saying no to things that were easy and yes to things that were hard. After 200-plus interviews, countless conversations, events, experiences, and a lot of personal work, I earned my way out of that life.

And I don’t owe it to anyone to go back.

That’s the realization that finally clicked for me going into this year. 

I owe my past nothing.

That version almost killed me.

This doesn’t mean I don’t care about mental health. Quite the opposite. It means I respect it enough to know my limits. It would be irresponsible for me to pretend I’m equipped to handle real depression, addiction, or crisis situations. That’s what trained professionals are for. Referring someone to a therapist isn’t a failure. It’s the right move.

What I do know how to do is help men who want to build. Men who are stable enough to move forward. Men who want to really live and enjoy life, not just survive it.

You can’t go from the ledge to maximizing midlife in one leap. You have to build the foundation first. And it takes time. I invested myself in it. Deeply. And now, years later, I sit in rooms talking about living, not about avoiding dying.

That distinction matters.

I’m selfish about self-care now, and it’s the right kind of selfishness. Because when I’m depleted, I’m no good to my wife, my kids, myself, and the men who actually want to do the work. Giving endlessly to people who make you worse doesn’t make you noble. It makes you miserable. 

Some people will read this and think it’s harsh. That’s fine. The truth usually is.

Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is stop looking backward. Stop revisiting the past. Stop letting other people pull you into a version of your life you fought your way out of.

If you want into a better room, you have to change or you will never get in.

I’m choosing to keep moving forward.

And I’m finally okay with leaving the rest behind.

In Health, 

Midlife Male
52. Husband. Father. Entrepreneur. Coach. Mediocrity happens by default. Maximization happens by design.

PS: Do you want to make the change and get into the better room?

Let’s talk. I have a few openings left for 1:1 coaching and my private adventure group. Book your call with me to see if we’re a good fit here.

At 52, I’ve learned what I wish I knew in my late 20s and 30s, that fertility isn’t just a women’s issue. Men struggle too, often silently. I did and I didn’t know it. We assume our virility and vitality will always be there until they’re not. Fertility is about more than making babies. It’s about hormone balance, energy, and long-term health.

I’m done having kids. Mine are already in their 20s. Ironically, you spend a lot of years as a parent hoping your sons don’t get anyone pregnant, and then in your 50s, you start envisioning becoming young grandparents. I want my boys to be educated.

That’s why SwimClub matters. It’s science-backed, built for men, and focuses on the key drivers of male fertility: sperm health, testosterone support, and reducing oxidative stress. It helps you feel better, perform better, and preserve what matters most.

If I’d known then what I know now, I would have started taking care of this part of my health much earlier.