He had the title. The salary. The accolades. The influence. The LinkedIn profile that said it all.
From the outside, he was winning. But inside, he felt numb, trapped in a life built on silent expectations: to be strong, to provide, to never falter. Like many men in leadership, he had been taught that emotions were distractions, that worth was earned through performance, and that vulnerability was weakness. But what happens when the achievements pile up and it still doesn’t feel like enough? When the applause fades, and all that’s left is a quiet question: Is this really it?
In this article, we’re going to explore the hidden emotional toll of high achievement among men in leadership, from the pressure to appear unshakeable, to the performance trap that replaces self-worth with status. We’ll unpack the stigma surrounding mental health in executive spaces, and offer practical, grounded ways for men to reconnect with themselves beneath the surface of success.
The Stoic Mask: Why Men Don’t Break (Even When They Should)
From a young age, boys are often taught that emotions are liabilities. Tears are ridiculed. Fear is met with shame. And anything resembling vulnerability is dismissed as weakness. As men rise into leadership, those early lessons rarely fade, they just get polished to look professional. What begins as emotional suppression becomes a hardened identity: calm under pressure, emotionally detached, decisive at all costs. The model male leader is expected to be many things, but human is rarely one of them.
Psychologist Dr Ronald Levant, a leading researcher in men’s mental health, coined the term “normative male alexithymia” to describe the socialised inability of many men to identify and express their emotions. It’s not that men don’t feel; it’s that they have been conditioned to mute those feelings for the sake of performance. In leadership, this muting becomes even more dangerous. The boardroom doesn’t reward honesty about emotional fatigue or anxiety, it rewards composure. And so, many men continue to wear the stoic mask, even as their internal worlds unravel.
What makes this silence, so devastating is that it’s not just about avoiding weakness. It’s about survival. In many industries, especially those still dominated by masculine ideals of control and certainty, revealing emotional strain is perceived as career suicide. But beneath the mask, the pressure builds. Without safe outlets, that internal weight can become unbearable leading to burnout, relationship breakdowns, substance misuse, or worse. According to the World Health Organisation, suicide remains one of the leading causes of death among men globally, particularly in middle-aged and older men. Leadership may command respect, but it does not protect against isolation.
The Performance Trap: When Your Worth Is Tied to Output
Achievement brings validation, recognition, and an illusion of control. But ambition soon reveals a darker side: success becomes a treadmill. Every milestone reached only feeds the delusion that more must follow. The size of the deal shrinks while its shadow grows. Prestige becomes the currency of self-worth, replacing genuine purpose.
Psychologist Brené Brown explains how people become trapped in contingent self-worth, a state where self-esteem hinges entirely on external achievements. When your value depends on performance, job titles, bonuses, public praise, you become vulnerable to a cycle that never truly ends. You need the next win just to feel “enough,” and without it, your identity feels at risk.
The high performer admired by colleagues may be driven by internal insecurity masked by polished confidence. This becomes even more toxic in a corporate culture where output is equated with identity. Over time, this creates a cycle of exhaustion and emptiness. Work harder to compensate. Receive praise for the sacrifice. Feel even more depleted. Until one day, sitting at the corner office, everything feels hollow.
Mental Health at the Top: The Loneliness of Leadership
One of the greatest ironies of leadership is that power often isolates. As men climb higher, their inner circles shrink. The expectation to have all the answers breeds fear of admitting doubt. The responsibility to be reliable makes sharing personal struggles feel like a betrayal. In many senior roles, this emotional restraint is silently applauded, especially among men, where vulnerability is still widely perceived as weakness.
A Deloitte Canada report found that over 80 percent of senior leaders reported exhaustion levels consistent with burnout, and half had considered stepping away from their roles entirely, either through resignation, leave, or retirement. While the study includes leaders of all genders, the findings are particularly sobering in male-dominated industries, where masculinity is still associated with endurance, composure, and control. The stigma around seeking help remains deeply entrenched, preventing many male executives from speaking openly about their mental health for fear of appearing unstable or unfit for leadership.
This silence comes at a cost. Leaders shape culture. When they suppress their own struggles, emotional rigidity trickles down. Empathy becomes scarce. Burnout spreads. And the organisation begins to mirror the very isolation felt at the top. For many men in leadership, the job is not only demanding, but also quietly depleting.
Rebuilding from Within: What Wholeness Could Look Like
So, what does it mean to lead with something deeper than status or results? It begins with rejecting the belief that success must come at the cost of self. Men in leadership need spaces that allow them to be seen not only as performers or providers, but as people. This requires a different type of courage. Not the kind that demands spotlight and applause, but the quieter kind that walks into a room and says, “I’m not okay,” and trusts that it will not be the end of the world.
Therapy, coaching, journaling, and emotional literacy are not soft tools. They are necessary. Leadership demands clarity, empathy, and self-awareness, all of which are strengthened through intentional self-work. Therapy gives language to what has been buried. Coaching offers perspective. Journalling slows the noise long enough to actually hear yourself think. Learning to name and express what you feel builds the foundation for real connection, both with yourself and with others.
Healing does not happen through strategy or status. It begins in stillness. It begins when men allow themselves to feel what they have long suppressed and start to rebuild from a place that is not driven by fear of failure, but by the pursuit of internal peace. That process is not easy, but it is deeply necessary.
What Success Shouldn’t Cost You
It’s It is easy to fall in love with the version of yourself that others celebrate, the one who delivers results, holds the line, and keeps everything together. But if the pursuit of that image comes at the cost of your inner life, it is not leadership. It is erosion. Success that silences your emotions, isolates your relationships, and leaves you feeling numb is not success at all. It is a performance with no audience. A race with no finish.
The path forward will not be paved with performance alone. It requires a redefinition of strength, one that allows men to be seen, not only as leaders, but as humans with inner lives that matter. This begins with shifting how we lead, but it cannot stop there. Organisations must create cultures where men in senior roles feel safe to speak, without fear of judgement or loss of credibility. That means moving beyond wellness slogans into action. Leadership retreats that prioritise psychological safety, executive check-ins that include mental health, and normalising therapy at the top should no longer be optional.
Companies like Unilever have embedded psychological safety training into global leadership development and created peer support systems that encourage open dialogue. In South Africa, Discovery Health provides executive wellness programmes that integrate therapy, medical care, and psychological services tailored for high-pressure roles. These are not perks. They are essential investments in sustainable leadership.
But this is not only a corporate responsibility. Men need communities where they are not required to wear the mask. That means families, friends, and especially women must be part of this shift. Too often, men stay silent not because they lack the language, but because they fear being a burden. The support they need is not always advice or fixing. Sometimes, it is space. Space to feel. Space to fall apart. Space to be human and know they will not be left behind for it.
Rebuilding does not always look like transformation. Sometimes, it looks like a small, consistent decision to live differently. Booking that therapy session. Taking the walk. Reaching out to a friend, not with answers, but with honesty. Telling your son it is okay to feel afraid. Letting go of the belief that you have to hold everything together alone.
As we mark Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, may we not only acknowledge the silent weight many men carry, but begin to lift it. As colleagues, as partners, as leaders, as communities. Not through grand gestures, but through quiet bravery, honest questions, and the courage to say, “There is more to me than what I achieve. And that is enough.”
