Mark* was 48. A former regional sales manager, father of two, Sunday footy coach, and the one everyone turned to for advice. He cracked jokes at barbecues, never missed a mortgage payment, and always replied, “All good, mate,” when asked how he was. What most didn’t see was that after a redundancy in 2022, Mark began quietly unravelling. Confidence eroded, purpose gone, support thin. In March 2023, Mark took his own life.

Mark was one of 2,419 Australian men who died by suicide that year. That’s around 18 men per 100,000, three times the rate for women. A stark figure, but these aren’t just statistics. They are fathers. Sons. Mates. And the leading cause of death for men aged 15 to 44.

The Scale of the Crisis

Let’s be clear: suicide is killing Australian men in devastating numbers. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics:

• 2,419

men died by suicide in 2023.

• Men made up 75% of all suicides.
• Men aged 85 and over had the highest suicide rate, at 32.7 per 100,000, nearly three times the national average.
• Suicide rates are significantly higher in rural and remote areas.
• For young and middle-aged men, suicide outranks cancer, heart disease, or road accidents.

Yet despite this, male suicide remains a largely silent epidemic. Under-discussed, under-acknowledged, and painfully misunderstood.

Who Is Most at Risk?

Often dubbed the “forgotten demographic,” men aged 40–59 experience some of the highest suicide rates. Many are navigating job insecurity, divorce, financial pressure, or identity crises tied to traditional roles as providers. They’re less likely to have strong social networks, and even less likely to ask for help.

Shockingly,  elderly men have the highest suicide rate of any age group. The reasons are complex—bereavement, loneliness, chronic illness, and a lack of meaningful connection or purpose. Depression often goes undiagnosed. Societal ageism tells them they’re no longer needed.

For Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander men, the picture is even bleaker. The suicide rate is almost three times higher than for non-Indigenous men. The median age of suicide is just 33 years. Structural disadvantage, intergenerational trauma, and culturally unsafe mental health systems play a major role.

Meanwhile Veterans often carry silent injuries, including PTSD, survivor’s guilt, disconnection from civilian life. Rural men face isolation, less access to services, and greater access to lethal means like firearms. Cultural norms often promote a “harden up” mentality, discouraging vulnerability or outreach.

Why Are Men Dying?

Australian men are taught from a young age to be stoic, strong, and self-reliant. These traits, while sometimes useful, become dangerous when men suppress emotional pain. Many don’t have the language or permission to say, “I’m not okay.”

Research by Life in Mind highlights low help-seeking behaviours among men, especially when it comes to mental health. Fear of appearing weak, shame, or simply not recognising the signs of depression often keep men silent until it’s too late.

And for those who do seek help? Regional services are often stretched thin. Indigenous men struggle to find culturally safe support. The system doesn’t always meet them where they are.

Putting Faces to the Numbers

Mark’s story is sadly not uncommon. He had no diagnosed mental illness. What he had was a series of life shocks. He lost his job, experienced a relationship breakdown, and developed a sense that no one needed him anymore. His mates thought he was just “going through a rough patch.” He never reached out, never let it show. Because that’s not what men like Mark were taught to do.

Another example: Life in Mind cites the case of a 55-year-old Indigenous man in a remote community who struggled after returning from military service. Despite his strength and dignity, untreated trauma and cultural displacement left him adrift. He was known for helping others but died never having asked for help himself.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Hope lies in connection, culture, and community.

• Men’s Sheds and peer support groups offer vital spaces where men can talk openly, regain purpose, and feel seen.
• We need policy investment in mental health services, especially in rural and Indigenous communities.
• We must continue to destigmatise vulnerability, championing emotional expression as strength, not weakness.
• Indigenous-led programs must be empowered and expanded, rooted in cultural healing and storytelling.

Every man lost to suicide is one too many. But these deaths are not inevitable. They are preventable, with the right mix of empathy, outreach, and sustained attention.

A Final Word

What if someone had noticed Mark wasn’t “all good”? What if we, as a culture, normalised asking twice, or listening deeper? What if our workplaces and communities built more spaces for honesty, not just resilience? We need to find a way to move beyond awareness and into action. So if you’re struggling, or know someone who is, please reach out:

Lifeline

– 13 11 14

Beyond Blue – 1300 22 4636

13YARN (First Nations support) – 13 92 76

Because behind every number is a man with a name. And every name matters.

* Mark’s name was altered for this article. 

There’s a reason the podcast Don’t Let the Old Man In resonates with thousands of men in their 50s. It speaks to the quiet war many fight against obsolescence, irrelevance, and a determination to navigate life’s crossroads with clarity and confidence. And likewise, if you’re reading this, you haven’t given up. You’re still curious. Maya Angelou once said, “If you’re always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.” Midlife career change isn’t about being extraordinary. It’s about being aligned—with yourself.

Stephen Keys is the Producer of the Don’t Let the Old Man In podcast. Listen on YouTube, Apple, Spotify or wherever you tune in. Find more thoughts on living gracefully (and disgracefully) in the second half of life at The Wisdom Vault, on LinkedIn, Substack and even (!) Instagram.