Utah has made real progress in acknowledging that men struggle with mental health. Public conversations are more open than they were a decade ago. Employers, churches, and community leaders now regularly encourage men to speak up, check in on one another, and ask for help when they need it.

That encouragement matters. But it is only the first step. What often goes unexamined is what happens after a man actually does speak up.

For many Utah men, the moment of honesty is followed not by support, but by confusion. Advice is vague. Resources are unclear. Appointments involve long waits or complex requirements. Help exists in theory, but not always in practice.

This gap between encouragement and reality is where many men quietly disengage. They tried to do what we asked. They admitted they were struggling. Then they were left to navigate systems that were not built with them in mind.

Utah prides itself on self reliance and resilience. Those values can be strengths. They can also shape how support systems are designed and how men experience them. Many services assume emotional fluency, persistence, and administrative stamina that struggling men often do not have at the moment they reach out.

Men are frequently told to talk more, but rarely told where to go or what the process will actually involve. They are encouraged to seek help, then handed phone trees, intake forms, insurance hurdles, or months long waits. The result is not just frustration. It is reinforcement of the belief that asking for help was a mistake.

This disconnect is rarely driven by bad intentions. Utah has many dedicated professionals and organizations working hard in this space. The problem is structural. Awareness has outpaced infrastructure. Cultural encouragement has moved faster than practical access.

In a state that values community, this gap can feel especially isolating. Men are surrounded by messages about belonging and mutual support, yet experience their own struggles as private and inconvenient. When help is difficult to access or poorly explained, silence begins to feel safer than persistence.

There is also a tendency to treat men’s mental health as an individual responsibility rather than a systems challenge. If a man misses an appointment or gives up, the assumption is often that he lacked commitment. Less attention is paid to whether the path forward was realistic in the first place.

If Utah wants to take men’s mental health seriously, the next phase cannot be more slogans or reminders to speak up. It has to involve examining whether our institutions are prepared to receive men once they do.

That means clearer entry points. Fewer opaque processes. Better communication about what help actually involves. It means recognizing that the moment a man reaches out is often the least organized and least articulate moment of his life.

Encouragement without follow through is not neutral. It teaches men that vulnerability is risky and that silence is easier. Over time, that lesson spreads quietly, reinforcing the very isolation we claim to be addressing.

Utah has shown it can lead on difficult conversations. The next test is whether it can move from encouragement to support, from awareness to access. Telling men to speak up matters. Making sure there is somewhere real to land when they do matters just as much.

Jay Werther is a resident of Park City.