(Content Warning: depression, thoughts of suicide)
I can't count how many times I've said male depression isn't real and that the worst psychological torment most males are capable of experiencing is lack of pussy.
I've suffered from depression for a good chunk of my life (I'm turning 37 in a few weeks). For a number of years, I was miserable for a variety of reasons (including, yes, material concerns about having a home and food, though nothing to do with a lack of sex) and sometimes had thoughts of suicide (also for multiple reasons, such as feeling useless and thinking my family would be better off without me). My depression only increased after my mom began suffering from seizures and mini-strokes starting in 2017, as they often left her either unable to talk or suffering from (thankfully temporary) memory loss. She eventually got better, but then she got cancer.
After my mom died from cancer in July 2023, the depression and thoughts of suicide increased by a ton - I missed her so much that I wanted to join her in death, though I want to stress that I never actually made any attempts. It took my brother taking me to several doctors before I finally got the help I needed, and I was able to vent all of my bottled-up feelings on a variety of things. It was... dare I say... theraputic.
I still miss my mom, of course, and I've had dreams in recent months about her being alive which left me sobbing after waking up, but that and the Dump Administration's bullcrappery aside I'd say I've been doing pretty well.
So don't you dare tell me male depression "isn't real", Dumbarse.