How a Middle-Aged White Lesbian Ended Up Specializing in Men's Trauma
People are always surprised when they find out that a significant portion of my caseload is men dealing with trauma. I'm surprised too. When I tell people what I do for a living, I get some pretty interesting reactions. Picture this: I'm a middle-aged white lesbian woman who specializes in helping men recover from trauma. Not exactly most people's first guess, right?
But here's the thing – sometimes the most unexpected paths lead to the most meaningful work. And that's exactly what happened to me.
Starting Over at 50
Seven years ago, I was living a completely different life. I had been a sign language interpreter for three decades – and I was good at it. I loved the work, loved being that bridge between the hearing and deaf communities. But something was shifting inside me. Maybe it was turning 50, maybe it was just that feeling that there was something else I was supposed to be doing with my life. Maybe it was a mid-life crisis, I don't know. I just knew it was time for a change.
I had no idea what I wanted, I just knew I wanted something different. So I started thinking back – what did I want to do when I was young, before I started my interpreting career? In college I was a vocal music major, and I love music, I love singing, but that's not a career, at least not for me. Then I remembered. I wanted to be a therapist! As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I knew that was the answer. I knew that was what I was meant to do for the second half of my life.
Now, when you're starting over in your 50s, you don't always get to be picky about your first job. When I finished my degree and got licensed, the opportunity that came up was at a residential rehab facility – specifically, a facility for men dealing with substance use disorders.
Walking Through Those Doors
I remember my first day walking through those doors. I was nervous, I'll be honest. At that point in my life, aside from my family and the husbands of friends, I didn't have a lot of interaction with men. My world was pretty female-centered – my partner, our friend group, most of my colleagues in the interpreting world. I wasn't sure what I was walking into. But I thought, "the universe has brought you this opportunity for a reason," and I went into that first job with an open mind and a humble heart.
But what I saw that first day changed everything for me. Here was a room full of men at probably one of the lowest points in their lives, and they were making this incredibly brave and vulnerable choice to enter treatment because they desperately wanted change.
You know what struck me most? These men didn't fit the stereotypes society tries to tell us about addicts. These were guys who had been trying so hard to handle everything on their own that they had literally exhausted every other option before walking through those doors.
The Pattern That Changed Everything
In those first few weeks, I started noticing patterns. Every single man who came through that program – and I mean every single one – was carrying some form of serious unresolved trauma. Not just the trauma of addiction, but trauma that predated their substance use. Childhood abuse, combat exposure, accidents, violence they had witnessed or experienced, sudden losses, betrayals – everything you can imagine and more.
And I noticed something fascinating: the way these men talked about their trauma was completely different than what I had been exposed to in school and in my training. They weren't just dealing with what had happened to them – they were dealing with intense shame about how they were responding to what had happened to them.
Let me give you an example. I'll create a character – let's call him Mike. Mike was a construction foreman, smart, successful guy, competent, respected by his crew, had a family he adored. But he'd been in a serious accident on a job site where a co-worker died, and Mike couldn't stop replaying it in his mind. He wasn't sleeping, he was having panic attacks, and he started drinking to cope.
But Mike didn't come to me talking about grief or survivor guilt or PTSD symptoms. Mike came to me angry – angry at himself for "being weak," angry that he "couldn't handle" something that happened to him, angry that he felt like he was "falling apart" when he should be "tougher than this."
The trauma was there, absolutely. But it was wrapped up in this crushing layer of shame about not being the man he thought he should be.
Understanding Male Trauma
This became a pattern I saw over and over again. These men weren't just asking for help with their trauma – they were asking for help with their identity crisis around their trauma. Who were they if they couldn't handle what life threw at them? What did it mean to be a man if you couldn't protect yourself or others from harm? How do you reconcile needing help with being raised to believe that real men solve their own problems?
I realized I was learning something important here. Male trauma often doesn't look like the textbook PTSD symptoms people learn about. Sometimes it shows up as anger that seems disproportionate to the situation. Sometimes it's workaholism – staying so busy that you don't have time to think about what happened. Sometimes it's complete emotional shutdown, where you just stop feeling things. And sometimes, yes, it shows up as substance abuse.
Opening My Own Practice
After three years working in rehab settings, I opened my own private practice. I figured I'd have a general therapy practice – you know, couples, individuals dealing with anxiety and depression, and Deaf people, of course, since I was fluent in sign language. No need to leave the Deaf community behind, I could offer a service that is often hard to access for Deaf people.
But something surprising happened. Almost immediately, men started seeking me out specifically for trauma work. And they were being referred by other men I had helped. I'd get calls where guys would say, "My buddy Mike said you helped him figure out some stuff, and I think I need to figure out some stuff too."
This was fascinating to me because, like I said, I'm not exactly the obvious choice if you're a man looking for a trauma therapist.
Why Being Unexpected Actually Works
But I started to understand why it was working. See, I think there's something to be said for being an unexpected choice. The men who ended up in my office weren't necessarily looking for someone who reminded them of themselves – a lot of them had tried that approach and it hadn't worked. They were looking for someone who could help them figure out what was going on without making them feel judged or broken.
And here's something I realized about my own perspective that actually helped in this work: as a lesbian, I already understood what it was like to navigate the world differently than what people expected. I knew what it felt like to have your core self not match what society thought you should be.
I wasn't trying to be one of the guys. I wasn't pretending to understand experiences I hadn't had. But I did understand what it was like when your identity felt under attack, when who you were didn't fit into neat boxes, and when you needed space to figure out how to be yourself in a world that had strong opinions about who you should be.
Plus – and let's be honest here – sometimes it's easier to open up to someone who clearly isn't going to judge your masculinity because they're not operating in that system at all. I wasn't evaluating whether my clients were "man enough." I was evaluating whether they were getting the help they needed.
The Statistics That Opened My Eyes
Here are some statistics that might surprise you: Men are actually 1.5 times more likely to experience trauma than women. Men are more likely to experience combat exposure, physical assaults, accidents, and to witness violence. But – and here's the disconnect – they're half as likely to receive a PTSD diagnosis.
Why? Well, partly because trauma in men often gets misdiagnosed or overlooked entirely. That anger I was talking about? It might get labeled as an anger management problem instead of a trauma response. That emotional shutdown? It might look like depression rather than complex PTSD. That workaholism? Well, in our culture, we often see that as a positive trait rather than a potential coping mechanism.
The suicide statistics are devastating. Men complete suicide at rates 3 to 4 times higher than women. And men with PTSD are significantly more likely to develop substance abuse issues than women with PTSD.
But here's the problem: despite being more likely to experience trauma and more likely to develop severe symptoms as a result, men are far less likely to seek treatment.
How Trauma Shows Up Differently in Men
Let me tell you about some of the specific things I've learned about how trauma affects men differently, because understanding this might help you recognize whether you or someone you care about could benefit from trauma-focused therapy.
Men often experience what I call "trauma in disguise." The classic PTSD symptoms – flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks – those definitely happen. But often, male trauma shows up in ways that don't immediately scream "trauma response."
Road rage, conflicts with coworkers, snapping at family members over small things. This isn't about anger management – this is often about a nervous system that's stuck in fight-or-flight mode.
Sleep problems that go beyond just insomnia. Staying up late not because you're not tired, but because going to bed means being alone with your thoughts. Or sleeping too much because it's the only escape from symptoms.
Physical symptoms without clear medical causes. Headaches, stomach problems, back pain, muscle tension. Trauma lives in the body, and sometimes the body starts breaking down before the mind admits something's wrong.
Changes in work performance. This might be workaholism – staying busy to avoid dealing with thoughts and feelings – or it might be difficulty concentrating, making decisions, or remembering things.
And yes, substance use. Not just alcohol, though that's common. Sometimes it's prescription drugs, sometimes it's illegal substances, sometimes it's adrenaline-seeking behaviors like extreme sports or risky driving.
Here's what's important to understand: none of these responses are moral failures. They're not signs of weakness or character flaws. They're adaptive strategies that your brain and body developed to help you survive something overwhelming.
My Approach Today
Let me tell you about how I work with men today. First, we start with education. And I mean real, concrete education about what trauma actually does to your brain and body. Because here's what I've learned: men often find tremendous relief in understanding that their symptoms aren't character flaws or weaknesses – they're normal responses to abnormal situations.
When I explain how the brain responds to trauma, when I can explain why their body goes into fight-or-flight mode even when they're logically safe, when I can help them understand why their sleep is disrupted or why they feel hypervigilant – that's often the first step toward healing.
It's not that men need to intellectualize everything and avoid feelings – that's not it at all. But I've found that many men process difficult experiences by first needing to understand the "why" before they're willing to explore the "what" or "how."
Once we have that foundation, we work on practical skills for managing symptoms. Instead of just talking about feelings – though we do that too – we develop concrete strategies for handling triggers, managing anger, improving sleep, and reconnecting with people who matter.
And crucially, we address the identity issues that trauma often creates for men. When your sense of yourself as a protector, provider, or problem-solver gets shaken by trauma, we work on rebuilding that identity in a way that incorporates your trauma experience rather than being defined by it.
What I Want Men to Know
If you're reading this and thinking, "There's no way this woman could understand what I'm going through," I get it. That's a completely fair initial reaction.
But here's what I want you to consider: I'm not trying to understand your experience as a man. I'm trying to understand your experience as a human being who's been through something overwhelming. I don't need to have lived your exact life to help you make sense of how trauma is affecting you.
What I bring to this work is a deep understanding of trauma, experience helping people reclaim their lives, and a perspective that's not clouded by assumptions about how you "should" be handling things.
Your way of processing and dealing with difficult experiences is valid. You don't have to become someone else to heal from trauma. You don't have to fit into anyone's idea of what recovery should look like – including mine.
Seeking help doesn't make you weak. It makes you strategic. You wouldn't try to treat a broken leg without medical help – trauma deserves the same level of professional attention.
Think about it this way: if your car was making a weird noise, you'd take it to a mechanic. Not because you're too stupid to fix cars, but because you understand that complex problems require specific expertise. Trauma therapy is the same thing.
And recovery doesn't mean talking about your feelings for hours – though sometimes that's part of it. Recovery means understanding what happened to you, developing better tools for managing your responses, and reclaiming your sense of control and identity.
The Truth About Strength
Throughout my time working in rehabs and private practice, I've never met a man who was actually weak. Not one. The men who work with me have usually survived things that would break most people. They've often been carrying their pain and managing their symptoms on their own for years or even decades before they reach out for help.
By the time a man makes that first phone call to a therapist, he's already demonstrated enormous strength and resilience. The fact that he's still functioning, still getting up every day, still caring for his family or doing his job while carrying unresolved trauma – that's not weakness. That's heroic.
But here's the thing about being a hero: even heroes need backup. Even heroes need better equipment. Even heroes need strategies and support.
The men I work with aren't looking to be fixed, because they're not broken. They're looking to be more effective at being who they already are.
Moving Forward
Recovery is possible. It doesn't have to look like what you think it should look like. It doesn't require you to become someone else or to fit into anyone else's model of what healing means.
It just requires you to be willing to consider that there might be more effective ways to handle what you're dealing with, and that you deserve to have access to those tools.
Every man who walks into my office teaches me something new about resilience, about the different ways trauma affects people, and about the incredible strength it takes to ask for help. My specialization in male trauma didn't happen overnight – it evolved from listening to my clients and adapting my approach to meet their needs.
If you're considering therapy but feel unsure about whether it will work for you, I encourage you to find someone who understands how you process the world. The right therapeutic approach can make all the difference between staying stuck in survival mode and reclaiming your life. The right therapist for you is out there, and they may be someone you wouldn't expect.
This content is for informational purposes only and is not intended to serve as professional therapeutic advice or imply a personal therapeutic relationship. If you're struggling with trauma, I encourage you to seek the help of a qualified mental health professional who meets your unique needs.
Lisa LeMaster is a Licensed Professional Counselor providing telehealth services throughout the State of Louisiana.