One thing we learn as the years pass is that depression comes in many forms. When I suffered from anxiety attacks and a sense of darkness many decades ago, the issue was solved not by antidepressants but by a forceful and caring doctor who suggested I might want to look at my lifestyle.

Moderate soft drug abuse—speed, marijuana, ecstasy—heavy alcohol intake, and smoking were all in the mix. If you’re poisoning your body, it makes sense that your brain would get a bit toxic too. This concept is crystal clear now, but back then, it was like trying to explain algebra to a goldfish.

The Dark Side of Ambition

But there’s another, more frightening side to depression, especially in men. Some blokes, particularly those who are highly driven and successful, find that dealing with being yesterday’s man is a bitter pill to swallow. So bitter, in fact, that some see no alternative other than to take their own lives. Absolutely shocking.

This seems to be particularly common in high-level sports or the cutthroat world of business. If you’re used to being at the top of your game—whether it’s scoring goals or raking in sales—suddenly being out of the running can send your system into meltdown.

Is Ambition Overrated?

So, is the pursuit of greatness all it’s cracked up to be? Personally, I’ve always struggled a bit with ambition. I’ve got just enough in me to make a few quid and the occasional burst of inspiration before desperation sets in, but that’s about it. I’ve often wondered what it must be like to be highly motivated, especially when we all like the shiny things that come with heaps of cash. But I’ve never tried it, because, frankly, I can’t be arsed.

Sure, I’d love a bigger house, a Porsche 911, or one of those massive Range Rovers. But only if someone handed it to me or I won it in a competition—which would never happen, because I don’t enter competitions. And even then, I’d be worried everyone would think I was a wanker, so what’s the point? Are you really trying to say, “Look at me, I’m fucking great”? Seems like a lot of effort just to be judged by people you don’t even like.

The Sushi Standoff

Despite my occasional grumbles about lacking ambition, I’ve realised it’s a bit overrated. Take my recent, rare client visit. The client insisted on putting a face to a name, so off I went. The meeting was at a pharmaceutical company’s offices being refitted, and when I got there, I was greeted by a nice, good-looking bloke who was about three feet taller than me, wearing a roll-neck jumper, tight trousers, and black trainers with massive white soles. The canteen? Not a sausage and chips in sight—just a bloody sushi restaurant. When did that happen?

There I was, a bit tubby, five foot eight inches tall (on a good day), trying to decipher a sushi menu while wearing boot-fit Levis, an ageing polo shirt, and a pair of Loake brogues. I suddenly realised I was yesterday’s man. Twenty years ago, I’d have fit right in, but now? Not so much. At least I wasn’t rocking a double-breasted suit and a paisley tie, so there’s that.

I managed to turn the situation into a bit of a laugh. The guy I met was thoroughly decent, but he was so much younger, healthier, and more ambitious than me. A bit naïve, too, which was somewhat reassuring. The thing is, although I was a bit taken aback by how the modern world had left me in the dust, I wasn’t really bothered. It happens. Trying to dress like that bloke would’ve made me look utterly ridiculous.

When Ambition Turns Toxic

But what if you can’t cope with that? What if it’s in your DNA to stay relevant—a big hitter in the industry, refusing to accept your physical and mental decline? That must be terrifying. Watching over your shoulder as the young guns hunt you down while you desperately try to stay ahead. The stress must be intolerable, and it’s likely a big contributor to clinical depression. Just 100 years ago, war or disease would’ve taken you out before you even had to worry about this nonsense.

I hate hearing stories of blokes my age (like cricketer Graham Thorpe) who take their own lives because they’re convinced they’re useless. It’s heartbreaking to try and understand how someone can get to the point where they jump in front of a train. It makes me want to start a little business where I help people buy dogs and guide them on woodland walks through the seasons, helping them appreciate the simple things in life.

We all need a bit of ambition, but if it stops us smiling and drives us to insanity, it’s as bad as any addiction—booze, drugs, or gambling.