You're a gay man in the second half of life, and something is heavier than it should be. Maybe it's depression or anxiety that arrived without a clear cause. Maybe it's grief, an illness — yours or your partner's — or the question of what comes next after the working years. Life may look fine from the outside. Maybe better than fine. And still: the 3 a.m. waking, the flatness where the color used to be, the low hum of worry underneath ordinary days. At this age, depression and anxiety rarely announce themselves the way the pamphlets describe — they wear disguises, and they're easy to mistake for "just getting older." They aren't. I work with gay men in the second half of life: depression and anxiety, grief — including the losses this generation carries from the epidemic years — and serious illness, which remains a focused specialty of my practice. Cancer, heart disease, HIV, a new diagnosis or one you've managed for decades. I also work with the partners and husbands beside these men, who are often carrying more than anyone thinks to ask about. I won't hand you a worksheet or talk you out of what you feel. This work sits at the intersection of history, identity, loss, and what the coming years are for — so that's where we go. Sometimes things lift; sometimes what changes first is that you stop being alone with it. I'm a member of the generation I work with. I came of age during the AIDS crisis. I watched friends die. I went to therapy because I needed help and knew it. It's why I do this work, here, in my own community. I keep my practice small on purpose. It means I know the men I work with, and I have room to think about them between sessions. We start with a brief consultation — no pressure, no commitment. You just have to begin where you are.