We've all been
Tony Soprano.

Tony Soprano knows something is wrong.

He goes to therapy. He sits in the chair. He talks about his mother, his panic attacks, the weight he carries. He has every tool, every insight, every opportunity to change.

And he doesn't.

Not because he can't. Because changing means giving up the version of himself that runs things. The man in control. The man who doesn't feel. The man everyone else is afraid of. He'd rather stay broken and powerful than do the work of becoming something honest.

Most men won't relate to the mob stuff. But plenty will recognise the pattern. The bloke who knows he drinks too much but won't stop. Who knows he's emotionally unavailable but won't open up. Who's been told by his wife, his kids, his mates — something needs to change — and nods, agrees, and does absolutely nothing.

Awareness without action is just a more comfortable prison.

• Knowing what's wrong isn't the same as fixing it.
• Some men would rather manage the damage than do the repair.

Tony Soprano had more self-awareness than most men will ever have.

And it changed nothing. Because he never let it.