Ashish Kothari: Michael, my dear friend, it is so exciting to have you on our podcast and share your amazing insights with our guests around mental health, your journey, and all the beautiful work that you're doing. Thank you.
Michael Landsberg: Thank you for those words. It's equally exciting for me. I say this whenever I get in front of an audience, and I preface it by saying, "You're not going to believe this. You're going to think he's just saying that because he wants to get it over with."
But I truly mean it—every chance I get to talk about mental health, my own experience, and share it to maybe make a difference in someone's life is really an amazing experience for me. So, thank you for giving me the chance.
Ashish Kothari: For those who don't know you, Michael is one of Canada's loudest voices in pushing for mental health awareness. It all started with you sharing your own struggle with anxiety and depression on your show, Off the Record.
Can you take us back to that moment? What made you decide to speak so openly about something that so many people keep hidden? Mental health struggles are often reserved for the therapist’s office or not talked about at all. People don’t want to discuss it.
Michael Landsberg: No, they don’t. And I had no idea that was the case.
I spent a lifetime dealing with anxiety, including something called emetophobia, which I later found out I'm not the only person on the planet to experience—a fear of throwing up, a fear of being around someone who throws up. I've given 150 talks, and in at least half of them, someone has said, "Me too."
But I had no idea there was a stigma around talking about it. I can't believe I was so naive, but I never spoke about anxiety or depression. I had been hosting Off the Record for about a decade at that point, and I had never shared my experiences with severe depression or anxiety because I thought, "Who would care? What's the benefit? Why would I talk about it?"
People already had mixed feelings about me. I rode this thin line where some liked me, while others thought I was obnoxious. I often heard, "Oh, he's so arrogant." I figured if I talked about my struggles, people would think I just wanted sympathy or wanted them to like me.
So, I never spoke about it—until one day in 2009. We had a hockey player named Stéphane Richer as a guest on Off the Record. I had read that he battled depression throughout his hockey career, and I thought, "That'll make an interesting question." I wasn’t planning to share anything personal.
I asked him, "Stéphane, would it be okay if I asked you about how you're doing with depression and how it affected your life throughout your career?" He said, "I don't really like to talk about it. It’s painful."
I responded, "I’m glad I asked, but if I talk about my experience, would that help?"
He asked, "What would you talk about?"
I told him, and he said, "Let's do it."
We went on air and talked for maybe 90 seconds. The reaction we got shocked me to my core and changed the course of my life. I realized that something totally easy for me—something I never hesitated to share—could make a real difference. I was never afraid of what people would think. I just said, "I battle depression and anxiety," without embarrassment or shame. And that alone could change someone’s life.
Ashish Kothari: That’s so powerful.
Friends, think about this—we live in such a paradoxical world. On one hand, if someone has the slightest physical ailment, like a sore back or a stubbed toe, they’ll talk about it freely. If you ask, "How are you?" they’ll say, "Oh, my back is hurting."
Even when we face serious illnesses, like cancer, we’re comfortable sharing. We had Jen Fisher, the Chief Well-Being Officer for Deloitte, on our podcast. When she was diagnosed with cancer, she openly told people, "I have cancer." She didn’t keep it hidden. She was also comfortable taking time off to go through treatment and heal.
But when it comes to anxiety or depression, we act as if something is wrong with us. We don’t want to share. It’s so easy to talk about physical ailments—sometimes we even complain about them too much. Yet, when we suffer mentally, we stay silent.
This is a huge issue, not just in the U.S. and India, but worldwide. I’m so grateful that you used your platform to open up this dialogue.
I’m curious, Michael—what did that moment enable for you? After that episode, you said there was a huge outpouring of responses. What happened next?
Michael Landsberg: It was such a shock that it took me a while to process. I was asked to give a talk at a hospital in Toronto. There was a group of young people fundraising for Mount Sinai Hospital, a big teaching hospital, and they asked me to speak.
I had never given a talk before, but I’m a professional talker. Being on stage and talking about this was in no way intimidating—it was a joy for me. That was kind of the start.
Then, my psychiatrist and a friend of mine produced a documentary for one of the Canadian television networks called Darkness and Hope: Depression, Sports, and Me. I interviewed different athletes about their mental health struggles, which was totally unique at the time. I also shared my own story and discussed their experiences in the context of mine.
After that, my psychiatrist asked if I would speak to a group of psychiatrists at the University of Toronto. I said, "Yeah, I would love to." So, I went down at lunch, and there were 50 psychiatrists in the room.
Imagine this—I asked, “How many of you have battled mental illness like I have? Depression, anxiety, or any of the other common but serious mental health challenges?” Not one person put up their hand.
You can’t have 50 people in a room and not statistically have at least a few who have struggled with mental illness. That was a lesson for me—there is a veil of silence that exists, and it has to be broken. I realized I could help break it because this is easy for me.
When I give talks, I often ask, “How many people here think I’m brave?” Most put up their hands. I tell them, “I know you didn’t have much choice—you don’t want to insult me by not raising your hand—but you also do think I’m brave. But I’m not."
Here’s the thing—if you don’t have fear about talking about something, then you can’t be courageous for talking about it. The way I’m wired, this is very easy for me. My mental illness has allowed me to put purpose to pain by speaking about it. It has turned the worst thing in my life into one of the best things in my life.
How amazing is that? So, when people praise me for doing this, I acknowledge its value, but I also recognize the personal value it brings me. I feel better about myself now than I did talking about sports on television all those years.
Ashish Kothari: Your reflection, Michael, is sparking a memory from a conversation I had two weeks ago.
What you described is taking your pain—your darkest moments—and deciding to give them meaning by talking about them, making it okay, and piercing the veil of silence.
I recently spoke with a woman in her seventies who has been sober for almost 50 years. She’s an incredible person—a coach, an author, and someone deeply committed to helping others.
She reached out to me through a program and said, “Ashish, we want to bring your Rewire program into Alcoholics Anonymous.”
She told me the reason was simple—many people in Alcoholics Anonymous don’t want to be known. They want to remain invisible. But imagine the power if they were given the tools to use their truth and personal stories—not with shame, but as a way to inspire others.
That’s exactly what you’re doing.
It made me think—there’s another parallel. I told her, “I don’t think the people in Alcoholics Anonymous are truly the anonymous alcoholics. The real anonymous group consists of the 60% of people who drink more than they should but haven’t yet admitted, ‘I’m an alcoholic. I need help.’”
We often use alcohol to numb depression, anxiety, or emotional pain. The same is true for mental health struggles. There’s the 20% who seek help but don’t talk about it, and then there’s the 60-70% who may struggle but won’t even acknowledge it because they think speaking up makes them weak.
Michael Landsberg: For me, I learned early on in this journey—from sharing publicly and having the platform to do so—that there are so many people out there who aren’t living their best lives.
They’re wasting time they’ll never get back, either because they don’t know what to do or, more often, because they don’t want to do it. They don’t want anyone to know. They know that help could help them, but they’re afraid.
I remember one of the first things I said to someone after I went public about my struggles. We were emailing back and forth, and they said, “I don’t know what to do. I’m ashamed. I’m embarrassed.”
I told them these words:
“You gotta fight for your happiness, because if you don’t, who will? Who can?”
That’s what’s at stake. It’s a fight.
You have to fight the internal voice in your head telling you, “Don’t let anyone know.” You have to fight to get the right treatment, to talk to people, to seek help. It’s a battle that can last years.
Many times, we try to treat depression, and the first treatment doesn’t work. The second doesn’t work. The third doesn’t work. But the fight has to continue.
For a lot of people, hearing someone else say, “My name is Michael Landsberg, I battle depression and anxiety, I’m on medication today, and I will be for the rest of my life. I have thought about suicide. Ask me about that tattoo. But I am not ashamed, embarrassed, or weak,” can be incredibly empowering.
They hear that and think, “Wow, that didn’t sound so bad when he said it. He doesn’t sound like a total loser. Maybe I can do it too.”
Ashish Kothari: I love that. Can you stand up and show that shirt again?
For those watching, I love those words—“Fight for your happiness.”
Nobody else is going to fight for it. And as you said, the first battle is with your own inner voice—the one that tells you, “If you say it, what will happen? You’ll look weak. You’ll be judged.”
Then, you have to fight to get help.
Then, you have to fight to change the circumstances or situations that are holding you back.
It is a fight. It’s not easy. That’s why courage is necessary. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be a big deal—people would just do it.
You can’t order happiness on Amazon. People try—which is why revenue is so high for things that promise happiness. But you can’t just buy it. There’s no easy button.
Michael Landsberg: You know, I love that you said that because one of the things I talk about in my speeches is hope. One of the symptoms of depression that I don’t think is officially listed in the DSM-5—the book that defines mental illnesses—is hopelessness.
It’s like in the NFL: if it’s not in the record book, it doesn’t count. But in reality, every person I’ve ever met with depression has experienced hopelessness. They think, I’m never getting better. This is going to be with me for the rest of my life. My life as I knew it is over.
That’s why you need to give people hope. That’s how you get them out of bed in the morning. That’s how you get them to take that first step—to fight for their happiness—by saying, It’s not hopeless. Just take this little bit of hope. Once they get that flicker of hope, I believe it becomes easier to get out of bed and start the fight.
Hope, to me, is everything.
Ashish Kothari: Absolutely. I couldn’t agree more. It’s interesting that hopelessness doesn’t show up as an official symptom. It does appear in burnout, where cynicism is one of the elements, but for depression, it’s strangely absent.
We had a happiness coach on our podcast about a year ago. I met him as part of the Gross Global Happiness Summit, where we were both speakers. His name is Dr. Alphonsus Obayuwana.
Back in the 1970s, Michael, he was a doctor treating patients, many of whom were dealing with suicide and depression. He realized exactly what you just said.
It’s crazy that we don’t talk about this more. He wrote a book, and his research—funded by the federal government—was actually on hope. He found that the common factor among many struggling individuals was that they had lost hope.
They believed there was no future. They thought, No matter what I do, I will never find happiness. My life will always be dark, rainy, and cold. They had completely lost the desire to live.
I don’t want to be that way.
Michael Landsberg: You express it really well.
I’m not saying every person who attempts suicide is hopeless, but almost everyone who does has given up hope. They believe their pain will never end, and they see no other way out.
For me, hope was what kept me alive. I’ll explain my tattoo in a second. But I had hope because I had been through it before. If I hadn’t—if I had been struggling for a decade, trying every treatment without success—I don’t think I would have made it.
That little flicker of hope is what people need. But you can’t give them false hope. People who reach that point have heard over and over again that there’s a way out besides suicide. They need to believe it’s possible.
Sometimes, I tell people who feel like they can’t go on, You have to hold on with blind faith. Maybe you don’t believe it, but statistically, the science says that if you persist and seek treatment, eventually you will feel better. You may not be cured, but you will get relief.
That’s the job—working with people to find out if they are truly hopeless. If they are, we have to find a way to give them hope.
Ashish Kothari: I love that, Mike. Tell me about your tattoo—what’s the story behind it?
Michael Landsberg: Yeah.
Back when I hosted Off the Record, we were covering the Grey Cup in Montreal. The Grey Cup is the Canadian football championship, and our show would travel to big events like that.
At that time, I had been going through a terrible year and a half. I had fallen deeper and deeper into depression. It felt like I was in a dark hole with no way out.
Part of it was related to my daughter’s chronic eye condition. When she was struggling, I became obsessed with her pain. It was all I could think about. I catastrophized everything. And when my anxiety is unrelenting and severe, it turns into depression.
So, I had fallen into a year-long depression by the time we were in Montreal. That’s where my tattoo comes in.
It says:
11 24 08 YUL MH 521 0400
November 24th, 2008
YUL is the Montreal airport code
Marriott Hotel Room 521
4 a.m.
That night, I was lying in bed, thinking, I’ve never truly understood suicide before, but now I do. I thought, I can’t live like this indefinitely. I can’t exist with this pain forever. Because I had nothing. For a year and a half, nothing had brought me joy. One of the symptoms of depression is the loss of the ability to experience joy.
At 4 a.m., I realized why people take their own lives. It’s not the only reason, but for me, it was this unbearable pain. But here’s the thing—I had been through depression four times before. I had been treated, gone off my meds, relapsed, and repeated that cycle. So, in that moment, I had a little bit of hope.
That tiny hope told me, Maybe I can get better. I have before.
Depression is an incredibly pessimistic illness. It’s a glass-half-empty illness. Even though my brain was telling me, If I go back on meds, they probably won’t work, that little flicker of hope kept me alive.
I know for a fact that if I didn’t have that hope, my life might have turned out very, very differently.
Ashish Kothari: I’m glad, my friend, that you are here and doing the work that you’re doing.
Depression can be very dark. From that darkness, very little can get through. Your brain turns against you, filling your mind with negative thoughts and shadows.
That’s why I believe if more people can light a candle and share that healing is possible, maybe—just maybe—some of that light will break through. Even in the darkest moments, like when you're lying awake at 4 a.m., just a flicker of hope can help you find your way through.
For those who haven’t experienced depression, it’s hard to understand. They don’t get it because they’ve never felt it.
Michael Landsberg: That’s true.
Those who have made it out of the darkness carry with them the potential medicine for someone who is feeling hopeless. They are living proof that hope can lead somewhere better.
People who have attempted suicide and survived—who have gone on to feel better, to have a productive life, to experience joy again—carry powerful stories. Imagine someone who, three years after feeling hopeless, is now taking their kids to Disney World, smiling, and laughing. That’s real. That’s tangible hope for someone else.
But even with that, even with those stories, sometimes it’s incredibly hard to crack through a hopeless brain. It’s not easy.
Ashish Kothari: Yes, and that’s why we need to spread these stories.
We have to help people see that recovery is possible. That’s exactly what you’ve done with First Step. Michael, I’d love for you to share with our listeners the philosophy behind First Step. What was your "why" behind creating it?
Michael Landsberg: A couple of years ago, I quit broadcasting because I had been on TV every day of my adult life since I was young. I loved what I did, but I wanted to do something different. Part of it was the need for a new challenge. No matter how much you love something, when you do it every day for years, it becomes less of a challenge.
I realized I had a unique opportunity. Broadcasting gave me a little notoriety, a little bit of fame. I could combine that with my willingness to talk openly about mental health.
So, I left broadcasting and started traveling, speaking about mental health. My daughter and I had already started a charity called Sick Not Weak. That name embodies our goal—to show people that a mental illness like depression is a sickness, not a weakness. Weakness is at the heart of the stigma, and we wanted to change that.
I had given 125 talks to corporations—only two in the U.S. because I have no recognition there—but I knew the message was universal.
After giving so many talks, I realized something: I had heard thousands of personal stories. I had learned more about what mental illness feels like—not just the symptoms listed in the DSM-5, but the lived experience of depression and anxiety.
So, I thought, Why don’t I take what I’ve learned and create something that can help people when I’m not there in person?
That’s how First Step was born.
What is First Step all about?
First Step is designed for people in the workplace—those who have access to benefits, Employee and Family Assistance Programs (EFAPs), and doctors, but who don’t use them.
The majority of Americans sit on their mental illness without getting help, even when resources are available. First Step is about helping them take that first step.
I wanted to create something that wasn’t just another dull, corporate mental health program. I had seen so many programs that were clinical, sanitized, and uninspiring. They didn’t connect with people.
So, I went to GreenShield, a Canadian insurance company, and said, I want to create a video series called First Step. I want to educate people about mental health from the inside out and change how they see mental illness. I want to make them look at their own mental health and ask, "Should I take that first step?"
I made one promise: It won’t suck.
Most mental health content out there is terrible—clinical, boring, text-heavy. People don’t relate to a PowerPoint slide that says, Depression is a serious illness.
People relate when you tell them:
Depression is when you do something you used to love, and now it brings you no joy.
Depression is when you’re doing a podcast with your friend Ashish, and you don’t believe you have anything to offer because depression has stolen your self-esteem.
That’s what people connect with.
So, we created First Step—six modules, three chapters per module, each about five minutes long. It’s now live on GreenShield’s customer website, reaching six to seven million people. Now, I’m looking to see who else wants to bring it to their teams.
Ashish Kothari: Michael, I think First Step is amazing.
I’ve watched some of the videos, and as I told you before the podcast, I’m excited to help bring this to as many companies as possible.
Here’s the issue: companies have EAPs, but many take a check-the-box approach. They think, We have a program, so we’re doing our job. But that’s not enough.
We need to destigmatize mental health. We need leaders to talk about it. We need them to share their own struggles so employees feel it’s okay to seek help.
Most mental health resources today are too clinical, too boring, too depressing. If you’re struggling with depression, you’re not going to sit through a dull, corporate video. Many existing programs bring you down further rather than lifting you up.
What makes First Step special is that it’s engaging, relatable, and hopeful. It doesn’t rely on clinical definitions. It shares personal experiences.
I believe this work will save lives. And there’s so much more we can do. There are versions of this we can create for different audiences.
Take India, for example. Mental health is a huge issue there. The McKinsey Health Institute did a global study on mental health and burnout across 30 countries. They looked at four key burnout symptoms:
1️⃣ Chronic fatigue
2️⃣ Cynicism toward work and life (Nothing I do matters)
3️⃣ A diminished sense of cognitive and physical ability
4️⃣ A lack of motivation
In the U.S., 16% of people reported experiencing all four symptoms, meaning they were at high risk of burnout.
Globally, the number was 22%.
Some countries were in the 30s.
And then there was India—at 59%.
Burnout is different from depression and anxiety, but the patterns are the same. Even with something so visible, so many people still don’t seek help.
That’s why work like yours, programs like First Step, and open conversations matter. If we can communicate about mental health in a way that actually connects with people, we can change lives. And that’s why I love what you’re doing.
Michael Landsberg: You know, my goal in a lot of ways is to crack the American market.
I don’t have the advantage of being recognized in the U.S. In Canada, people know me because I hosted a sports talk show every day for decades. If you're a sports fan in Canada, you know who I am—which isn’t necessarily a compliment. It’s just the nature of the job. You talk on TV, people recognize you.
That recognition is an advantage when spreading a message, but I don’t have that in the U.S. The only thing I have is the message, and I want to deliver it. I want to speak to American companies—not for the money, but to share what I’ve learned and expose more people to this conversation.
In Canada, I’ll sometimes walk into a room and hear, Oh, you’re the guy from Off the Record! That opens doors. I don’t have that advantage in the U.S., but I know that if I can get in front of people, I can make a difference.
Did you watch the Netflix documentary McMahon about Vince McMahon and WWE? They used clips from my show, Off the Record, where I interviewed him. Before I even watched it, people were messaging me, saying, Hey, you’re in this thing! It doesn’t mean much to me personally, but it’s an example of how recognition can open doors.
At the end of the day, though, recognition isn’t what changes lives—the message does. If I can stand in front of an audience, speak from the heart, and connect with people, I can make an impact. That’s what drives me.
I love this work.
People often say, Thanks for coming, after a talk, but they don’t realize—I get as much as I give. When I leave the room, I gain something.
I’ve somehow found a way to take the poison inside me and turn it into medicine for others. I feel incredibly blessed.
How strange is this? I feel incredibly blessed to have lived a life with mental illness.
Ashish Kothari: Absolutely.
There’s a beautiful passage in The Prophet by Khalil Gibran about joy and sorrow. I don’t have the exact words in front of me, but the idea is this:
Your capacity to experience joy is directly proportional to the depth of the sorrow that has carved into you.
Your experience of suffering has created a capacity within you—a deep connection, an empathy. It has allowed you to speak your truth with courage, which in turn helps others find the courage to speak theirs.
Michael Landsberg: No, not courage. I told you this, Ashish, and now you’re pissing me off. I told you—it doesn’t take courage for me to do this. To stand in front of an audience or look into a camera and talk about mental health—it takes nothing.
This isn’t me being humble. I don’t need people to come back and say, Oh yes, it does take courage. It’s just the truth.
There are things in my life that do scare me. I still have emetophobia. If I’m on a plane and there’s turbulence, and the person beside me looks like they might get sick, that takes courage for me to stay seated.
That’s courage. This? This is a joy. Every road in my life has led me here—to this conversation, to the creation of First Step, to giving talks about mental health.
All I’ve ever done professionally is talk. Even the arrogance that people perceived in me on TV—I get to use that now. Because when people see someone they assumed was arrogant say, I battle depression, it shocks them. It opens doors.
Ashish Kothari: It may not take courage for you, but you instill courage in others. You help them find the strength to speak their truth.
Michael Landsberg: Okay. I’m not pissed anymore.
Ashish Kothari: That’s okay. Anger and joy—these are emotions that come and go. But this conversation? This is about something deeper.
Michael, you’ve done so many talks and spoken to so many companies. Many companies acknowledge mental health—that’s why they invite you in the first place. But what do you think is the biggest barrier? Why do you think there is still such a big gap between talk and action?
Michael Landsberg: You used the word stigma before, and I’m loathe to use it because it’s so overused. I think we’ve become numb to it. It used to have impact, but now we hear it all the time—the stigma around mental health, the stigma around mental illness.
But I think the real issue isn’t just stigma—it’s self-stigma, which is the most damaging.
This idea that:
I’m really struggling. I don’t feel good.
I’m not the same person I was.
I have no joy in my life. I hate everything about what I do.
But I can’t share this with anyone because somehow, I brought this upon myself.
That’s why so many people feel ashamed to talk about it. Depression isn’t seen as a legitimate illness. It’s not like you can take a blood test or an X-ray and say, Here’s the proof—this is depression.
So people bury it. They fear sharing it. They’re unsure what it really is, unsure if they’re even entitled to help, and pretty sure that their struggle is a personal weakness.
That’s why we started Sick Not Weak. The idea of weakness is at the heart of the stigma.
But beyond self-stigma, there’s also fear:
What happens if I share?
Will I be seen differently?
Will it hurt my career?
Will my boss look at me differently?
For years, talking about mental illness was career suicide—a bad word. Saying, I need time off for depression could mean missing out on promotions, raises, or even job security.
That used to be true.
The tragedy is, people still believe it, even though it’s not true anymore.
Employers today don’t have access to your personal mental health information. If you use an Employee Assistance Program (EAP), it’s 100% confidential. If you see a psychologist and get reimbursed, your boss will never find out—it’s the law.
Yet, people still suffer in silence because they believe they’ll be found out.
So, what happens?
People stay quiet. They pretend they’re fine.
Sometimes, it takes a wake-up call—a metaphorical slap in the face—to make them realize they need help.
I often ask people:
"If you had to live the rest of your life feeling the way you do right now—this week, this month—would you be okay with that?"
If the answer is I’m not sure, then it’s time to talk to someone.
Nobody ever got hurt by seeking help and realizing they didn’t need it.
But ignoring it? That comes at a cost.
And if the answer is No, I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this, then you owe it to yourself—and to the people who care about you—to take that first step.
Being married to someone who is battling something but denying it is a tragedy for everyone involved.
You have to talk about it. You have to practice saying it out loud.
Even if it’s just, Today’s practice is: I battle depression.
Ashish Kothari: Yes.
I’ve spoken to so many companies, and they often say, That’s why we offer these programs. It’s up to the employees to take the first step.
So, Michael, you so eloquently highlighted the need for companies to do more to help employees break this veil of silence that exists—to enable them to seek help.
I’m sure you run into this often. Many companies will say:
"Well, we have the EAP program. We have posters that say ‘Mental Health Matters.’ Why do we need to do more?"
"What’s the business case for bringing something like First Step in? Why should we do more than what we’re already doing?"
What do you say to them?
Michael Landsberg: The business case is really easy to make now because of the number of studies showing the benefits of investing in mental health. Whether it’s awareness, programs, or initiatives—there is a return on investment for that. But the return could be even greater if companies embrace these programs and personalize them.
That’s what we try to do with First Step. It’s a statement that says:
"Hey, your employer actually cares about more than just providing a program because it sounds good. This is a dialogue starter. And to get real value out of it, leadership has to embrace it."
Management has to talk about it the way they want employees to talk about it.
If you want people to be open, leaders have to be open.
If you want employees to feel safe talking to their boss, leaders need to talk first.
If you want employees to help each other, leaders need to set the example.
When the CEO of a company stands up and says, Hey, not everyone has a personal mental health story. But almost everyone has a story about someone they care about, that creates real change.
That’s what leadership in mental health looks like.
For example, George Cope—the former CEO of Bell Media—was the one who created Bell Let’s Talk Day in Canada.
When he first asked me to be involved, I asked him, What’s your reason for doing this? He told me:
"When I was a kid, my mom would leave for three months at a time. No one ever told us why. It was a secret. We knew we weren’t supposed to talk about it. We didn’t know what was happening."
That’s what Bell Let’s Talk Day was about—creating dialogue. When a leader shares their experience—even if it’s not about their personal struggles but about someone they love—it makes it easier for everyone in the company to open up. That’s how you lead.
Leadership, when it comes to mental health, is being vulnerable. That’s the keyword. If you can show that, you can get other people to show it.
This is what I tell companies: If you want your employees to be vulnerable, practice what you preach. That’s one of the ways that you open doors.
Show real leadership.
Share real stories.
Create a culture where it’s safe to ask for help.
And this might sound like a sales pitch, but with First Step, it’s about making a statement. A statement that says: We care.
One of the things I’m doing now is shooting a custom video with the CEO before First Step launches in a company.
In the video, the CEO says:
"I’m going to go through the First Step course. There’s a certificate at the end, and I’m going to complete it. And I want you to complete it too."
That’s how you get people to engage.
Ashish Kothari: Yeah. And I would actually even further amplify that, Michael, just in the spirit of our conversation. Because look, every leader today in a company has a lot of priorities. So why give this one priority? Why really lean in?
I fundamentally believe that if you want to make the most of it—your videos are amazing, they’re beautiful, they’re touching—but they will not be enough. They will not be enough unless, as you said, it’s personalized.
So yeah, starting with a video of a CEO is fantastic. The CEO says, This is important. But the CEO also says, That is important, and that is important, and that is important—so how do you make this really stand out?
Imagine, friends, if you really want to get the most out of it. Imagine if, as you launch the program, you also create space around it. Imagine town halls where every leader meets with their team, and you cascade this message through the organization.
"We’re going to talk about it. We’re going to share our stories—stories of ourselves or someone we know who has struggled. We’re going to be vulnerable about our lowest moments."
And it doesn’t just have to be about depression. It can be about a whole range of things—stress, anxiety, burnout. Think about mental well-being and mental illness as a continuum.
Now, you might be listening and thinking, Wow, Ashish, there are so many things to care about. Why should I invest in this?
"I’ve already given the resources. There are so many other things I should be doing—climate initiatives, social causes."
But if you can’t see a selfless reason for this, then here’s a selfish one. If you do this, here’s what you unlock:
Today, we spend more on people than machines. That’s the reality. And for sure, this is true for those battling depression. You’re not getting the best out of them. You may not even realize it, but even if they are physically present—forget absenteeism—they are not at their best.
They’re only giving you 20 to 30 percent of their fullest potential. But here’s the bigger business case:
You might think that only 5, 10, or 20 percent of employees are struggling with depression or severe mental illness. But what about the other 60 percent? The ones who, if given a safe space, would open up? They could benefit from talking about their struggles, being vulnerable, and sharing when their mental health is off balance.
That’s the real business case—you’re not just helping the struggling 5 percent, you’re unlocking the full potential of everyone. That’s why this has to go beyond just telling people, Hey, this is important. Watch this video.
We have to lead from the front. There are massive gains for everyone—employees, leaders, and the business itself.
Imagine if someone struggling with depression is working in customer service. They’re your frontline, dealing with customers. Imagine if they’re working on a production line, and they’re just not fully there.
There’s a high risk of errors—a faulty product, a mistake that could cost lives. So, we need to support people—not just on one end of the spectrum, but across the board.
Michael Landsberg: You know Deloitte, right? Deloitte is a worldwide powerhouse in accounting, which is their roots, but also in consulting and so many different areas. They launched a study on mental health in the workplace, and I was just looking at it 10 minutes before we went on air—pulling quotes from it.
Every single conclusion they reached was like a selling point for First Step. Everything they said about:
The responsibility of the company
The payoff for investing in mental health
The responsibility of the employee
All of it pointed to the same thing—the kind of program that can start dialogue, help people feel better about themselves, and open doors.
It was like, Oh my gosh, why didn’t I see this before?
And one of the things they also talked about was return on investment—that for every $1 spent on mental health, in the first year, companies make back $1.66. And that’s actually lower than what other studies have shown!
So, that’s the selfish reason to do it—it’s good for business.
Ashish Kothari: Yeah, look—two years ago, I decided to leave McKinsey. By the way, McKinsey Health Institute did a very similar study, as did BCG, Thrive Global, Oxford—so many studies pointing to the same conclusions.
Two years ago, I left McKinsey with a mission to democratize flourishing—to help companies and individuals make happiness and flourishing their competitive edge.
Michael, thank you for the work you’re doing, because First Step is exactly that—the first step toward that vision.
For those in the middle, this program is great. But for those who are struggling—unless we help them take that first step to get help, flourishing is just an abstract concept. For them, it’s not about flourishing. It’s about surviving.
So, I’m deeply grateful—for our friendship, for your work, for everything you’re doing. And I’m really excited to bring your message and your work to all of my clients. To all the listeners, we’ll put Michael’s contact details in the show notes.
Please reach out. This isn’t just about awareness—it’s about action. Look, especially in today’s world—more people are struggling than ever.
So, Michael, thank you. I’m grateful for your work, for your presence on this show, and most of all, to call you my friend.
Michael Landsberg: Right back at you. Thank you for the chance to do what we just did. It brings me incredible joy to be able to do this. And my last words to you—let me count them—four words, okay?
You ready? Fight for your happiness. If you don’t, who will?
Ashish Kothari: No one else will. Thank you, my friend.
Michael Landsberg: Thank you for those words. It's equally exciting for me. I say this whenever I get in front of an audience, and I preface it by saying, "You're not going to believe this. You're going to think he's just saying that because he wants to get it over with."
But I truly mean it—every chance I get to talk about mental health, my own experience, and share it to maybe make a difference in someone's life is really an amazing experience for me. So, thank you for giving me the chance.
Ashish Kothari: For those who don't know you, Michael is one of Canada's loudest voices in pushing for mental health awareness. It all started with you sharing your own struggle with anxiety and depression on your show, Off the Record.
Can you take us back to that moment? What made you decide to speak so openly about something that so many people keep hidden? Mental health struggles are often reserved for the therapist’s office or not talked about at all. People don’t want to discuss it.
Michael Landsberg: No, they don’t. And I had no idea that was the case.
I spent a lifetime dealing with anxiety, including something called emetophobia, which I later found out I'm not the only person on the planet to experience—a fear of throwing up, a fear of being around someone who throws up. I've given 150 talks, and in at least half of them, someone has said, "Me too."
But I had no idea there was a stigma around talking about it. I can't believe I was so naive, but I never spoke about anxiety or depression. I had been hosting Off the Record for about a decade at that point, and I had never shared my experiences with severe depression or anxiety because I thought, "Who would care? What's the benefit? Why would I talk about it?"
People already had mixed feelings about me. I rode this thin line where some liked me, while others thought I was obnoxious. I often heard, "Oh, he's so arrogant." I figured if I talked about my struggles, people would think I just wanted sympathy or wanted them to like me.
So, I never spoke about it—until one day in 2009. We had a hockey player named Stéphane Richer as a guest on Off the Record. I had read that he battled depression throughout his hockey career, and I thought, "That'll make an interesting question." I wasn’t planning to share anything personal.
I asked him, "Stéphane, would it be okay if I asked you about how you're doing with depression and how it affected your life throughout your career?" He said, "I don't really like to talk about it. It’s painful."
I responded, "I’m glad I asked, but if I talk about my experience, would that help?"
He asked, "What would you talk about?"
I told him, and he said, "Let's do it."
We went on air and talked for maybe 90 seconds. The reaction we got shocked me to my core and changed the course of my life. I realized that something totally easy for me—something I never hesitated to share—could make a real difference. I was never afraid of what people would think. I just said, "I battle depression and anxiety," without embarrassment or shame. And that alone could change someone’s life.
Ashish Kothari: That’s so powerful.
Friends, think about this—we live in such a paradoxical world. On one hand, if someone has the slightest physical ailment, like a sore back or a stubbed toe, they’ll talk about it freely. If you ask, "How are you?" they’ll say, "Oh, my back is hurting."
Even when we face serious illnesses, like cancer, we’re comfortable sharing. We had Jen Fisher, the Chief Well-Being Officer for Deloitte, on our podcast. When she was diagnosed with cancer, she openly told people, "I have cancer." She didn’t keep it hidden. She was also comfortable taking time off to go through treatment and heal.
But when it comes to anxiety or depression, we act as if something is wrong with us. We don’t want to share. It’s so easy to talk about physical ailments—sometimes we even complain about them too much. Yet, when we suffer mentally, we stay silent.
This is a huge issue, not just in the U.S. and India, but worldwide. I’m so grateful that you used your platform to open up this dialogue.
I’m curious, Michael—what did that moment enable for you? After that episode, you said there was a huge outpouring of responses. What happened next?
Michael Landsberg: It was such a shock that it took me a while to process. I was asked to give a talk at a hospital in Toronto. There was a group of young people fundraising for Mount Sinai Hospital, a big teaching hospital, and they asked me to speak.
I had never given a talk before, but I’m a professional talker. Being on stage and talking about this was in no way intimidating—it was a joy for me. That was kind of the start.
Then, my psychiatrist and a friend of mine produced a documentary for one of the Canadian television networks called Darkness and Hope: Depression, Sports, and Me. I interviewed different athletes about their mental health struggles, which was totally unique at the time. I also shared my own story and discussed their experiences in the context of mine.
After that, my psychiatrist asked if I would speak to a group of psychiatrists at the University of Toronto. I said, "Yeah, I would love to." So, I went down at lunch, and there were 50 psychiatrists in the room.
Imagine this—I asked, “How many of you have battled mental illness like I have? Depression, anxiety, or any of the other common but serious mental health challenges?” Not one person put up their hand.
You can’t have 50 people in a room and not statistically have at least a few who have struggled with mental illness. That was a lesson for me—there is a veil of silence that exists, and it has to be broken. I realized I could help break it because this is easy for me.
When I give talks, I often ask, “How many people here think I’m brave?” Most put up their hands. I tell them, “I know you didn’t have much choice—you don’t want to insult me by not raising your hand—but you also do think I’m brave. But I’m not."
Here’s the thing—if you don’t have fear about talking about something, then you can’t be courageous for talking about it. The way I’m wired, this is very easy for me. My mental illness has allowed me to put purpose to pain by speaking about it. It has turned the worst thing in my life into one of the best things in my life.
How amazing is that? So, when people praise me for doing this, I acknowledge its value, but I also recognize the personal value it brings me. I feel better about myself now than I did talking about sports on television all those years.
Ashish Kothari: Your reflection, Michael, is sparking a memory from a conversation I had two weeks ago.
What you described is taking your pain—your darkest moments—and deciding to give them meaning by talking about them, making it okay, and piercing the veil of silence.
I recently spoke with a woman in her seventies who has been sober for almost 50 years. She’s an incredible person—a coach, an author, and someone deeply committed to helping others.
She reached out to me through a program and said, “Ashish, we want to bring your Rewire program into Alcoholics Anonymous.”
She told me the reason was simple—many people in Alcoholics Anonymous don’t want to be known. They want to remain invisible. But imagine the power if they were given the tools to use their truth and personal stories—not with shame, but as a way to inspire others.
That’s exactly what you’re doing.
It made me think—there’s another parallel. I told her, “I don’t think the people in Alcoholics Anonymous are truly the anonymous alcoholics. The real anonymous group consists of the 60% of people who drink more than they should but haven’t yet admitted, ‘I’m an alcoholic. I need help.’”
We often use alcohol to numb depression, anxiety, or emotional pain. The same is true for mental health struggles. There’s the 20% who seek help but don’t talk about it, and then there’s the 60-70% who may struggle but won’t even acknowledge it because they think speaking up makes them weak.
Michael Landsberg: For me, I learned early on in this journey—from sharing publicly and having the platform to do so—that there are so many people out there who aren’t living their best lives.
They’re wasting time they’ll never get back, either because they don’t know what to do or, more often, because they don’t want to do it. They don’t want anyone to know. They know that help could help them, but they’re afraid.
I remember one of the first things I said to someone after I went public about my struggles. We were emailing back and forth, and they said, “I don’t know what to do. I’m ashamed. I’m embarrassed.”
I told them these words:
“You gotta fight for your happiness, because if you don’t, who will? Who can?”
That’s what’s at stake. It’s a fight.
You have to fight the internal voice in your head telling you, “Don’t let anyone know.” You have to fight to get the right treatment, to talk to people, to seek help. It’s a battle that can last years.
Many times, we try to treat depression, and the first treatment doesn’t work. The second doesn’t work. The third doesn’t work. But the fight has to continue.
For a lot of people, hearing someone else say, “My name is Michael Landsberg, I battle depression and anxiety, I’m on medication today, and I will be for the rest of my life. I have thought about suicide. Ask me about that tattoo. But I am not ashamed, embarrassed, or weak,” can be incredibly empowering.
They hear that and think, “Wow, that didn’t sound so bad when he said it. He doesn’t sound like a total loser. Maybe I can do it too.”
Ashish Kothari: I love that. Can you stand up and show that shirt again?
For those watching, I love those words—“Fight for your happiness.”
Nobody else is going to fight for it. And as you said, the first battle is with your own inner voice—the one that tells you, “If you say it, what will happen? You’ll look weak. You’ll be judged.”
Then, you have to fight to get help.
Then, you have to fight to change the circumstances or situations that are holding you back.
It is a fight. It’s not easy. That’s why courage is necessary. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be a big deal—people would just do it.
You can’t order happiness on Amazon. People try—which is why revenue is so high for things that promise happiness. But you can’t just buy it. There’s no easy button.
Michael Landsberg: You know, I love that you said that because one of the things I talk about in my speeches is hope. One of the symptoms of depression that I don’t think is officially listed in the DSM-5—the book that defines mental illnesses—is hopelessness.
It’s like in the NFL: if it’s not in the record book, it doesn’t count. But in reality, every person I’ve ever met with depression has experienced hopelessness. They think, I’m never getting better. This is going to be with me for the rest of my life. My life as I knew it is over.
That’s why you need to give people hope. That’s how you get them out of bed in the morning. That’s how you get them to take that first step—to fight for their happiness—by saying, It’s not hopeless. Just take this little bit of hope. Once they get that flicker of hope, I believe it becomes easier to get out of bed and start the fight.
Hope, to me, is everything.
Ashish Kothari: Absolutely. I couldn’t agree more. It’s interesting that hopelessness doesn’t show up as an official symptom. It does appear in burnout, where cynicism is one of the elements, but for depression, it’s strangely absent.
We had a happiness coach on our podcast about a year ago. I met him as part of the Gross Global Happiness Summit, where we were both speakers. His name is Dr. Alphonsus Obayuwana.
Back in the 1970s, Michael, he was a doctor treating patients, many of whom were dealing with suicide and depression. He realized exactly what you just said.
It’s crazy that we don’t talk about this more. He wrote a book, and his research—funded by the federal government—was actually on hope. He found that the common factor among many struggling individuals was that they had lost hope.
They believed there was no future. They thought, No matter what I do, I will never find happiness. My life will always be dark, rainy, and cold. They had completely lost the desire to live.
I don’t want to be that way.
Michael Landsberg: You express it really well.
I’m not saying every person who attempts suicide is hopeless, but almost everyone who does has given up hope. They believe their pain will never end, and they see no other way out.
For me, hope was what kept me alive. I’ll explain my tattoo in a second. But I had hope because I had been through it before. If I hadn’t—if I had been struggling for a decade, trying every treatment without success—I don’t think I would have made it.
That little flicker of hope is what people need. But you can’t give them false hope. People who reach that point have heard over and over again that there’s a way out besides suicide. They need to believe it’s possible.
Sometimes, I tell people who feel like they can’t go on, You have to hold on with blind faith. Maybe you don’t believe it, but statistically, the science says that if you persist and seek treatment, eventually you will feel better. You may not be cured, but you will get relief.
That’s the job—working with people to find out if they are truly hopeless. If they are, we have to find a way to give them hope.
Ashish Kothari: I love that, Mike. Tell me about your tattoo—what’s the story behind it?
Michael Landsberg: Yeah.
Back when I hosted Off the Record, we were covering the Grey Cup in Montreal. The Grey Cup is the Canadian football championship, and our show would travel to big events like that.
At that time, I had been going through a terrible year and a half. I had fallen deeper and deeper into depression. It felt like I was in a dark hole with no way out.
Part of it was related to my daughter’s chronic eye condition. When she was struggling, I became obsessed with her pain. It was all I could think about. I catastrophized everything. And when my anxiety is unrelenting and severe, it turns into depression.
So, I had fallen into a year-long depression by the time we were in Montreal. That’s where my tattoo comes in.
It says:
11 24 08 YUL MH 521 0400
November 24th, 2008
YUL is the Montreal airport code
Marriott Hotel Room 521
4 a.m.
That night, I was lying in bed, thinking, I’ve never truly understood suicide before, but now I do. I thought, I can’t live like this indefinitely. I can’t exist with this pain forever. Because I had nothing. For a year and a half, nothing had brought me joy. One of the symptoms of depression is the loss of the ability to experience joy.
At 4 a.m., I realized why people take their own lives. It’s not the only reason, but for me, it was this unbearable pain. But here’s the thing—I had been through depression four times before. I had been treated, gone off my meds, relapsed, and repeated that cycle. So, in that moment, I had a little bit of hope.
That tiny hope told me, Maybe I can get better. I have before.
Depression is an incredibly pessimistic illness. It’s a glass-half-empty illness. Even though my brain was telling me, If I go back on meds, they probably won’t work, that little flicker of hope kept me alive.
I know for a fact that if I didn’t have that hope, my life might have turned out very, very differently.
Ashish Kothari: I’m glad, my friend, that you are here and doing the work that you’re doing.
Depression can be very dark. From that darkness, very little can get through. Your brain turns against you, filling your mind with negative thoughts and shadows.
That’s why I believe if more people can light a candle and share that healing is possible, maybe—just maybe—some of that light will break through. Even in the darkest moments, like when you're lying awake at 4 a.m., just a flicker of hope can help you find your way through.
For those who haven’t experienced depression, it’s hard to understand. They don’t get it because they’ve never felt it.
Michael Landsberg: That’s true.
Those who have made it out of the darkness carry with them the potential medicine for someone who is feeling hopeless. They are living proof that hope can lead somewhere better.
People who have attempted suicide and survived—who have gone on to feel better, to have a productive life, to experience joy again—carry powerful stories. Imagine someone who, three years after feeling hopeless, is now taking their kids to Disney World, smiling, and laughing. That’s real. That’s tangible hope for someone else.
But even with that, even with those stories, sometimes it’s incredibly hard to crack through a hopeless brain. It’s not easy.
Ashish Kothari: Yes, and that’s why we need to spread these stories.
We have to help people see that recovery is possible. That’s exactly what you’ve done with First Step. Michael, I’d love for you to share with our listeners the philosophy behind First Step. What was your "why" behind creating it?
Michael Landsberg: A couple of years ago, I quit broadcasting because I had been on TV every day of my adult life since I was young. I loved what I did, but I wanted to do something different. Part of it was the need for a new challenge. No matter how much you love something, when you do it every day for years, it becomes less of a challenge.
I realized I had a unique opportunity. Broadcasting gave me a little notoriety, a little bit of fame. I could combine that with my willingness to talk openly about mental health.
So, I left broadcasting and started traveling, speaking about mental health. My daughter and I had already started a charity called Sick Not Weak. That name embodies our goal—to show people that a mental illness like depression is a sickness, not a weakness. Weakness is at the heart of the stigma, and we wanted to change that.
I had given 125 talks to corporations—only two in the U.S. because I have no recognition there—but I knew the message was universal.
After giving so many talks, I realized something: I had heard thousands of personal stories. I had learned more about what mental illness feels like—not just the symptoms listed in the DSM-5, but the lived experience of depression and anxiety.
So, I thought, Why don’t I take what I’ve learned and create something that can help people when I’m not there in person?
That’s how First Step was born.
What is First Step all about?
First Step is designed for people in the workplace—those who have access to benefits, Employee and Family Assistance Programs (EFAPs), and doctors, but who don’t use them.
The majority of Americans sit on their mental illness without getting help, even when resources are available. First Step is about helping them take that first step.
I wanted to create something that wasn’t just another dull, corporate mental health program. I had seen so many programs that were clinical, sanitized, and uninspiring. They didn’t connect with people.
So, I went to GreenShield, a Canadian insurance company, and said, I want to create a video series called First Step. I want to educate people about mental health from the inside out and change how they see mental illness. I want to make them look at their own mental health and ask, "Should I take that first step?"
I made one promise: It won’t suck.
Most mental health content out there is terrible—clinical, boring, text-heavy. People don’t relate to a PowerPoint slide that says, Depression is a serious illness.
People relate when you tell them:
Depression is when you do something you used to love, and now it brings you no joy.
Depression is when you’re doing a podcast with your friend Ashish, and you don’t believe you have anything to offer because depression has stolen your self-esteem.
That’s what people connect with.
So, we created First Step—six modules, three chapters per module, each about five minutes long. It’s now live on GreenShield’s customer website, reaching six to seven million people. Now, I’m looking to see who else wants to bring it to their teams.
Ashish Kothari: Michael, I think First Step is amazing.
I’ve watched some of the videos, and as I told you before the podcast, I’m excited to help bring this to as many companies as possible.
Here’s the issue: companies have EAPs, but many take a check-the-box approach. They think, We have a program, so we’re doing our job. But that’s not enough.
We need to destigmatize mental health. We need leaders to talk about it. We need them to share their own struggles so employees feel it’s okay to seek help.
Most mental health resources today are too clinical, too boring, too depressing. If you’re struggling with depression, you’re not going to sit through a dull, corporate video. Many existing programs bring you down further rather than lifting you up.
What makes First Step special is that it’s engaging, relatable, and hopeful. It doesn’t rely on clinical definitions. It shares personal experiences.
I believe this work will save lives. And there’s so much more we can do. There are versions of this we can create for different audiences.
Take India, for example. Mental health is a huge issue there. The McKinsey Health Institute did a global study on mental health and burnout across 30 countries. They looked at four key burnout symptoms:
1️⃣ Chronic fatigue
2️⃣ Cynicism toward work and life (Nothing I do matters)
3️⃣ A diminished sense of cognitive and physical ability
4️⃣ A lack of motivation
In the U.S., 16% of people reported experiencing all four symptoms, meaning they were at high risk of burnout.
Globally, the number was 22%.
Some countries were in the 30s.
And then there was India—at 59%.
Burnout is different from depression and anxiety, but the patterns are the same. Even with something so visible, so many people still don’t seek help.
That’s why work like yours, programs like First Step, and open conversations matter. If we can communicate about mental health in a way that actually connects with people, we can change lives. And that’s why I love what you’re doing.
Michael Landsberg: You know, my goal in a lot of ways is to crack the American market.
I don’t have the advantage of being recognized in the U.S. In Canada, people know me because I hosted a sports talk show every day for decades. If you're a sports fan in Canada, you know who I am—which isn’t necessarily a compliment. It’s just the nature of the job. You talk on TV, people recognize you.
That recognition is an advantage when spreading a message, but I don’t have that in the U.S. The only thing I have is the message, and I want to deliver it. I want to speak to American companies—not for the money, but to share what I’ve learned and expose more people to this conversation.
In Canada, I’ll sometimes walk into a room and hear, Oh, you’re the guy from Off the Record! That opens doors. I don’t have that advantage in the U.S., but I know that if I can get in front of people, I can make a difference.
Did you watch the Netflix documentary McMahon about Vince McMahon and WWE? They used clips from my show, Off the Record, where I interviewed him. Before I even watched it, people were messaging me, saying, Hey, you’re in this thing! It doesn’t mean much to me personally, but it’s an example of how recognition can open doors.
At the end of the day, though, recognition isn’t what changes lives—the message does. If I can stand in front of an audience, speak from the heart, and connect with people, I can make an impact. That’s what drives me.
I love this work.
People often say, Thanks for coming, after a talk, but they don’t realize—I get as much as I give. When I leave the room, I gain something.
I’ve somehow found a way to take the poison inside me and turn it into medicine for others. I feel incredibly blessed.
How strange is this? I feel incredibly blessed to have lived a life with mental illness.
Ashish Kothari: Absolutely.
There’s a beautiful passage in The Prophet by Khalil Gibran about joy and sorrow. I don’t have the exact words in front of me, but the idea is this:
Your capacity to experience joy is directly proportional to the depth of the sorrow that has carved into you.
Your experience of suffering has created a capacity within you—a deep connection, an empathy. It has allowed you to speak your truth with courage, which in turn helps others find the courage to speak theirs.
Michael Landsberg: No, not courage. I told you this, Ashish, and now you’re pissing me off. I told you—it doesn’t take courage for me to do this. To stand in front of an audience or look into a camera and talk about mental health—it takes nothing.
This isn’t me being humble. I don’t need people to come back and say, Oh yes, it does take courage. It’s just the truth.
There are things in my life that do scare me. I still have emetophobia. If I’m on a plane and there’s turbulence, and the person beside me looks like they might get sick, that takes courage for me to stay seated.
That’s courage. This? This is a joy. Every road in my life has led me here—to this conversation, to the creation of First Step, to giving talks about mental health.
All I’ve ever done professionally is talk. Even the arrogance that people perceived in me on TV—I get to use that now. Because when people see someone they assumed was arrogant say, I battle depression, it shocks them. It opens doors.
Ashish Kothari: It may not take courage for you, but you instill courage in others. You help them find the strength to speak their truth.
Michael Landsberg: Okay. I’m not pissed anymore.
Ashish Kothari: That’s okay. Anger and joy—these are emotions that come and go. But this conversation? This is about something deeper.
Michael, you’ve done so many talks and spoken to so many companies. Many companies acknowledge mental health—that’s why they invite you in the first place. But what do you think is the biggest barrier? Why do you think there is still such a big gap between talk and action?
Michael Landsberg: You used the word stigma before, and I’m loathe to use it because it’s so overused. I think we’ve become numb to it. It used to have impact, but now we hear it all the time—the stigma around mental health, the stigma around mental illness.
But I think the real issue isn’t just stigma—it’s self-stigma, which is the most damaging.
This idea that:
I’m really struggling. I don’t feel good.
I’m not the same person I was.
I have no joy in my life. I hate everything about what I do.
But I can’t share this with anyone because somehow, I brought this upon myself.
That’s why so many people feel ashamed to talk about it. Depression isn’t seen as a legitimate illness. It’s not like you can take a blood test or an X-ray and say, Here’s the proof—this is depression.
So people bury it. They fear sharing it. They’re unsure what it really is, unsure if they’re even entitled to help, and pretty sure that their struggle is a personal weakness.
That’s why we started Sick Not Weak. The idea of weakness is at the heart of the stigma.
But beyond self-stigma, there’s also fear:
What happens if I share?
Will I be seen differently?
Will it hurt my career?
Will my boss look at me differently?
For years, talking about mental illness was career suicide—a bad word. Saying, I need time off for depression could mean missing out on promotions, raises, or even job security.
That used to be true.
The tragedy is, people still believe it, even though it’s not true anymore.
Employers today don’t have access to your personal mental health information. If you use an Employee Assistance Program (EAP), it’s 100% confidential. If you see a psychologist and get reimbursed, your boss will never find out—it’s the law.
Yet, people still suffer in silence because they believe they’ll be found out.
So, what happens?
People stay quiet. They pretend they’re fine.
Sometimes, it takes a wake-up call—a metaphorical slap in the face—to make them realize they need help.
I often ask people:
"If you had to live the rest of your life feeling the way you do right now—this week, this month—would you be okay with that?"
If the answer is I’m not sure, then it’s time to talk to someone.
Nobody ever got hurt by seeking help and realizing they didn’t need it.
But ignoring it? That comes at a cost.
And if the answer is No, I don’t want to live the rest of my life like this, then you owe it to yourself—and to the people who care about you—to take that first step.
Being married to someone who is battling something but denying it is a tragedy for everyone involved.
You have to talk about it. You have to practice saying it out loud.
Even if it’s just, Today’s practice is: I battle depression.
Ashish Kothari: Yes.
I’ve spoken to so many companies, and they often say, That’s why we offer these programs. It’s up to the employees to take the first step.
So, Michael, you so eloquently highlighted the need for companies to do more to help employees break this veil of silence that exists—to enable them to seek help.
I’m sure you run into this often. Many companies will say:
"Well, we have the EAP program. We have posters that say ‘Mental Health Matters.’ Why do we need to do more?"
"What’s the business case for bringing something like First Step in? Why should we do more than what we’re already doing?"
What do you say to them?
Michael Landsberg: The business case is really easy to make now because of the number of studies showing the benefits of investing in mental health. Whether it’s awareness, programs, or initiatives—there is a return on investment for that. But the return could be even greater if companies embrace these programs and personalize them.
That’s what we try to do with First Step. It’s a statement that says:
"Hey, your employer actually cares about more than just providing a program because it sounds good. This is a dialogue starter. And to get real value out of it, leadership has to embrace it."
Management has to talk about it the way they want employees to talk about it.
If you want people to be open, leaders have to be open.
If you want employees to feel safe talking to their boss, leaders need to talk first.
If you want employees to help each other, leaders need to set the example.
When the CEO of a company stands up and says, Hey, not everyone has a personal mental health story. But almost everyone has a story about someone they care about, that creates real change.
That’s what leadership in mental health looks like.
For example, George Cope—the former CEO of Bell Media—was the one who created Bell Let’s Talk Day in Canada.
When he first asked me to be involved, I asked him, What’s your reason for doing this? He told me:
"When I was a kid, my mom would leave for three months at a time. No one ever told us why. It was a secret. We knew we weren’t supposed to talk about it. We didn’t know what was happening."
That’s what Bell Let’s Talk Day was about—creating dialogue. When a leader shares their experience—even if it’s not about their personal struggles but about someone they love—it makes it easier for everyone in the company to open up. That’s how you lead.
Leadership, when it comes to mental health, is being vulnerable. That’s the keyword. If you can show that, you can get other people to show it.
This is what I tell companies: If you want your employees to be vulnerable, practice what you preach. That’s one of the ways that you open doors.
Show real leadership.
Share real stories.
Create a culture where it’s safe to ask for help.
And this might sound like a sales pitch, but with First Step, it’s about making a statement. A statement that says: We care.
One of the things I’m doing now is shooting a custom video with the CEO before First Step launches in a company.
In the video, the CEO says:
"I’m going to go through the First Step course. There’s a certificate at the end, and I’m going to complete it. And I want you to complete it too."
That’s how you get people to engage.
Ashish Kothari: Yeah. And I would actually even further amplify that, Michael, just in the spirit of our conversation. Because look, every leader today in a company has a lot of priorities. So why give this one priority? Why really lean in?
I fundamentally believe that if you want to make the most of it—your videos are amazing, they’re beautiful, they’re touching—but they will not be enough. They will not be enough unless, as you said, it’s personalized.
So yeah, starting with a video of a CEO is fantastic. The CEO says, This is important. But the CEO also says, That is important, and that is important, and that is important—so how do you make this really stand out?
Imagine, friends, if you really want to get the most out of it. Imagine if, as you launch the program, you also create space around it. Imagine town halls where every leader meets with their team, and you cascade this message through the organization.
"We’re going to talk about it. We’re going to share our stories—stories of ourselves or someone we know who has struggled. We’re going to be vulnerable about our lowest moments."
And it doesn’t just have to be about depression. It can be about a whole range of things—stress, anxiety, burnout. Think about mental well-being and mental illness as a continuum.
Now, you might be listening and thinking, Wow, Ashish, there are so many things to care about. Why should I invest in this?
"I’ve already given the resources. There are so many other things I should be doing—climate initiatives, social causes."
But if you can’t see a selfless reason for this, then here’s a selfish one. If you do this, here’s what you unlock:
Today, we spend more on people than machines. That’s the reality. And for sure, this is true for those battling depression. You’re not getting the best out of them. You may not even realize it, but even if they are physically present—forget absenteeism—they are not at their best.
They’re only giving you 20 to 30 percent of their fullest potential. But here’s the bigger business case:
You might think that only 5, 10, or 20 percent of employees are struggling with depression or severe mental illness. But what about the other 60 percent? The ones who, if given a safe space, would open up? They could benefit from talking about their struggles, being vulnerable, and sharing when their mental health is off balance.
That’s the real business case—you’re not just helping the struggling 5 percent, you’re unlocking the full potential of everyone. That’s why this has to go beyond just telling people, Hey, this is important. Watch this video.
We have to lead from the front. There are massive gains for everyone—employees, leaders, and the business itself.
Imagine if someone struggling with depression is working in customer service. They’re your frontline, dealing with customers. Imagine if they’re working on a production line, and they’re just not fully there.
There’s a high risk of errors—a faulty product, a mistake that could cost lives. So, we need to support people—not just on one end of the spectrum, but across the board.
Michael Landsberg: You know Deloitte, right? Deloitte is a worldwide powerhouse in accounting, which is their roots, but also in consulting and so many different areas. They launched a study on mental health in the workplace, and I was just looking at it 10 minutes before we went on air—pulling quotes from it.
Every single conclusion they reached was like a selling point for First Step. Everything they said about:
The responsibility of the company
The payoff for investing in mental health
The responsibility of the employee
All of it pointed to the same thing—the kind of program that can start dialogue, help people feel better about themselves, and open doors.
It was like, Oh my gosh, why didn’t I see this before?
And one of the things they also talked about was return on investment—that for every $1 spent on mental health, in the first year, companies make back $1.66. And that’s actually lower than what other studies have shown!
So, that’s the selfish reason to do it—it’s good for business.
Ashish Kothari: Yeah, look—two years ago, I decided to leave McKinsey. By the way, McKinsey Health Institute did a very similar study, as did BCG, Thrive Global, Oxford—so many studies pointing to the same conclusions.
Two years ago, I left McKinsey with a mission to democratize flourishing—to help companies and individuals make happiness and flourishing their competitive edge.
Michael, thank you for the work you’re doing, because First Step is exactly that—the first step toward that vision.
For those in the middle, this program is great. But for those who are struggling—unless we help them take that first step to get help, flourishing is just an abstract concept. For them, it’s not about flourishing. It’s about surviving.
So, I’m deeply grateful—for our friendship, for your work, for everything you’re doing. And I’m really excited to bring your message and your work to all of my clients. To all the listeners, we’ll put Michael’s contact details in the show notes.
Please reach out. This isn’t just about awareness—it’s about action. Look, especially in today’s world—more people are struggling than ever.
So, Michael, thank you. I’m grateful for your work, for your presence on this show, and most of all, to call you my friend.
Michael Landsberg: Right back at you. Thank you for the chance to do what we just did. It brings me incredible joy to be able to do this. And my last words to you—let me count them—four words, okay?
You ready? Fight for your happiness. If you don’t, who will?
Ashish Kothari: No one else will. Thank you, my friend.
