The Living Room’s Barry Du Bois: How I helped my depression

Barry Du Bois opens up like never before on how he spiralled into the darkness of depression – and came out the other end – after going through things that would break most people.

There’s a moment I’ll never forget.

I was sitting in a cold, unfamiliar consult room at St Vincent’s Hospital, my beautiful wife’s warm hand holding mine. It had been a long day of scans, X-rays, and biopsies.

Then someone — a doctor who had known me for only a few hours — looked me in the eye and told me I had three months to live.

There were three doctors in the room.

I responded to one of them: “Thanks for your advice, but I’m not interested in that — and I’d rather you left the room.”

I turned to the next two and told them: “You might not know the kind of will I have to live, but if you do your job, I’ll do the rest.”

They were unaware that I’d already been through things that break most people.

Leaning Into adversity

Years earlier life had thrown some heavy curve balls at me, I had fallen 14m off a roof.

I broke my back, shattered my leg, and lay on the ground thinking I’d never walk again.

Pain was my shadow for years. I lost my independence. I remember crying in my car because of the intense pain I would have to go through just to get out of it.

Barry Du Bois has opened up about how he got through some of his darkest moments. Picture Thomas Lisson

Then I lost my mum to cancer.

My mum was my compass, a gentle and caring person that only knew how to love.

Watching her deteriorate was heartbreaking.

Sprinkle into all that my wife Leonie and I had had several attempts of IVF.

Then just one year after mum passed away and on our 12th attempt of IVF we were pregnant with twins.

Internally I was struggling emotionally and this was the light at the end of the tunnel.

That was until I heard that ever-familiar scream then crying coming from the bathroom.

I knew straight away that we had failed again.

I didn’t think it was possible to hurt any more. I was lost and felt empty. It seemed anyone that loved me was being punished.

Life didn’t make sense and seemed very unfair.

Two weeks after the miscarriage in the consult room of our gynaecologist we were told Leonie now had cervical cancer.

Barry Du Bois with his kids Arabella and Bennett. Picture: Tim Hunter.

While Leonie stayed strong going through the treatment and surgery I felt weaker and weaker. I felt like the fight had gone out of me.

I avoided conversation and started a continual negative conversation with myself that took me into the darkness of depression.

Depression is a lonely state and I refused to share my pain, I saw it as a weakness.

I felt those that were relying on me would feel abandoned. I also felt vulnerable if I shared what I was going through.

Leonie, however, knew I was in pain and while I rejected her care and compassion due to my state of mind she knew that if I could again find purpose, connection and a sense of belonging again I would regain my straight.

She (as always) was right.

Barry Du Bois with wife Leonie. Picture: Instagram

It started slowly with not only solution-based conversation but vulnerable empathetic exchanges.

Sometimes there were long moments of silence but with deep connection came self belief again.

So when I got my diagnosis — incurable cancer, three months to live — I didn’t fall apart.

I didn’t make peace with that prognosis.

I knew that from leaning into the previous adversities of life I had the resilience to give the fight of my life.

I leaned on everything I’d learned. I focused on the things I could control: mindset, nutrition, movement, and connection. I practised mindfulness every day.

I laughed, even when I was scared. I told my body it could heal. And above all, I chose to be present — for myself, and for the people I love.

Spoiler alert: that doctor was wrong. I jumped in the ring with the big C and won the first round.

Surrogacy brings joy

A couple of years before that diagnosis, we had begun the surrogacy process.

It wasn’t easy. Seven surrogacy attempts. Four long years. Legal battles, ethical decisions, uncertainty. But through all of it, we never gave up. We visualised holding our children. We kept their names in our hearts, even before they were born.

Barry Du Bois was able to overcome his depression with the help of wife Leonie. Picture: Instagram

And in 2012, all the love, persistence and belief in the world came together. That’s the year we welcomed our beautiful twins — Arabella and Bennet. They are the reason I keep fighting, the reason I stay strong, the reason I smile every morning.

Becoming a father was the most extraordinary moment of my life.

My story isn’t a tragedy. I am proud and grateful to say It’s a story of resilience, and it’s still being written.

I’ve worked for more than a decade in the mental health space, and everything I teach others, I practise myself.

I stay positive by staying connected

I check in with my mates — real conversations, not just surface talk. I use breath work, meditation and writing in a journal to clear my mind.

I walk barefoot on the beach or in the bush, I sit with my kids and talk about how they’re feeling. I cry when I need to. I breathe deeply, and I remind myself: today is a gift.

The cancer came back in 2017 as Multiple Myeloma. I live with that incurable blood cancer to this day. But I also live with intention, gratitude, and meaning. Integrative oncology, mindfulness, community, and purpose — these are the tools in my toolkit.

I dedicate much of my time sharing my story and empowering others through keynote speaking and corporate workshops with what I have learnt.

Barry Du Bois has written about how he got through difficult times for Men’s Health Week, which is coming up in June.

Men’s Health Week matters because men have been sold the lie that silence is strength.

But I can tell you from experience — real strength is vulnerability.

Real strength is starting the conversation, even when your voice shakes.

I speak to men across the country — fathers, tradies, CEOs — and I see it every time: they’re carrying so much. And they don’t feel like they’re allowed to talk about it.

That has to change. Because when we open up, we don’t just heal ourselves — we give others permission to do the same.

Barry Du Bois with his family. Picture: Instagram

Mental health isn’t a weakness. It’s the strongest foundation you can build your life on.

If you’re reading this and carrying something heavy, I want you to know: You don’t have to carry it alone. That first word might just save your life.

Barry Du Bois is sharing his story for Men’s Health Week through being a thought leader with Cuppa.tv, a purpose-led social enterprise.

Originally published as The Living Room’s Barry Du Bois: How I helped my depression