A stranger telling you that your partner is “gaslighting” you, someone else advising you to cut off your friends to “protect your peace”, someone else recommending you start treating all your behaviours as “trauma responses”. This language has subtly migrated from the therapist’s office into the online world, becoming a part of everyday conversation.
Upon first glance, this shift may appear positive as a long-overdue indicator that conversations around mental health are being de-stigmatised. However, the transformation of what was once language reserved for professionals into what seems to be a form of social media shorthand does not come without its repercussions. In fact, this growing obsession with therapy-speak on social media raises a few important, albeit uncomfortable, questions: is our psychological literacy growing or being diluted? And what are the long-term effects of pathologising our behaviours and relationships?
A major result of this overuse of therapy-speak by unqualified individuals is the tendency for social media users to turn to others for mental health advice. In a world where professional help may be inaccessible for some, it’s no wonder that people are turning to others for help with their mental health. However, as a result, comment sections are filled with strangers with no real experience working with mental illness, trying to diagnose each other.
Whilst some may argue that these threads of pseudo-scientific psychoanalysis act as important communities and provide support and validation for people who are struggling, when the blind lead the blind, it becomes a short jump from feeling worn out from work to genuinely believing you have a personality disorder because a video on TikTok told you so. Mental illness is deeply complex and nuanced, and by reducing it to fit the easily digestible and fast-paced format of short-form content, it is easy for users to feel they are capable of recognising and even labelling these incredibly multifaceted conditions. Blurring the lines between empathy and specialised knowledge creates more harm than good for everyone involved.
To further complicate this issue, a new quack therapist has entered mainstream social media: artificial intelligence. AI chatbots are designed to be engaging, offering instant answers for free in a gentle and non-condescending tone, so it is no surprise that vulnerable individuals are consulting AI for mental health advice. After all, when you have all the information in the world at your disposal, it is difficult not to misuse it.
The main problem here lies in the fact that AI is not human. It lacks the lived experience and ability to truly understand a person’s life needed to provide professional-level help or advice. It lacks the accountability needed to ensure it provides truly beneficial insights, and it lacks the autonomy to be sufficiently critical of its users’ behaviours when necessary.
This means that despite AI seeming like a convenient alternative to a therapist for some, especially those who are struggling to discuss such personal topics with a real person, no amount of computer-generated, algorithmic responses can provide a sufficient substitute for a trained professional.
Another consequence of social media’s shift towards therapy-speak is the breakdown of real-life communities and relationships. Much of the language used online encourages hugely individualistic attitudes, which could be seen as beneficial for prioritising our own needs, but could also be seen as a subtle undermining of valuable relationships.
For example, rather than viewing conflicts and disagreements as a necessary element for the growth of most relationships (whether familial, romantic or friendships), online therapy-speak-dominated spaces may label them as “toxic” and suggest that other people in your life are not “respecting your boundaries.” Rather than encouraging healthy discussions, you might be advised to cut people out of your life if they aren’t “serving you” anymore.
Whilst these individual-focused attitudes can be crucial in clinical settings, especially when navigating situations of abuse or manipulation, in day-to-day life, this can create a perspective that places the self at the centre of all relationships. The notion that if anyone causes you any level of discomfort, they must be trying to harm your mental health and therefore need to be cut off, not only can be seen as entitled, but it also erodes a sense of community.
Disagreements and compromise are an inevitable part of most relationships, and framing these as acts of psychological attack that need to be eliminated for the good of the individual can lead to isolation and, ironically, a worsening of their mental state.
Ultimately, while some could argue the rise of therapy-speak in online spaces is a much-needed shift toward greater understanding of mental health, I would argue the opposite. These terms that are being haphazardly thrown around have real, specific meanings and should not be watered down to describe any negative aspects of life.
Not only does this invalidate the real experiences of those to whom these terms may actually apply, but it also discourages more complex conversations. If, instead of having in-depth conversations and considering why someone may be behaving a certain way, we immediately try to label them, dialogue is being shut down in favour of (likely inaccurate) diagnoses.
This doesn’t mean we should stop talking about mental health; in fact, it is the opposite. Discussing mental health is imperative for reducing its stigma and the fear around it, but the problem lies in maintaining its depth.
In a world where we are bombarded with advice from people with as little expertise as ourselves, or from their AI assistants, mental health awareness cannot come at the cost of community and it absolutely should not eliminate the complicated, yet inherently human, process of fully understanding each other without writing one another off as another number to add to the statistics on mental health.
