Every week, in my lunchtime wellness class, we begin with a mental health check-in. Sitting in a circle, each classmate shares something on their mind, and I hear a lot of “I’m tired,” “I’m stressed about that chem quiz,” and “I can’t wait for this week to be over.” But one day, a classmate ventures to say something different: “I feel lonely and isolated. I can’t open up to my friends here, and I want to go home.” In the long silence that followed, I realized that the stand-in “mental health” comments we’ve deeply internalized make us forget how to respond to vulnerability and validate each other’s experiences. As mental health enters the forefront of many people’s minds, we’re often encouraged to talk about how we feel, but are these responses truly healthy if they’re practically rehearsed and the only mental health conversation we have all day?  

It turns out other teens have noticed the hollowness of mental health conversation, too. A recent wave of “You Say You’re a Mental Health Advocate” TikToks to the tune of Five Years by Bo Burnham suggests that we’re only comfortable discussing mental health to a certain point. Though depthless exchanges may seem to protect us from discomfort, a 2010 study by University of Arizona psychologist Mattias Mehl shows that having more substantive conversations can actually increase our happiness.

Shallow mental health conversations aren’t just limited to chatter among students. Similar glamorizations are also pervasive on social media, with slacktivist influencers “opening up” about their mental health struggles to keep up with the latest hashtag. Supermodel Bella Hadid uploaded crying selfies on Instagram, Kendall Jenner reposted an “IT’S OK TO NOT BE OK” message, and Hailey Bieber joined the #HowAreYouReally challenge with a generic statement on the importance of mental health. For many of these celebrities, mental health discourse has become a one-time, formulaic means of joining the mental health advocacy bandwagon. Having supported mental health awareness, these influencers are quick to return to standard content about gala attendance or modeling photoshoots. Using performative mental health struggles to boost engagement is more than a celebrity fad. For instance, the orange juice brand SunnyD tweeted “I can’t do this anymore” in response to a disappointing Super Bowl halftime show. 

While performative mental health conversation can be helpful in normalizing our bad days, the dangers are striking. It’s clear that emotional distress has become trendy on social media. But we need to be wary of romanticizing anxiety and depression, as this can invalidate individual experiences. Doing so also generalizes mental health struggles into a dominant image of “we all have ups and downs” or “mindful breathing helps,” which is damaging for true mental health advocacy. This makes it more difficult to reach out for help when it’s needed, and for those who may wish to support others through mental health challenges, it also hampers our ability to respond in meaningful ways. 

Within the last year, we seem to be making headway toward having more authentic mental health conversations. From the Teen Talk app to the Real Talk podcast to The Atlantic’s Dear Therapist column, there are emergent spaces for vulnerability and supportive exchange. Yet these efforts do not fully counteract the current norm of robotic mental health conversation. If we do not change the culture around shallow dialogue, we won’t be able to feel the real benefits of productive spaces (eg. school mental health curricula and workplace training), such as reducing stigma and connecting people to resources. 

Though we’ve made a lot of progress in our willingness to talk about mental health since the start of the pandemic, we’ve hit a standstill in the nature of these conversations. To keep the discussion evolving, it is important to be more aware of the ways in which we’re talking about mental health: if done superficially, the conversation itself isn’t always helpful. Moving beyond the pseudo-conversation we’ve grown accustomed to will require us to embrace discomfort and formulate new scripts.  

So the next time someone shares that they’re running on empty or stressed about school, resist the urge to merely agree or one-up the person. Instead, open up the discussion: validate their feelings, show them you care, and ask how you can help.