Mental Health Is Not Taken Seriously — And It Shows
Every time I try to explain how I feel to someone, I’m usually met with discomfort and confusion. And I’m not saying someone is automatically at fault for not understanding me — mental health is complicated. But what hurts is when people don’t even try.
That’s when I realized how often mental health is brushed off or minimized. Not because people are cruel, but because it makes them uncomfortable. And instead of leaning into that discomfort, they turn away.
The moment I truly felt unseen was when I was deeply struggling after the loss of my first boyfriend. He took his own life. What that loss led to for me was obvious if anyone had been paying attention. I was acting out more, hanging around the wrong people, getting into trouble. That behavior wasn’t random. It was a cry for help.
But instead of concern, there was silence.
People turned their heads. They told themselves I was “going through a phase,” and that’s often how my mental health has been treated ever since — like something I’ll eventually grow out of, get bored of, or move past on my own.
That’s why this topic matters so much to me.
I went through a lot of unnecessary bullshit. If even one person had taken the time to educate themselves, they might have seen that there was a real problem. Someone might have actually seen me. Advocated for me. Helped me make better choices. Helped me cope with what I was going through instead of leaving me to figure it out alone.
Ignorance isn’t a good enough excuse anymore.
People spend hours of their lives on their phones every day. If you can scroll endlessly, you can Google what the hell is wrong with me and help me figure out a healthier way forward.
What I wish people understood — before I ever had to explain myself — is the kind of damage untreated mental illness can do beneath the surface. It isn’t harmless. It isn’t temporary. And in many cases, it’s irreversible. This isn’t something to take lightly. It deserves to be seen.
The Normalization of Dismissal
I am so tired of hearing phrases like “you’ll get through it, you always do.”
That sentence sounds supportive on the surface, but what usually follows is abandonment. I’m left alone with internal chaos because someone I care about believes I’m strong enough to handle it.
But what happens when I can’t be strong?
What happens then is someone walking away — not just from me, but from my mental health — because it’s too uncomfortable for them to sit with. And who pays the price for that?
Not the person who walked away. It’s me. I always pay the price.
And I’m fed up with this deeply unfair dynamic.
When people say things like “just don’t think about it” or “everyone feels like that,” what I hear is that no one will ever understand me — and if no one understands me, no one can help me. That kind of dismissal breeds hopelessness. It makes you feel isolated, defective, and alone inside your own head.
People brush you off because they can’t fathom ever feeling the way you describe your feelings to them. That’s ignorance. That’s discomfort. And no — I don’t believe those are justifiable reasons to abandon someone.
That said, sometimes the dismissal comes from fear. Fear that they won’t know what to say. Fear that they won’t know how to help. Fear that they aren’t capable of giving you what you need.
And when fear comes from love, it still doesn’t excuse inaction.
That’s why self-education matters so damn much.
Statements like these fail to understand that the mind can be overpowering. It can turn against you. Many people never have to question their own thoughts, let alone fight with them daily. So they don’t understand the gravity of what living with mental illness actually requires.
Systems That Fail Us
Mental illness is brushed off at a systemic level too — especially by the government — because it’s intangible. You can’t see it. You can’t measure it easily. There are no obvious scars.
So the assumption becomes: you must be exaggerating.
But let me say this clearly: untreated mental illness does real damage. And often that damage is irreversible for the person experiencing it.
Lack of access to care puts people in incredibly dangerous positions. When you’re already struggling, you’re forced to survive with whatever scraps you have. Sometimes that means just waking up every day, gripping hope like a lifeboat, saying “please let me breathe today.”
And not everyone survives like that. Not everyone makes it.
There are real barriers to getting help. Diagnoses are locked behind rigid criteria. If you don’t fit neatly into a textbook definition, you’re left hanging without support. Money is another massive barrier. Therapy sessions costing $100 or more are inaccessible to most people — and no, that isn’t reasonable or ethical when lives are at stake.
And then there are professionals who simply refuse to do the work.
I sat down weeks ago and poured out everything dark and painful I was carrying, only to have it painted over with sunshine and rainbows. A fucking band-aid. That’s not treatment. These are real problems that need to be addressed — not avoided because they’re uncomfortable.
Real help is holding space for both the light and the dark.
The system only seems to care when it’s too late. When someone snaps. When someone breaks. That’s when people start listening.
But it should never get to that point.
No one should have to destroy themselves through prolonged suffering to earn help. You don’t need to do anything to deserve care. That is your birthright. You deserve kindness, gentleness, understanding — and yes, solutions, if that’s what you need.
The Myth of “Just Try Harder”
Being told to “just take it off your mind” is infuriating. It assumes that mental illness is something I can control at will — like a bad habit I refuse to break.
If that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
That phrase treats intrusive thoughts and emotional distress as optional, rather than as symptoms. It minimizes the immense effort it already takes just to cope every day. It assumes I’m choosing to dwell, when in reality I’m trying to survive something that won’t let go of me.
Willpower is not a cure.
If it were, I would have willed away intrusive thoughts and overwhelming emotions the moment they appeared. But the mind doesn’t work like that. Mental illness isn’t a lack of determination — it’s the brain producing thoughts and feelings you didn’t ask for.
Willpower may influence how you respond, but it does not stop the symptoms themselves.
This mindset blames the person instead of the condition. It frames mental illness as a failure of effort, as if trying harder would somehow make it “work.” Make what work? My will already works. I want peace. I want stability. What I don’t have is control over whether these thoughts appear.
Many of them happen without consent.
When effort is ignored and only outcomes are judged, it erases the work that goes into simply staying alive. It tells us our struggle only matters if it produces tangible improvement. But the effort is constant — and it’s exhausting.
People underestimate how draining it is to exist while battling your own mind every day. Mental illness is like wearing invisible weight at all times while still being expected to live a normal life. The exhaustion never fully disappears, and that makes even basic tasks feel overwhelming and overbearing.
Mental health isn’t inconvenient. It isn’t a phase. And it isn’t something that can be fixed with platitudes and avoidance.
It’s real. It’s heavy. And it deserves to be taken seriously — before people break.
Mental health isn’t something you can think your way out of, minimize away, or ignore into submission. It deserves effort, education, and presence — not dismissal. If we want things to change, we have to stop pretending silence is kindness.
Change doesn’t start with having all the answers. It starts with listening, learning, and believing people when they tell you they’re struggling. That alone can be the difference between someone feeling alone and someone feeling seen.
If this post spoke to you in any way, I’d love to hear from you in the comments. You’re welcome to share your own experience if you feel comfortable. The purpose of this post is to help you feel seen and validated, and I hope that’s what you take away from it.
Thank you for listening.