Is ‘Therapy Speak’ Working Against You? by Waseem Amin

“Wow, I really let my intrusive thoughts win today.” 

“My ex was so toxic and narcissistic. Who breaks up with someone for being depressed??” 

“I’m so OCD when I’m decorating. An uneven shelf would send me.”

“You can’t travel alone with your [insert gender] bestie. That violates my boundaries.”

“I can never seem to focus on the boring stuff at work. I guess I’m just super ADHD.”

“I can’t believe my friend just gaslit me like that. I know for a fact I was wearing my yellow sweater and she kept insisting I had my blue one on.”

Given our increasing fascination with psychology and mental health, particularly in online spheres, you’ve likely heard lots of statements like these or maybe even made a few yourself. Mental health language now peppers many of our casual conversations, and there is something truly beautiful about the empowerment and progress therein. As a culture, we have been dismantling stigma, using shared language to help us feel less alone in our struggles, and creating all kinds of outlets, communities, and resources that encourage growth and healing for each other and ourselves. 

As with any such potent sweeping change, this widely and instantly accessible sea of knowledge presents us with room for reflection and growth as well. Taking a moment to think about how we present our mental health vocabulary can be a powerful practice in both accountability and compassion, and I believe that casual ‘therapy speak’ may benefit from this type of ongoing examination. Although we may not register it in the moment, the nonchalant use of clinical terms can lead to misunderstandings that go beyond semantics, distorting expectations and creating confusion in conversations meant to connect us. 

Take, for example, two friends talking about how stressed they’ve been about starting college. They both feel comfortable describing their state as “having anxiety”. One friend channels their nervousness into preparing. They speak with friends and family who have been to college, research courses and groups on campus, and start their dorm checklist. They take breaks when needed, and they can put the topic aside when they feel good about the work they’ve done. The other friend takes similar steps, but it also feels like there is no stopping this ‘preparation’ train. They feel compelled to think of every possible contingency: what are all the ways things can go wrong, and how can they be avoided? They feel preoccupied with the topic when trying to do anything else, which makes them feel on edge and physically tense. This level of distress makes it difficult for them to comfortably get through the day, and they find themselves feeling depleted most of the time. The same word, “anxiety”, took on very different meanings for its different users in this situation. 

Or consider the term ‘intrusive thoughts’, which has adopted a humorous tone in many online posts. Folks casually joke about an impulse buy or silly choice being a time that their ‘intrusive thoughts won’. In sharp contrast with this humor, someone living with undiagnosed OCD could be enduring unwanted thoughts and mental images so morally repugnant that they question their very character, wondering if they’re a ‘bad person’ for living with symptoms that they don’t even realize they have. 

When experiences like these are downplayed or joked about, they marginalize the very people whose wellness we sought to enhance with mental health advocacy. Using clinical terms to describe ordinary experiences can make the folks living with mental health conditions feel ashamed, isolated, and dismissed rather than supported. What could have been a reason for them to lean on their loved ones or even seek professional help mutates into barriers to the care they need. 

So the question then becomes, how do we move forward with both increased awareness and compassion? 

I invite you to consider using descriptive rather than prescriptive language. Instead of relying on mental health terms whose applications can be unclear in non-clinical contexts, try taking a more explanatory approach. For instance, rather than reaching for a phrase like “I’m so ADHD”, you can explain that you’ve been “feeling scattered and distracted lately”. Instead of “I was gaslit”, you can say “I felt unheard and uncared for when I was repeatedly misunderstood in this conversation”. In lieu of making assumptions about how accurately diagnostic terms mirror lived experiences, try taking a more curious and open stance. You might be surprised how much more you learn about yourself and the people around you as you welcome the more vulnerable route to communication, choosing to share experiences more personally and authentically instead of masking them with the ambiguity of a broader label. 

Like any other helpful tool, mental health terms are highly constructive in some contexts while being obstructive in others. The gift of connection within can tempt us to use them as a universal key, relying on them across different settings with less attention to context and impact. In reality, the complexity of diagnostic terms lends itself to a more measured and mindful approach, one that is often more wholly explored in cooperation with a mental health professional. 

At the end of the day, this is not about censorship or walking on eggshells. It’s about choosing language that is conducive to connection and healing. Let’s make the active choice to stay curious, open, and grounded in our experiences. The more care we pour into our conversations, the greater the space we create space for compassion, growth, and deeper connection. 

If you’ve ever felt unsure about how your own experiences fit into the broader mental health conversation, or if any part of this post resonated with you personally, I would be honored to support you in unpacking that further. If you think we might be a good fit for your mental health journey, please feel free to reach out through our Contact Us section.

Waseem Amin, LPC