Written by Nialynn Cueto
“Some feelings are like old familiar friends.” – Marcus Baker
This was the thought that grounded Marcus Baker as he slipped back into the quiet chaos of another depressive episode. It wasn’t loud or cinematic—it was subtle. A sinking feeling in his chest. A shadow that followed him from the moment he woke up. He was doing everything “right”: talking to loved ones, writing his English papers, taking his medication, and showing up with a smile.
But beneath the surface, nothing felt okay. Because depression—real depression—isn’t something that passes with time, or something that talking can always fix. It lingers, waits, and returns, uninvited. Like an old familiar friend.
The Illusion of “Wellness Culture”
In today’s world, mental health is everywhere. We see it in bite-sized Instagram posts: “Drink water and rest.” “Cut out toxic people.” “Prioritize peace.” A new podcast on mindfulness. A 15-second reel on the power of journaling. A motivational video that promises: “Watch this to completely change your mindset.”
And yes—these messages can be helpful. They can spark reflection or encourage healthy habits. But they’re also part of a wellness industry that often reduces complex mental health issues into simple, aesthetic routines.
What happens when someone does everything right—and still feels terrible? Too often, these moments of pain are met with silence, shame, or worse: the belief that you're just not “trying hard enough.” This mindset is dangerous. It suggests healing is linear, controllable, and always visible. But it isn’t.
The Dangerous Binary in Mental Health Conversations
Mental illness is often discussed in extremes. Either you believe mainstream solutions like yoga, journaling, or “positive thinking” are enough—or you are perceived as hopeless, “too far gone.”
This black-and-white thinking contributes to dangerous misconceptions. It paints those who struggle as “crazy,” “lazy,” or a “burden.” And for those who want to open up? The fear of being misunderstood often keeps them silent.
This isn’t just a social issue—it’s a public health crisis. Because as long as we fail to talk about the gray areas—the in-between moments where someone is functioning, but still hurting—we leave people feeling unseen and unheard.
The Truth About Healing: It's Not Linear
Mental illness hijacks the mind—your perception of self, the world, and your emotions. And healing? It doesn’t mean "becoming happy again." It means learning how to exist alongside pain without letting it consume you.
Perception can be reshaped with time and support. Therapy modalities like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) help individuals reframe thoughts. Practices like mindfulness and meditation can slow racing thoughts. Spirituality, for some, offers a sense of grounding or meaning. These are not “cures”—they are tools. And using them requires patience, consistency, and often, external support.
Emotions, on the other hand, are more complicated. There’s no formula for grief. No magic number of meditations to erase anxiety. Some days will feel lighter than others. Some feelings will linger for years. Healing isn’t about controlling your emotions—it’s about understanding them and not being ruled by them.
Time Alone Isn’t Enough
We’re often told to “give it time.” But time alone doesn’t heal. What heals is what happens within that time: support, reflection, care, treatment, and grace.
Telling someone to “wait it out” can feel dismissive. It's not that time is useless—but that it needs to be filled with meaningful action. Sometimes that action is therapy. Sometimes it’s medication. Sometimes it’s simply having someone say, “I’m here. I see you.”
The Bottom Line
Mental illness isn’t just sadness. It’s a complex, invisible force that alters how a person feels, thinks, and functions. And while social media posts about self-care and positivity may offer comfort, they don’t replace real conversations about what it’s like to live with a mental health condition.
We need to normalize the full spectrum of emotional experience. We need to talk about how it feels to relapse even when things look fine. We need to stop shaming those who are still struggling—and start listening more deeply.
Because some feelings are like old familiar friends. And when they return, we need to know how to greet them with compassion, not silence. If we want to truly support mental health, we need to stop searching for quick fixes and start sitting with the uncomfortable truths. Healing isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always productive. And it isn’t always obvious. But it’s real. And it’s worth talking about.
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