Mental Illness Should Not Be Romanticized

The COVID-19 pandemic triggered a rise in mental illness among young people that has yet to fall. In the aftermath of a time full of isolation, uncertainty, and disrupted routines, many young people turned to social media apps like TikTok and Instagram to find escape, connection, and validation. These platforms became digital sanctuaries: places to vent, cope, and feel seen in their mental health struggles. However, many don’t realize that the same platforms offering comfort are the same ones contributing to the very decline in their already deteriorating mental well-being. 

While social media has helped open up conversations around mental health and break down stigma, it has also fostered a culture where mental illness is romanticized rather than being responsibly represented. Every day, thousands of short-form videos are posted portraying mental health struggles, from tearful confessions to aestheticized depictions of depression and anxiety. While this content helps validate shared experiences and make people feel less alone, it’s also fueling a ruinous mindset: simply being part of a struggling community is enough to heal. The already thin line between advocacy and aesthetics has blurred, leaving many young people to unknowingly internalize harmful narratives in the name of feeling less alone. 

A brief history of online mental health culture

Before the rise of TikTok and Instagram, there was a platform called Tumblr. This now-dead social media platform quietly shaped a young generation’s relationship with mental health. Tumblr was the birthplace of the “sad aesthetic:” full of curated black-and-white images, cryptic quotes about pain and internal suffering, and romanticized portrayals of self-destruction. Tumblr wasn’t a place where you went for solutions or professional resources; it was a place where people bonded over their darkest thoughts, finding comfort in their sadness rather than in healing. 

This toxic culture laid the groundwork for what would come next. 

When COVID-19 forced the world into isolation, platforms like TikTok and Instagram surged in popularity. Users began documenting the emotional toll quarantine was taking on them through short-form, “trendy” videos. The presentation of these videos was beautiful, relatable, and easy to consume — perhaps too easy. It turned mental illness into an aesthetic, a trend we have yet to reverse. 

Even after the world reopened, this toxic content didn’t stop. For many people who could never fully recover from the negative mental health impacts of the pandemic, these videos became a way to cope. It was a method of self-soothing through visibility and engagement. Content creation became therapy, even if it wasn’t always therapeutic. What started as finding community has evolved into a blend of validation, performance, and passive coping, all driven by algorithms that reward emotional vulnerability wrapped in visual appeal.

The problem with romanticizing

Romanticizing mental illnesses doesn’t raise awareness; instead, it invalidates real struggles. It reduces life-changing conditions into quirky habits or temporary moods, making it harder for people to recognize when something is actually wrong. 

Spending a few hours in bed scrolling through social media doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re depressed. Moreover, leaving piles of laundry on the floor or feeling overwhelmed doesn’t automatically point to a clinical diagnosis. However, on social media, these everyday moments are often framed as symptoms. This leads to people believing that these small everyday moments must mean something deeper, and this is where the danger of romanticization lies.  

Self-diagnosis can feel comforting, but it’s misleading. It creates a false sense of understanding that can lead to more harmful situations in the future. I’ve experienced this firsthand. For most of my adolescence, I told myself that I had anxiety and depression, and I could manage them myself. I convinced myself that simply naming the mental illness was enough. I didn’t feel the need to seek professional help because recognizing it within myself was a form of control and healing. I thought I could cope by relating to everyone else on the internet who also had anxiety and depression.  

I’d scroll through TikTok and see videos of people lying in bed all day, cleaning their “depression rooms,” or sharing mental health stories that sounded just like mine. It made me feel seen and validated, but it also made me complacent. Every day, I thought to myself, This is normal. I’m not alone. I’m fine. But I wasn’t, and if I didn’t deal with my mental illness professionally, I would fall into a pit I wouldn’t be able to get out of. 

That’s the problem with romanticizing mental illness: it blurs the already thin line between community and complacency. It gives you just enough validation to feel understood and seen, but not enough clarity to seek the proper care. When content prioritizes relatability over responsibility, it risks turning mental illness into something to be aestheticized and “trendy” instead of something to be treated professionally. 

Gen Z’s evolving understanding of mental illness

Luckily, there is one positive outcome from the rise of mental health content on social media: Gen Z is more aware, open, and informed about mental illness than any generation before. Conversations that were once stigmatized are now mainstreamed. Therapy is no longer seen as shameful; instead, it’s seen as empowering. Access to mental health resources has expanded exponentially. Young people are talking more, asking more questions, and validating each other’s experiences.

That said, awareness doesn’t always mean clarity. Too much information can be just as harmful as not enough information.

Scrolling on TikTok and Instagram means coming across a constant flood of mental health content. Although a lot of it is helpful, a lot of it can also be misleading. It’s easy to get swept up in quick definitions and minor symptoms. Being anxious about making a phone call is now mistaken for having anxiety. Feeling down for a day is misread as having depression. While self-reflection is important, too much of it can call for misinformed self-diagnosis without context or guidance. 

There’s also growing confusion between aesthetics and advocacy. A TikTok video of someone cleaning their “depression room” may look like an influential moment of mental health awareness, but often, it’s more about seeking reassurance and validation. It’s not always necessarily harmful on its own, but when content like this becomes the dominant narrative, it shifts focus from healing to relatability. 

The important thing is that Gen Z is redefining how mental illness is being discussed, but that redefinition still needs some direction. We must be aware of the difference between venting and educating, in addition to community and complacency. While these conversations are louder than ever in this generation, the responsibility to have them carefully is just as important. 

The line between awareness and aesthetic

The good news is that there are multiple ways for you to distinguish genuine mental health advocacy from performative content on social media.  

tone and intent

Genuine advocacy will use compassionate and informed language centered around support, understanding, and education. It acknowledges the complexities of mental health and how it affects you in negative ways. It doesn’t sugarcoat the reality of mental illness; instead, it acknowledges the pain and complexity that comes with it. 

On the other hand, performative content will often dramatize or humorize mental health for engagement. It glorifies mental illness by portraying symptoms as quirky traits, such as the typical saying: “My OCD is so bad; I have to keep everything clean.” There is no fundamental understanding or context to be seen. 

resources

Genuine advocacy is often paired with action. It offers helpful resources such as links to crisis lines, therapy resources, or encouragement to seek professional help. It encourages you to take real steps towards healing rather than making excuses. 

Performative content rarely points to viable solutions. It focuses strictly on engagement rather than offering any support or direction.  

Use of stereotypes

Genuine advocacy avoids cliches and myth-based language. It challenges the stigmas surrounding mental illness rather than reinforcing them.  

Performative content often reinforces these outdated and damaging stereotypes. Tropes such as the “tortured artist,” “crazy ex,” or the “moody loner” are wrapped in humor and aesthetics that mask their actual harm. 

mental illness visuals

Genuine content portrays mental illness authentically; it’s raw and honest. It doesn’t shy away from the uncomfortable parts. It highlights the real-life changing impacts of anxiety, depression, and trauma without trying to make it look “aesthetic.” 

Performative content will often package suffering into something that looks visually appealing, and in doing so, will distort the reality of what mental illness truly looks and feels like. 

It’s critical to understand media literacy to understand these differences, especially when the line between awareness and aesthetics is already blurred. That said, it shouldn’t be up to just you to be informed. Parents, schools, and social media platforms are all responsible for guiding accurate conversations about mental health. Mental health struggles aren’t just a trend or an aesthetic. They’re real, painful, and affect people in ways that can’t be captured in a minute-long video. 

We’re living in a time where mental health is finally being talked about openly across every platform. COVID-19 has pushed these conversations forward with incredible honesty and vulnerability, but somewhere along the way, the line between raising awareness and romanticizing mental illness has blurred. 

Mental health is not an aesthetic. It’s not a trend or a way to get better engagement online. Rather, it’s a journey that affects your entire life and deserves care, understanding, and proper awareness. As young people continue to shape the digital landscape, there’s a real opportunity to rewrite the narrative. There’s a chance to shift from performative posting to purposeful advocacy.  

Awareness is just the beginning. What matters most is what we choose to do with it. 

• college
• covid
• health
• mental health
• social media
• tiktok
• wellness