PRIME Retreat: Feb 19-22, Joshua Tree, CA: Learn More
PRIME Retreat: Feb 19-22, Joshua Tree, CA: Learn More
Conversations today often sound like mini-therapy sessions. We casually diagnose ourselves and each other: “He’s avoidant.” “She’s codependent.” “That’s trauma bonding.” These once-clinical terms have migrated into everyday life, becoming shorthand for who we are and how we relate.
Why? Because labels give us the illusion of control. Just as astrology once promised certainty in chaos, therapy-speak offers a script for how to navigate relationships and emotions. It feels safer to know what to call it than to face the unknown territory of actually living it.
Social media has amplified this trend. TikTok, Instagram, and podcasts are filled with bite-sized lessons on mental health. A 2025 Pew Research survey found that 34% of teens get information about mental health from social media, and nearly two-thirds of those say it’s an important source.
But experts are warning us: overusing therapy terms can be harmful. Psychologist Allen Frances points out that “labels can help a great deal. They can hurt a great deal. They are vastly overused to describe mild problems of everyday life better described with everyday language” (Behaviorism and Mental Health).
Even mainstream outlets are sounding alarms. Scripps News reports that the constant use of words like “gaslighting” and “narcissist” dilutes meaning and erodes trust in genuine relationships. The Cleveland Clinic adds that many therapy terms (like “trauma bonding”) aren’t official diagnoses at all, but pop-culture inventions.
Men, in particular, feel the squeeze. Most want to succeed in life and relationships. Yet more and more, they feel policed by a language they didn’t invent. Normal frustrations or differences get pathologized: “You’re narcissistic.” “You’re anxiously attached.”
The paradox: the harder men try to “do it right” according to these labels, the more performative and disconnected they become. Instead of being present, they monitor themselves. Instead of building trust, they come across as inauthentic.
This pathology-first worldview doesn’t stop with adults. It’s shaping how we see our kids.
In the name of protecting children, we’re teaching them to see themselves through the lens of disorders and deficits, rather than resilience and possibility.
The pull of labels is understandable. They give us a story, a sense of order in a complex world. But the cost is high: life becomes about managing categories rather than living experiences.
Real safety doesn’t come from a diagnosis. It comes from presence, connection, and the ability to face risk together.
Previous generations, despite hardship, were more directly embedded in community and embodied experience. Belonging was earned through living, not through the mastery of psychological terms.
Today’s paradox: in the pursuit of being “healthy” and “self-aware,” we have disconnected from our bodies, our relationships, and our communities. We confuse the map (labels, models, concepts) with the territory (lived experience).
This is not an argument against therapy or psychological insight. They have value. But they are not enough. To move forward, we must rebalance:
At MELD, we see this every day. When men slow down to relax, open up to being vulnerable and present, and reach out to connect, they rediscover trust and authenticity. It’s not about doing it right, it’s about showing up real.
We have a choice. We can live as case studies in pathology, or as participants in the messy, risky, enlivening experience of being human. Our kids are watching. Will we hand them a DSM-shaped life, or one rooted in trust, resilience, and connection?
We can utilize the perspectives of therapy to connect with previously disconnected parts of ourselves and others in more authentic ways. Let’s outgrow our obsession with labels. Let’s live the experiment of being human—together.
