Today, we released a captivating episode of the Radically Genuine Podcast featuring the remarkable writer, Freya India. Despite being just 24 years old, Freya emerges as one of the keenest observers of Generation Z that I've encountered. Her insights are remarkably wise, surpassing her years with profound understanding.
She is undeniably an old soul. A must-listen.
During the podcast, we explored the concerning trend of increasing numbers of Generation Z girls seeking psychiatric diagnoses, and the impact of social media on shaping their identities. Over the past decade, I've observed a gradual shift where young people struggle to articulate their inner experiences, thoughts, emotions, and reactions. Instead, they often describe themselves using psychiatric labels that are fed to them by social media influencers.
"I am depressed." "I am anxious." "I have OCD." "I think I have ADHD."
These statements, while common, reveal little about the individuals themselves and hold little inherent meaning. Some are adept at reciting diagnostic criteria as if they were coached for an interview. It's become apparent that social media influencers, TikTok reels, and YouTube videos serve as guides on how to obtain these diagnoses.
This approach may suffice in brief consultations with primary care doctors or psychiatrists, where individuals are often viewed through the lens of symptom checklists, and appointments may be brief, sometimes lasting less than 10 minutes. However, in a comprehensive initial evaluation session, such as the 90-minute one I conduct, not so much. I am interested in the person behind the “symptoms”, asking challenging questions and striving to truly understand them on a deeper level.
What I've discovered is that the natural process of introspection, which typically drives transformative change, has been overshadowed by a superficial projection of identity aimed at garnering likes on platforms like Instagram.
In light of this, one might wonder: What is the ultimate goal of seeking out a diagnosis?
Our understanding of experiences is heavily influenced by what we've learned and the cultural context in which we live. For instance, if a teenager is taught that feeling anxious in social situations equates to having an anxiety disorder, or if experiencing loneliness and rejection is immediately labeled as "depression", or boredom is interpreted as a symptom of “ADHD”, then this becomes their reality. It’s what they know.
Hey… if you're not constantly feeling good, happy, or living a life that mirrors the idealized portrayals seen on social media, then something must be inherently wrong with you. This manipulation has driven millions to seek out drugs to change how they feel.
Emotional pain serves as a necessary and adaptive aspect of human development. It’s as if we have completely lost our tolerance for this experience. Consider a scenario where a young person experiences rejection from a romantic interest, cares deeply about fitting in, and struggles to connect with a close group of friends. This scenario is quite common and reflects typical challenges faced during adolescence.
The expected feelings of anxiety and loneliness in such situations are painful emotions. However, their presence is not indicative of disorders; rather, they serve as adaptive features of our collective humanity. These emotions motivate growth and the development of specific skills necessary to form intimate connections.
For instance, the desire to avoid loneliness motivates us to become more outgoing, friendly, and learn to be better a friend. Therefore, instead of viewing these emotions as disorders, we should recognize them as natural aspects of human experience that facilitate personal growth and connection.
It sounds normal, doesn't it? Most of us can relate to these experiences at some point in our lives, particularly during the developmental challenges of adolescence. However, there's a troubling trend where industries seek to exploit these normal experiences for profit.
There's no such thing as "Rejection Sensitivity Disorder." Yet, we're witnessing a disturbing manipulation by the medical-industrial complex targeting young people. I discovered this “disorder” on the Cleveland Clinic Website. They're hell-bent on medicalizing every aspect of human experience. By labeling sensitivity to rejection as a "brain disorder," they're convincing young individuals that there's something fundamentally wrong with them for feeling this way. But the truth is, these feelings are perfectly normal— they're part of being human. We must be open with each other and develop a language that accurately communicates suffering.
Generation Z, glued to their screens and relying on social media to define their reality, is particularly vulnerable to these manipulative tactics. It's time we recognize this exploitation for what it is: a dangerous ploy to profit off the insecurities of our youth.
During the podcast, we explored the stark differences between generations. Unlike Generation X and earlier, we didn't have the luxury of accessing a supercomputer in our pockets for instant gratification, to escape discomfort, or to pass time when bored. We couldn't simply slide into a stranger's DMs to forge social connections. Approaching an attractive stranger, initiating a conversation, and requesting their number can feel more intimidating than simply sending a direct message or swiping right. You find the more you do something scary the easier it becomes in time.
TikTok and IG reels fall short in capturing the depth and richness of the human experience that is expressed through literature and in the profound conversations that unfold when we're not constantly distracted by our phones. The art of conversation has been greatly diminished by the prevalence of text messaging.
We must retain the language of suffering and understand that there's a collective experience of normalcy in these emotions. Words like "lonely," "sad," and "bored" should be openly communicated and acknowledged. Feeling rejected is not indicative of a disorder, and parents shouldn't fear their children's emotional states. Life is difficult and we will all suffer in some way. What happens when we lose the ability to communicate this to each other? It’s a lonely existence.
Sadness serves a purpose, boredom sparks creativity, and sensitivity to rejection compels us to explore the complexities of human connection, nurturing meaningful relationships and self-regulation. We need to feel these feelings. Profound loss may bring suffering, but it also encourages us to speak the language of love and empathy, further enriching our human experience.
Rock bottom will teach more than mountain tops ever will.
Centuries-old traditions of holding each other through tough times of grief, loss, and sorrow, accepting it all as normal, and allowing for the processing and healing of the emotions through loving support, is terribly missing in today’s world, and have much to teach us.
I wish someone would answer this question: are we truly experiencing a mental illness crisis or have we simply medicalized everything and we’re in a different sort of crisis?