We have become fluent in the vocabulary of mental health, using the language as armor against the vulnerability that relationships require. Through “therapy speak,” I have had friends that have set boundaries, only for our relationships to diminish due to these boundaries.
The contemporary discussion surrounding “therapy speak,” which includes terms such as “boundaries” and “self-advocacy,” has achieved near-hegemonic status in our therapeutic culture. Yet, it conceals a flaw: the emphasis on individual self-protection over human connection. Therapy, once meant to be a mirror to oneself, has been repurposed into a shield that only protects insecurities and biases.
This therapeutic takeover didn’t happen overnight.
In his book “The Culture of Narcissism,” philosopher Christopher Lasch argues that post-World War II American society has produced a personality type consistent with clinical definitions of pathological narcissism.
“Plagued by anxiety, depression, vague discontents, a sense of inner-emptiness, the ‘psychological man’ of the 20th century seeks … peace of mind, under conditions that militate against it … he turns to [therapists] in the hope of achieving the modern equivalent of salvation, ‘mental health,’” Lasch writes.
Nearly half a century later, we’ve fulfilled his prophecy by turning self-care into a strict religion.
Clinical terminology escaped the therapist’s office and took residence in group chats and casual conversations. An individual can perfectly articulate their “attachment styles” and “love languages,” yet can’t seem to attach to anyone or speak any language that doesn’t sound like it someone copy-pasted it from an Instagram therapist’s post.
In an episode of the American Psychological Association’s flagship podcast “Speaking of Psychology,” clinical psychologist Dr. Erin Parks discusses her observations regarding therapy speak.
“I’ll hear the ‘I’m not talking to them because of boundaries’ … not recognizing that boundaries are something that you set for yourself versus impose on other people … when they’re not using them correctly, it’s just going to bring more relationship strife,” Dr. Parks said.
This word evolution encourages individuals to diagnose and not listen.
In 2023, actor Jonah Hill made headlines when his text messages revealed him making controlling demands — such as who his ex could be friends with and what she could post on social media — his “boundaries.”
Originally meant to govern our own actions and protect our well-being, “boundaries” have morphed into unilateral demands we place on others.
A 2023 Harris Poll survey on workplace communication found that when companies use empathetic-sounding but vague jargon such as “We’re like family,” a majority of employees perceive it as disingenuous.
The adoption of this vernacular symbolizes professionalism, where the logic and language of formal institutions are taking over the private sphere. The result is the bureaucratization of intimacy: we manage relationships through formal declarations and rule-setting, both of which are a veil for emotional disengagement.
It is not the case that I’m some therapy-hating troglodyte who thinks we should all stuff our feelings down and call it character building. I am grateful that we are getting increasingly more psychologically literate. There is evidence that the establishment of healthy personal boundaries is psychologically beneficial, leading to lower stress, increased self-esteem and protecting one’s overall well-being.
While mental health service utilization has skyrocketed, with nearly one in five adults recently receiving care, collective well-being continues to decline. Somewhere between downloading our 10th meditation app and labeling our 5th “toxic” friend of the semester, we’ve stretched the distance between one another.
One may argue that therapy standardizes mental health knowledge and provides the tools to protect people from genuinely harmful relationships. Therapy provides tools such as emotional granularity, which is the ability to differentiate between emotions. These tools allow people to conceptualize their experiences and act upon them.
Therapeutic language has indeed helped many people identify and escape toxic situations. However, the language meant to facilitate communication has become a tool to avoid it. When “I need to set a boundary” becomes code for “I’m ending this conversation because it’s uncomfortable,” we’ve strayed from the messy business of relating to another human being.
Philosopher Simone Weil articulates the radical act of attention directed away from the self and toward the other subject.
“The love of our neighbor in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: ‘What are you going through?’”
Communication is a two-way street; it exists only in the space between those who risk revealing themselves to another individual. At the end of the day, no amount of perfectly articulated boundaries (even with “I feel …” statements) can substitute for the honest, messy act of showing up for each other.
Relationships aren’t supposed to be comfortable; they’re supposed to be risky and constantly challenging both parties to grow. Real connection just needs two people brave enough to actually see each other, even if it means skipping some emotional paperwork.
Contact Val Nguyen at vnguyen4@oxy.edu
