Are You Romanticising Your Mental Health?
Image Source, Oleg Ivanov (Unsplash)
*Trigger Warning* : This article contains mentions of s*lf h*rm, depression, and other sensitive topics.
Romanticise your life. The social media trend that's exploded over the past year as a result of the pandemic, and our trying to suck some serotonin from the monotony of lockdown, has had us both appreciating and documenting the little things. We filmed and photographed ourselves baking, reading, and making coffee at a time when many of us were feeling the emotional effects of months spent isolated. It's natural and normal to seek distraction when we're struggling, and, in our generation, it's even more normal to post it all online. Especially when it makes us feel a bit better. But, the thirty-second long depression day vlogs; curated with the intention of romanticising our everyday lives, may be romanticising a bit more than that.
If you're old enough to have been active on Tumblr back in the early 2010's, this might sound familiar.
I remember scrolling endlessly through my Tumblr feed at the age of fourteen; firmly obsessed with the platform (as many of my friends at the time were), and hooked on the aesthetic that dominated my screen.
It began as girls with long hair and skater skirts, tattoos, photos taken in poor lighting with Blackberry camera phones. But it wasn't long before my feed shifted into darker territory.
The GIFs of bare thighs covered with fresh scars, and the sad quotes layered over monochrome images of girls smoking or rain-soaked pavements. The platform was filled with melancholy depression blogs; featuring blurry, low-quality images of breakdowns, and slow music that would become a trigger for many. And who can forget about #thinspo?
Over the last few years, the Tumblr scene has transitioned from quick, explicit GIFs into the professional quality videos on platforms such as TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. They're the trending, younger siblings of the sites that came before them; which older Gen-Z and young Millennials might've used to anonymously post and share. Now, in 2021, it's the likes of TikTok that dominates the new generations' use.
On the one hand, social media can provide us with safe spaces, information (providing you check their sources), and understanding individuals we might not find elsewhere. This is especially true for younger users, who are 77% more likely to use the internet for information or support.
There are many possible reasons for this - the stigma and misunderstandings surrounding mental health, for example. Online, it's easier to open up and to share with others. Since we don't know other users personally, and can choose to post anonymously, it's easier to detach ourselves from feelings of judgement. While accurate portrayals and open conversations on the topic of mental health are important (and necessary), it's easy for vulnerable individuals to create or idealise others online. Why? Because when we aren't romanticising our own selves or lives, we're romanticising someone else's.
This isn't exclusive to those who are doing better than we perceive ourselves to be. Even if it's compiled clips of someone’s untidy bedroom after a depressive slump, or a humorous clip describing a manic episode, we still process the rapid-fire content without even realising it. Then cast our own, nostalgic or rose-tinted veil over the top. We enjoy this content because it feels relatable, and it's a comfort to know that we're not the only ones going through these things. So, that being said, is our romanticising it really such a bad thing?
Ultimately, romanticising causes more problems as it prevents individuals from seeking out professional help. It's a concept known as 'learned helplessness’: a state of mind that allows a person to believe that they cannot control the situation, even if they want to or when opportunities do arise. It blurs the lines between ‘personality’ and ‘mental illness’; suddenly depression becomes your identity, and you begin to forget who you were before you were a 'depressed person.' After all, we might've been made to think that it's what makes us beautiful, or unique, and allows us to feel included in these online circles.
Young people are particularly vulnerable to this, with adolescents aged 12 to 17 years old having the highest rate of major depressive episodes (14.4%), followed by young adults of 18 to 25 years old (13.8%) - many of whom are unable to receive support or guidance - so it's only natural for them to utilise romanticisation and social media as coping mechanisms.
Feeling our feelings can be difficult and unpleasant, and grappling with our mental health isn't easy either. It's a struggle that many people dismiss or disregard, and one that's hard to deal with on a daily basis. So, we distort the realities to make them seem cute, aesthetic, or romantic in order to make the experience less scary, isolating, or lonely.
By romanticising our bad brain days, we're able to reduce our stress for a short time. This is due to the reward pathways in our brains, which light up in response to certain stimuli or behaviours (e.g. substance abuse, self-harm, or other self-destructive practices), and increase the release of dopamine. Often known as a 'chemical messenger,' Dopamine plays a role in feelings of pleasure, euphoria, and enhanced motivation. Sounds nice, huh?
Well, eventually this wears off, and we're back to square-one.
We all need mental health days - they're a chance to rest, reset or check in with ourselves. But do these days occur more frequently than you'd like, and do you often look back on them with a distorted view? Do you find yourself leaning into the sad girl/boy aesthetic? Or feel better after you post a nice TikTok of your depression day?
That's not to say everyone who posts content is participating in this. For many of us, we do genuinely enjoy creative projects. The issue arises from our perception of these videos or images, and what we might be unknowingly projecting onto them.
It's important to remember that even if you feel alone, you aren't.
We're bombarded with so much content on a daily basis that it can be easy to forget the realities. How, just because their video or image was pretty, it doesn't mean their day was.
Perhaps it's a good idea to log off from social media when you feel yourself slipping, (easier said than done, I know). If you have a tendency to lean on online content to make yourself feel less isolated, then finding or forming a support network with people whom you trust will be a massive help - especially if you're unable to afford therapy.
It's ok to talk about it, or to post content if that's what you genuinely enjoy; just be careful how you present it, and be aware of why you might be doing it.
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For a list of mental health support services and crisis lines, go to:
Time to Change - https://www.time-to-change.org.uk/mental-health-and-stigma/help-and-support
by Claire Hussey
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