The problem with ‘therapy speak’: We need to talk about how we talk

At first, I found this shift liberating. Therapy-speak offered a means for me to articulate emotions I had previously struggled to. It felt reassuring to label discomfort, to say “that crossed a boundary” rather than stumble through inarticulate unease. But the more I relied on these words, the more I began to interrogate them. Were they truly facilitating self-awareness or merely furnishing a polished veneer for emotional evasion?

I’ve seen relationships unravel over allegations of emotional abuse when, in truth, there had merely been miscommunication. I’ve heard delayed responses characterised as “neglect”, and moments of awkwardness recast as “toxicity”. These terms are seductive. They offer neat diagnoses for life’s messier moments. But often, the clarity they provide is cosmetic, an illusion of control over what remains fundamentally human and ambiguous.

What is most disconcerting is how seamlessly this language aligns with the culture of hyper-individualism I am growing up immersed in. We’re instructed to “prioritise ourselves,” to “protect our peace,” to sever anything that doesn’t align with our personal trajectory. Social media transforms this ethos into a spectacle. Spotify playlists curated for me carry titles like “My life is a movie: Every main character needs their soundtrack”. It was amusing until I realised how naturally I’d begun to cast myself as the protagonist of every narrative. And when we fashion ourselves as the lead, it becomes all too easy to assign supporting characters, and antagonists, accordingly.

Therapy-speak provides the ideal vocabulary for this self-stylised performance. A differing perspective becomes “gaslighting”. Honest feedback is reframed as “emotional unsafety”. Discomfort becomes diagnostic — a signal not to reflect, but to retreat. Yet not all that unsettles us is harmful. Some of the most necessary growth emerges from precisely those moments we’re now being taught to pathologise.

To be clear, I am not arguing for the erasure of therapeutic language. It has illuminated real trauma, given voice to the voiceless, and helped many find meaning in distress. Some relationships are corrosive. Some patterns do necessitate boundaries. But when every tension is treated as symptomatic, when every emotional response is pathologised, we risk distorting reality. Not every conflict is traumatic. Not every mistake is abuse. And not every emotion requires a clinical label.

Authentic relationships are inherently untidy. They resist categorisation. They demand effort, ambiguity, and discomfort. But they are also where our most meaningful growth resides. I don’t want to sacrifice that richness for a glossary that feels contrived, convenient, and hollow. I don’t want to distill my connections into a spreadsheet of “red flags”.

We don’t need better terminology. We need better conversations.

The writer is a student based in Mumbai