This shift didn’t come out of nowhere. We grew up in a world where mental health conversations became mainstream. Therapy stopped being whispered about and started being normalized. If older generations avoided talking about feelings, we built entire group chats around them.
Image credit : Freepik | Therapy is more normalised than ever, but it’s still expensive and not always accessible
Therapy Language Is Just Normal Now
Words that once lived strictly inside a psychologist’s office now show up in everyday conversation. Boundaries. Gaslighting. Trauma response. Emotional regulation. Attachment styles.
Books like Attached made attachment theory accessible beyond academia, and social media did the rest. Suddenly, identifying unhealthy patterns became a sign of growth. Saying “I need space” became healthy instead of dramatic. For us, expressing feelings directly isn’t oversharing, it’s maturity. We don’t glorify emotional suppression. We’d rather say, “That hurt me,” than let resentment simmer.
The Group Chat as a Support Circle
Our group chats function like mini therapy rooms. Bad date? Send screenshots. Situationship confusion? Emergency analysis. Family drama? Voice notes incoming.
Instead of internalizing distress, we process it together. Friends help identify patterns we might miss. They validate our feelings. They remind us of our worth when we forget it.
Crying in front of each other isn’t embarrassing, it’s bonding. Vulnerability builds trust. We don’t want surface-level friendships, we want depth. But when every hangout turns into emotional heavy lifting, it can get exhausting. Friendship isn’t meant to replace therapy, and sometimes the line blurs.
Image credit : Freepik | Treating friendship like a therapy-lite space isn’t inherently unhealthy.
Boundaries Over Blind Loyalty
Loyalty used to mean sticking around no matter what. Now, it means respecting each other’s limits. If someone repeatedly crosses a boundary, distancing ourselves feels like self-preservation, not betrayal. “Protect your peace” isn’t just a caption, it’s a mindset. We don’t romanticize toxic dynamics in the name of history. We value emotional safety over nostalgia.
At the same time, not every disagreement is manipulation. Not every flaw is a personality disorder. The language of healing can sometimes turn normal conflict into something clinical. The challenge is knowing when to use therapy terms, and when to simply communicate.
Emotional Labour Is on Our Radar
We’re hyper-aware of emotional labor in friendships. Who always checks in first? Who listens but never gets listened to? Who’s the “therapist friend”?
That awareness can be empowering. We’re more likely to ask, “Do you have the capacity to talk right now?” before unloading something heavy. We try to respect each other’s emotional bandwidth.
But constantly tracking balance can also make friendships feel transactional. When someone feels like they’re always the support system and never supported, burnout follows.
Unlike professional therapy, there’s no time limit, no structured boundaries, no trained mediator. We’re figuring it out in real time — with love, but without a manual.
Social Media Made Vulnerability Visible
Platforms like Instagram and YouTube amplified this emotional openness. Healing journeys are documented. Breakdowns are captioned. Therapy quotes are aesthetic.
Shows like Euphoria normalised messy, complicated feelings on screen, while creators normalized discussing anxiety and burnout online. Emotional transparency became part of our identity.
The upside? Less shame. Fewer secrets. More honesty. The downside? Sometimes we process publicly before we process privately. Friends become both support systems and audiences. Everything is immediate. There’s little space to sit with a feeling before sharing it.
Why It Makes Sense
We came of age during instability, economic uncertainty, climate anxiety, social unrest, a pandemic that disrupted some of our most formative years. Traditional support systems didn’t always feel stable.
Therapy is more normalised than ever, but it’s still expensive and not always accessible. So we lean on each other. Friendship becomes the first line of emotional triage. Before booking an appointment, we text the group chat. Before journaling, we call a friend.
That doesn’t mean we think friends can replace professionals. It means we crave connection while we navigate everything else.
Image credit : Freepik | We don’t want shallow connections. We want to feel seen
Finding the Balance
Treating friendship like a therapy-lite space isn’t inherently unhealthy. Emotional depth builds closeness. Honest conversations prevent silent resentment. Being able to say “I’m not okay” without shame is powerful. The key is balance.
We can hold space for each other without absorbing everything. We can validate feelings without diagnosing. We can set boundaries without isolating ourselves at the first sign of discomfort. At its healthiest, our friendships look like mutual care, not codependence. Support, not emotional exhaustion. Accountability, not constant analysis.
We don’t want shallow connections. We want to feel seen. We want friendships that are safe enough for honesty and strong enough for growth. Maybe turning friendships into therapy-lite spaces isn’t about replacing therapy at all. Maybe it’s about refusing to settle for emotional distance.
And in a world that often feels overwhelming, choosing to show up for each other, fully, honestly, intentionally, might be one of the healthiest things we’ve learned to do.
