Therapy has become a mainstream part of life. More people than ever—especially teens and young adults—are seeking help for their mental and emotional struggles. That’s a good thing. But as therapy culture grows, so does confusion about what therapy is actually meant to do.
Lately, I’ve been hearing more skepticism from parents and professionals alike: “Is therapy helping kids grow—or is it teaching them to see themselves as broken?” “Are we building resilience—or reinforcing fragility?”
It’s a fair question. The truth is, therapy can do either—depending on how it’s practiced. Good therapy doesn’t impose a worldview. It doesn’t reinforce labels or diagnoses as identities. At its best, therapy fosters curiosity, emotional insight, and personal agency. Therapy isn’t about telling people what to think. It’s about helping them learn how to think for themselves.
People come to therapy because something hurts. Maybe it’s anxiety that won’t go away, relationships that keep falling apart, or a sense of emptiness they can’t explain. A good therapist doesn’t rush to label them or offer quick advice. Instead, we help them make meaning of their experience. We ask, “What’s happening here? Where does this come from? How is this pattern showing up again?”
That kind of exploration isn’t about staying stuck in the past—it’s about freeing the present. The more we understand why we do what we do, the more choices we have in how we live.
Insight is powerful. It allows us to move beyond survival strategies that once made sense but no longer serve us. And it opens the door to deeper connection with ourselves and others.
There’s a growing narrative that therapy is creating a generation of fragile, overly self-focused individuals. That people are being taught to see themselves as victims, always on the lookout for whom or what to blame. And while I don’t believe that’s the intention of most therapists, I do understand the concern.
Good therapy should strengthen people, not make them more dependent. It should help clients build internal resources, not rely on external validation. Good therapy, for example, would focus on developing a more integrated, flexible sense of self—one that can tolerate discomfort, manage uncertainty, and bounce back from setbacks.
The role of a therapist is not to fix or to dictate. It’s to witness, to guide, and to challenge. We’re not here to tell someone what to believe or how to live. We’re here to help them uncover their own truths and build their own paths forward.
That might sound subtle, but it matters. In a world full of loud opinions and social pressures, therapy should be one of the few places where someone can show up without being told who they’re supposed to be.
That said, therapy isn’t immune to missteps. When therapists get too caught up in a specific ideology, or when buzzwords replace real understanding, therapy can veer into prescriptive territory. There’s a danger in assuming we know what’s best for someone based on a diagnosis, identity, or trauma history—especially if we forget to stay curious about the person in front of us.
Sometimes, in an effort to validate someone’s pain, therapy can become about affirmation instead of reflection. But healing isn’t about being affirmed at all times. It’s about being seen fully, even in the messy or contradictory parts of ourselves.
Therapy shouldn’t tell people what’s true. It should help them discover what’s true for them.
Therapy is not a trend. It’s not a product or a slogan. At its core, it’s a quiet, relational process that invites people to slow down and listen inward. In a world obsessed with performance and productivity, that kind of space is rare—and deeply valuable.
Insight doesn’t come with noise. It comes with patience. It comes with honesty. And when therapy is done right, it doesn’t indoctrinate—it illuminates.
And sometimes, that’s all someone needs to begin healing: not answers, not instructions—but a light turned on in a room they didn’t know they could enter.