As a therapist, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the role of social media in my life and work. It’s undeniable that social media is powerful—ideas can spread widely and resonate deeply, and it can be a space where people feel seen and validated. But I also see its limitations, especially when it comes to something as nuanced as therapy.
Therapy is about exploring the grey areas—the messy, contradictory, and deeply human parts of life. It’s a slow, collaborative process that thrives on understanding context and building a relationship. Social media, on the other hand, tends to flatten complexity. Infographics and videos often reduce rich ideas into bite-sized content designed to grab your attention. It’s not that these posts are bad; they can be helpful and validating in the moment. But they can’t hold the depth or nuance that’s essential in therapy.
I know this from my own experience as a long-time social media user. Since I was a teenager, I’ve turned to platforms like Instagram and YouTube to learn, connect, and distract myself. Social media has introduced me to new ideas and offered moments of validation that felt important at the time. But it’s also a space where I’ve taken things out of context or accepted them at face value without much critical thinking.
The way algorithms work only reinforces this. Social media shows you what you already engage with, creating an echo chamber that reflects your existing worldview. This isn’t always bad—it can feel good to see content that aligns with your experiences. But it’s also limiting. Therapy, by contrast, isn’t about reinforcing what you already think or feel. It’s about gently challenging you, helping you see new perspectives, and offering a mirror to the parts of yourself you might not even be aware of.
Recently, I’ve taken a step back from most social media. In the downtime I used to spend scrolling, I’ve been experimenting with reading Substack (basically social media for essays) One essay I read about trauma was really interesting to me and I was about to share it with a friend, until I read the comments that I realised how much I’d missed. The thoughtful critiques and differing perspectives in the comments section opened up layers of the discussion I hadn’t noticed.
This experience reminded me of something important: social media is a reflection of human behaviour, and humans are inherently messy. We misinterpret, defend, accuse, and react emotionally. These tendencies have always been part of how we communicate—whether through letters, newspaper articles, or in-person debates. The difference with social media is the speed and scale at which this happens, amplified by algorithms designed to prioritise engagement over nuance.
What’s fascinating—and frustrating—is how social media magnifies both the best and worst of us. It can give a voice to experiences that are hard to articulate, helping people feel less alone. I’ve seen posts that beautifully capture emotions I’ve struggled with, and they’ve helped me feel more connected to myself and others. But I’ve also seen how easy it is to weaponise those same ideas, using them to shut down accountability or reinforce an unhelpful narrative.
As a therapist, I know that real change happens in the slow, unglamorous work of being human. It’s not something that can be packaged into a viral video or infographic. Healing often requires sitting with discomfort, exploring the full context of your life, and allowing yourself to be seen and known—messy parts and all.
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