Each generation tells a different story about what it means to be well. Our ideas of mental health, how we define it, who gets to talk about it, and what we do when it falters are all shaped by science, culture, politics, and generational memory. In recent years, conversations around mental health have become more visible and more nuanced, especially among younger folk. But these shifts did not emerge in a vacuum; they are part of a larger, ongoing dialogue between generations who have coped in markedly different ways.

The Era of Endurance: Baby Boomers and Stoicism
For people who grew up before the 90s, wellness was often equated with endurance. Strength was measured not by self-awareness but by restraint, and emotions were managed quietly, if at all. Mental health was rarely discussed in public and often dismissed in private, and there was pride in carrying on, in coping without complaint. In a world marked by post-war recovery, economic survival, and political instability, resilience looked like moving on. To talk too much about one’s feelings was to risk being seen as fragile, or worse, self-indulgent.

This stoic approach served a protective function. It provided a sense of control in a world where mental illness was poorly understood and deeply stigmatized. For many, the language simply didn’t exist to articulate internal struggles. 

The Age of Awareness: Millennials and the Language of Mental Health
In contrast, younger generations have come of age in a cultural climate that emphasizes emotional awareness, personal insight, and the right to define one’s internal experience. The language of mental health is no longer confined to clinics and diagnoses; it now lives on social media, in classrooms, and in everyday conversations. Words like anxiety, trauma, attachment style, and boundaries have entered mainstream vocabulary, not as technical terms but as tools for self-understanding.

This shift has brought with it many gains. It has destigmatized therapy, empowered people to seek help sooner, and created space for voices that were long silenced. Yet, it has also introduced new challenges; in our drive to name every feeling and categorize every behavior, we risk pathologizing the ordinary struggles of being human. There is a fine line between emotional insight and over-identification with suffering; not every mood swing is a disorder, not every awkward interaction signals trauma, and not every shy person is on the spectrum. While this generation’s openness is admirable, it sometimes carries the unintended weight of self-diagnosis, of turning a quirk into identity, and discomfort into pathology. This overpathologization can create a kind of psychological fragility, where the normal challenges of development and growth are perceived as signs of brokenness.

Toward an Integrated Approach
Both ends of the spectrum reflect historical adaptations. One generation needed to harden itself to survive; the other has the space to ask deeper questions. The work now is to seek integration: to find a way to value the self-awareness of millennials and Gen-Z without losing sight of resilience, and to admire the grit of boomers without replicating their silence.

Mental health is not a static truth, but a living conversation shaped by context, culture, and need. It must allow for expression and for restraint, for diagnosis and grace, and for generational wisdom and new ways of seeing.

True collective healing begins not when we pick one approach over the other, but when we learn to see the wisdom in both. In this way, mental health becomes not only a personal journey, but an intergenerational one, a shared project of understanding what it means to be human, and how we can better care for one another across time.