
Speaking publicly about my mental health online has been, for the most part, rewarding. I’ve made lifelong friendships with people who truly understand what I’m going through and have had opportunities to make a difference to the conversation around something that has impacted my life so deeply.
But can we take a moment to talk about something that has been relentlessly and consistently a proper pain in the ass? That is the hundreds (maybe even thousands) of little bits of unsolicited advice I’ve had from total strangers on the Internet who think that they know my mental health needs better than me or the medical professionals in my life.
I’m lucky. I’m connected to some awesome people – the real thought leaders of the mental health community and people who I’ve been dizzyingly in awe of. I have the chance to share my story with the people who follow me and beyond. Not everyone gets the chance to feel heard. I know that I am lucky.
And I’m grateful. I am! I enjoy talking about mental health and recovery and self care more than just about any other topic. It’s so nice to properly connect with people; to skip the chitchat and hear how someone is really doing or to open up about my hopes and dreams. And every now and then I get to have a conversation that changes me.
I’m not always looking for advice
I just sometimes wish that I could say stuff about how I’m feeling and the conversation could be just that, y’know. I could express myself without it being seen as an open invitation for people to tell me what I’m doing wrong, what I could be doing better or what worked for them.
That, for once, my feelings could just be heard and validated and shared with my community. And that nobody would tell me to go for a walk or to meditate or ask me when I last saw my doctor. That nobody would project their diagnosis or treatment plan onto me. That I could just say stuff and be heard. But that isn’t the Internet, is it?

And, here’s the thing, I know that it’s usually born from good intentions. I know that people just want to share what’s worked for them. I know that it usually comes from a place of kindness. It does.
But not always. Not all of it. Sometimes people tell me that I’d feel better if I stopped talking about it. People often respond by telling me to try to forget about (or forgive) my abuser. I don’t find that helpful and I don’t think it’s kind.
I’ve had some really bad advice online
I’ve been told that my diagnosis is wrong, that I should lose weight or that my partner will leave me because I’ve been sexually assaulted and am “damaged goods”.
More than once, and often at my most vulnerable, someone has told me that my only option is to die.
(Here’s 100 Reasons to Stay Alive for anyone who needs it)
And this is on top of all the nonsense and trolling that comes my way for just being a woman on the Internet. It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted.
It’s a spectrum, of course. Some of the advice is harmless, some of it is thoughtful and some of it is just mundane and predictable. But it compounds and it adds up. And, just because you can see it coming, doesn’t mean that it isn’t taking its toll.
When it happens day in day out, even the advice that would otherwise seem harmless feels toxic.
I just want to express myself
I just wish that sometimes I could say “today is a bad day” without being told to do some yoga or have a 7 hour bath or down a bottle of CBD oil or whatever self care thing is trending today.
If I am distressed and talking about it, that’s a good thing. We need to encourage people to open up more, not silence them with a solution. Who cares if I haven’t done all of my squats today, don’t you want to just celebrate the fact that I have chosen to stop internalising my pain?
Don’t you want to chat to me about what’s really going on in our lives without me trying to send you off to the gym? Stay here and talk to me for a bit. Let’s have one of those real conversations that might make us both feel less alone for a bit. Please.
Because, when you send unsolicited mental health advice to someone who is struggling, what you are really saying – what they are hearing – is this:
You are not taking enough responsibility for your recovery and it is your fault that you are unwell because you haven’t tried to do things the way I do things.
So, please, before you offer your advice to a stranger on the Internet, stop and ask yourself whether they have asked you for it. Because, yes, it’s good to share the things you’ve learned with the people who need to hear it. But we’re all really really tired. And, when we want to hear it, we’ll ask.
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This is helpful. I must say I have often been one trying to provide encouragement or even sometimes advice on social media. I never really saw it from this perspective, so thank you.
Paul
Hi Paul, I hope it’s clear that I’m talking about unsolicited advice and unsolicited advice only. Sharing information, tips and resources online is positive and powerful and people will engage when they are ready to. I’ve definitely given unsolicited advice myself but, since being on the receiving end of an overwhelming amount of it, I’ve really tried not to!
This resonates with me and the work I do with school age girls and their parents. I tell parents they need to ask permission before offering advice to their daughters. As my niece said about her mother, ‘I tell you about my school day not because you need to know, but because I need to tell you.’
Andrew
Hi Andrew,
This is interesting to me and I’d love to know how you frame this so that parents and guardians understand that you’re helping them with communication rather than telling them how to raise their children. Does it generally go well? I’m sure it would be useful for anyone reading (including me) to know how you approach this!!!
Thank you so much for voicing this, Anneli! It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot, as someone with mental health issues who uses social media to talk about it all (I also blog about it).
Sometimes I get unsolicited advice – or even people questioning my diagnosis. It’s upsetting and invalidating.
And sometimes I catch myself on the verge of giving unsolicited advice and have to bite my tongue (or typing fingers… or whatever!) Even if I feel like I have a “really good suggestion”, if they haven’t asked for it then I might make them feel upset and invalidated, too.
Other times I get asked for advice and I’m wary to go too far in giving it, in case I step over an invisible line and unintentionally cause harm.
It’s all a bit of a minefield, in some ways! But I think the main thing to remember is to treat other people respectfully and never try to impose our opinions on them. I’m horrified at some of the things people have said to you (but sadly not surprised, having spent some time on social media!) I’m glad that you’ve also found a supportive community there 🙂
Kate x
It can be a minefield yes and it’s so difficult because most people do have good intentions, as I said in the post, but you also get regular toxic positivity, etc.
Thank you so much for commenting, nice to know someone else feels the same!! xx