Growing up in a traditional household, I always felt the weight of expectations pressing down on me—whether it was the pressure to excel in school, to choose a career that made my parents proud, or to live a life that aligned with their ideals. But somewhere along the way, I realized that my dreams and mental well-being didn't align with what my family or society expected from me. It wasn't easy, and some days it still isn't.
Mental health is often misunderstood in traditional cultures. We're told to "be strong," "power through," or "not talk about our problems outside the family." Talking about emotions—let alone therapy—is a foreign concept in these households. Mental health is either minimized or treated as a weakness, something to be ashamed of. But here's the truth: mental health is natural and just as important as physical health.
The Silent Struggle
In many traditional households, there's this idea that success is defined by how well you meet society's standards. That meant navigating the fear of failing, not just in my career but as a daughter, a community member, and a person. The unspoken message is clear: anything less than perfect is unacceptable, and that pressure can suffocate.
I wanted to follow my dreams to live a life that made me happy, but I was constantly torn between two worlds—the one my parents had envisioned for me and the one I wanted to create for myself. For years, I felt like I had to choose between making them and society happy or living authentically for myself. It was—and still is—a constant battle to prove that mental health matters and that my well-being is just as valuable as the external markers of success they hold so dearly.
The Weight of Perfection
I grew up feeling pressure, stress, and anxiety to be this perfect person. My parents seemed to be the ideal members of society—my dad, with his master's degree in engineering, was fit, good-looking, and excelled in his studies. My mom was presented to me by my grandparents as the perfect wife, daughter, and member of society. She was beautiful, fair-skinned, and always skinny, traits that were held in high regard, especially within Indian culture.
It was hard constantly living up to their expectations and simultaneously trying to be my mom and dad. On top of that, my older brother—the golden child—was fair, skinny, and excelled in his studies. Then, there was me—the chubby, darker-skinned child, almost like the black sheep of the family. From both my grandmothers, I had pressure to be the perfect housewife and daughter, and by the age of five, I had already learned to cook meals and take care of a household. After all, as my grandmothers would say, "What would your in-laws think if you don't know how to run a household?"
I was constantly mocked for my weight, always being told by society and family, including extended relatives, what I could do to lose it. I felt ashamed—not just because of the comments, but because my parents and grandparents seemed ashamed of me. My extended family even reprimanded them for my appearance. As much as this hurt, I don't entirely blame them. They were raised in a society with the same pressures and expectations. Sometimes, I wonder how they must have felt. Did they experience the same stress, anxiety, and depression I do now, or was it just their norm?
The Cultural Stigma
Mental health stigma in traditional households isn't just a family issue; it's a cultural one. In many of these communities, mental health is seen as a taboo topic, and seeking help from a therapist or counsellor is often considered a sign of failure. "What will people think?" becomes the driving force behind every decision, often at the expense of your peace of mind.
The reality is that mental health conditions affect 1 in 5 people globally, and yet, in our communities, it's vastly under-discussed. Studies show that individuals from traditional, minority cultures are significantly less likely to seek mental health support due to shame, judgment, or the fear of being ostracized. The fear of being labelled weak or incapable keeps so many of us silent, and it's time to start changing that.
Conversations with Traditional Parents: Breaking the Cycle
Talking to my parents about mental health wasn't easy. I faced resistance, disbelief, and, at times, outright denial. But I knew that if I wanted to live a life that felt authentic to me, I had to have these conversations, no matter how uncomfortable. I didn't realize then that these conversations weren't just for my sake—they were for theirs, too.
As I started explaining mental health to my parents, something unexpected happened. They began opening up about their struggles—the pent-up pressure, stress, anxiety, and even PTSD from things they had gone through in their lives. Yes, sometimes the way they were brought up was indirectly, almost as a way of them using it against me. Making statements such as "You don't think we've gone through things or felt the pressures," I learned through that that they, too, feel all these things; they just never learned how to express them. What I had always assumed was a generational disconnect was unresolved trauma that they'd never spoken about. These conversations didn't just help me convey my feelings—they brought us closer than we had ever been. My parents eventually sought help and began bettering themselves after years of silently suffering. Yes, I will admit, it wasn't to the complete content that I felt they needed help, but it was still something. Admitting was already a huge step.
Understand that parents in their 40s and 50s are often like children when it comes to mental health. Scientifically, the brain regresses as we age; sometimes, it takes time for them to understand genuinely and put their guard down. But that doesn't mean the conversation isn't worth having. It can be life-changing—not only for you but also for them.
If you're in a similar situation, here are a few things I've learned along the way:
Start with Compassion: I found it helpful to approach the topic gently, with compassion and patience. Explain what mental health means and why it's essential, using examples they can understand.
Use Analogies: Comparing mental health to physical health worked wonders for me. I explained that just like the body can get sick and need treatment, so does the mind. This analogy helped them realize that mental well-being is as valid as physical well-being.
Highlight the Need for Change: I emphasized that we live in a different time, where societal expectations must evolve. I explained how if we don't acknowledge mental health, we risk passing the same stigma and struggles onto the next generation.
Prepare for Resistance: Expect that they might not understand at first. There were times when my conversations seemed to go nowhere. But consistency is key. Keep showing up, explaining, and, most importantly, standing up for yourself.
Find Allies: Sometimes, parents won't understand until they see others embracing mental health awareness. Find family members or community leaders who can advocate for the importance of mental health, helping reinforce your point.
Be Persistent: Don't give up after the first attempt. It took me 4 to 5 years of consistently talking, fighting, and explaining for my parents to understand and accept mental health fully. Eventually, we reached a point of mutual understanding, but it wasn't easy. Stay committed, and know that they can realize how crucial mental well-being is with time.
Know When to Walk Away: One of the hardest lessons I learned was recognizing when a conversation went south. No matter how hard I tried to explain what was going on in my head, there were times when things escalated into screaming matches, leaving me in tears. I wish I had known when to step away before my anger got the best of me instead of letting it become a heated argument. Walking away lets you calm down and return to the conversation when both sides are more open to listening.
Choose Your Battles: During the early stages of trying to explain mental health to my parents, it felt like we were constantly fighting—about everything and anything. Arguments would escalate from serious conversations to who would take out the garbage because we weren't used to expressing our feelings or talking about why we were mad. Instead, we just fought. Over time, I realized not everything needed to be a battle. I had to learn that this wasn't a one-time race but a slow and steady marathon. Picking my battles wisely helped me focus on the bigger picture instead of getting caught up in every little disagreement.
Know Your Worth and Feelings: There were times when I got pulled back into my parents' and society's ways because that's what I was used to. I often felt guilty for fighting for my mental well-being and pursuing my dreams. But something that kept me grounded was constantly reminding myself that I was worth it. My dreams and feelings are valid—more than what society or anyone else wanted me to be. Embracing that truth helped me stand firm in my decisions and push forward, even when guilt and pressure weighed heavily on me.
Choosing Yourself Over Expectations
Eventually, I had to choose to live a life that made my parents and society happy or select the path that made me happy. And I chose me. That decision didn't come without conflict or guilt, but I realized I could no longer let the fear of judgment and failure dictate my life. Mental health isn't something we can compromise on, nor are our lives and happiness—it's the foundation of everything else. Without it, no amount of success or external validation can make you truly happy.
Choosing yourself doesn't mean you're abandoning your family or culture. It means you're acknowledging your worth, your dreams, and your right to mental well-being. This is what empowerment looks like—knowing you don't have to sacrifice yourself to meet someone else's standards.
Final Thoughts: You Are Not Alone
I want anyone reading this to know that you're not alone. If you've ever felt the weight of cultural expectations pushing you down, know that your mental health and happiness are worth fighting for. You don't have to live your life in fear of disappointing others. You deserve to live authentically, follow your path, and care for your mental well-being, even when it goes against traditional norms.
Change starts with these difficult conversations, with breaking the silence around mental health in our communities. It's not easy, but it's necessary. I chose myself, and I hope you do too.
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