We’re Drowning in Labels: A Psychologist’s View on the Internet’s Love Affair with a Diagnosis

Scroll for five minutes, just five and you’ll likely encounter it.

“5 signs you’re actually autistic.”

“This one trait means you have ADHD.”

“How to identify your attachment style.”

"How to spot a narcissist."

The internet has become a psychological mirror, constantly inviting us to look at

ourselves and decide what’s “wrong.” As a psychologist, I see both the appeal and

the quiet damage this trend can cause.

So let’s talk about what’s really going on.

Psychological language has escaped the clinic and gone mainstream, and that’s not

inherently bad. In fact, there are real upsides:

- People feel less alone

- Mental health conversations are less stigmatised

- Some individuals are finally finding language for experiences that were

previously dismissed

When a post says “This explains me”, it can feel profoundly validating. Humans are

meaning-making creatures. Labels promise clarity, belonging, and relief: Oh, this

isn’t a personal failure. There’s a reason.

But this can come as a double edge sword when the internet, well let’s just say

nuance is not the internet’s strong suit. But psychological diagnoses were never

designed to be bite-sized, aesthetic, or universally relatable. They’re based on:

- Patterns across time

- Context and impairment

- Differential diagnosis

- Clinical judgment

- Structured assessment

Online content, however, thrives on relatability and engagement, not accuracy. To go

viral, a post must apply to as many people as possible. So normal human

experience: overthinking, emotional sensitivity, distractibility, social fatigue, are

reframed as symptoms. And well feeling exhausted, disconnected, reactive, or

unfocused is not evidence of pathology, it’s often a reasonable response to

unreasonable circumstances. But on the internet psychological language has

become the dominant way we explain distress, discomfort, and difference.

When every negative internal experience is treated as diagnostic evidence, we

quietly lose an important truth: not all pain is pathological, and not all pain needs a

clinical explanation.

One of the unintended consequences of label-heavy discourse is the idea that

mental health equals emotional comfort.

- If you’re regulated, you should feel calm.

- If you’re healed, things shouldn’t hurt.

- If therapy is “working,” discomfort should go away.

This simply isn’t how human psychology works.

Growth is often uncomfortable. Change is destabilising. Meaningful relationships

involve disappointment, rupture, and repair. Living according to values sometimes

means tolerating anxiety, grief, or uncertainty rather than eliminating it.

When we pathologize discomfort, we send the message that negative experiences

are inherently bad for us and something to be avoided, diagnosed, or neutralised.

In reality, many difficult experiences are part of the human experience.

Now don’t get me wrong, yes sometimes these things can very much be indication of

a specific label, but again to diagnose we need nuance.

Take concentration for example. One person might be struggling to focus because

their workplace is chaotic, expectations keep shifting, and there’s a constant low-

level fear about job security. In that context, poor concentration is probably because

their nervous system is doing exactly what it was designed to do under stress. That’s

very different from a long-standing, across-the-board pattern that’s been there for

years.

When we skip that distinction, we flatten complex human experiences into something

overly simple and often inaccurate.

When we focus too heavily on what label fits, we often stop asking:

- What happened to you?

- What’s going on in your life right now?

- What do you need?

- What’s helping and what isn’t?

Psychology isn’t just about naming patterns. It’s about understanding meaning,

context, and change. Two people can share a diagnosis and need completely different support. A person without a diagnosis can be struggling profoundly.

Labels don’t capture that.

So, where does that leave us. Well, if something you read online opens a door to

deeper self-understanding, that’s valuable. I definitely hope you don’t reject mental

health content entirely (please don’t). Instead, I encourage a shift in how you use it.

Try asking:

- “Does this describe a pattern over time, or a moment?”

- “Is this behaviour impairing my life or just uncomfortable?”

- “What context might explain this response?”

- “Does this content I'm viewing invite curiosity, or certainty?”

And hey, if something is going on for you, if a particular experience, pattern, or label

keeps coming up don’t ignore it, but don’t rush to define yourself by it either. Talk to

someone. Sit with it in a space that allows nuance. Ask questions. Talk to a

professional. Explore what it might mean, how it fits (or doesn’t), and what’s actually

helpful for you.

Labels can be part of that conversation but they’re a starting point, not the whole

story.