Teenagers increasingly use terminology borrowed from mental health settings—such as "triggering," "gaslighting," and "boundaries"—in everyday family conversations, leaving many parents bewildered about how to interpret and respond to these terms. According to BBC News, mental health professionals in the UK and US are offering guidance to parents struggling to bridge this communication gap with their adolescents.
Carla Hoskins, a mother of six from Hertfordshire, finds herself regularly hearing accusations of gaslighting when she asks her 15 and 18-year-old sons to complete chores or revise for exams. Across the Atlantic, Shannon Salvatoriello, a parent of four from New Jersey, reports similar experiences with her 14 and 17-year-old sons, describing herself as "feeling very confused" by their language choices. Both mothers suspect their children encountered these terms through social media rather than through formal therapeutic settings.
The shift in how young people articulate their struggles reflects a broader pattern. New York psychiatrist Dr Suzanne Garfinkle-Crowell has documented a significant change in the way adolescents frame their difficulties—moving away from straightforward emotional descriptions toward diagnostic labeling. Where teenagers once might have said, "I'm not getting along with my mum" or "School has gotten really challenging and I'm feeling kind of bad about myself," they now tend to say, "I have attachment issues, ADHD, and depression."
Social media serves as a primary vector for the spread of therapy-related vocabulary into everyday speech. A 2025 report cited by student publication Scot Scoop found that approximately 95% of Americans regularly encounter mental-health terms such as "trauma" or "narcissist" in their daily lives. However, a 2025 analysis published in Psychology Today revealed that most TikTok videos offering mental-health advice were misleading, potentially harmful, or created by individuals without professional qualifications.
Why are young people adopting this language?
Dr Garfinkle-Crowell identifies a critical underlying reason: many adolescents, particularly girls, feel their parents and society do not take them seriously. By reaching for medicalized language, they believe they can finally be heard and validated. "The only way to feel heard is to reach for this elevated medical language," she explains. This pattern reflects broader societal pressures on young people. In September, the head of an independent review into youth mental health told BBC News that it had become "harder to be young" now, with a documented rise in mental distress among adolescents facing economic and employment uncertainty.
What are the potential risks of this terminology?
London psychotherapist Julia Samuel raises an important concern: when young people use clinical terms such as "anxiety disorder" to describe ordinary feelings like mild distress, they may inadvertently create a self-fulfilling prophecy. "It can give them the very thing they don't want," she warns, noting that the misuse and overuse of medical terminology can actually contribute to the development of genuine disorders. She emphasizes that "it's the lack of knowledge and the overuse of the terms that can actually harm young people."
How can parents better understand their teenagers?
Both mental health professionals recommend that parents avoid arguing about the terminology their children use. Instead, Dr Garfinkle-Crowell suggests parents consider the underlying emotions behind the words. A practical technique involves thinking about ordinary emotional language that corresponds to the therapy term being used. She recommends trying phrases like, "That sounds like it could be really lonely for you. Is that part of it?" This approach demonstrates genuine interest in the teenager's experience without overreacting or dismissing their feelings.
Julia Samuel identifies listening as the most powerful tool parents possess. She recommends using "ordinary emotional language to reflect back" what teenagers are expressing, helping both parent and child understand the actual feelings beneath the clinical terminology. Rather than direct questioning, she suggests an indirect approach: parents might share their own similar experiences or bring up about themselves, avoiding the appearance of interrogation.
Shannon's experience illustrates this shift in parenting strategy. She spent several years using an authoritarian approach—"I'm your parent and I'm asking you a question and you are going to answer me"—before recognizing this method was counterproductive. When her teenagers pushed back, citing boundary violations, she initially became frustrated. However, after adjusting her approach and backing off from constant questioning, she noticed a dramatic change: her children began voluntarily sharing positive news with her, such as test scores, without being prompted.
Carla remains optimistic about her relationship with her sons despite the communication challenges. She values their openness and willingness to discuss matters with her, even when the terminology confuses her. She reflects that the closeness of their relationship may actually explain why her teenagers feel comfortable using therapy-speak with her—they treat her with the same candor they might use with a peer or therapist.
Dr Garfinkle-Crowell emphasizes that parents should not hesitate to consult mental health professionals if their child describes symptoms consistent with a diagnosed medical condition, such as anxiety disorder or clinical depression. However, she acknowledges that many parents feel as though their teenagers are "speaking a new language" and encourages them to consider the broader context driving this linguistic shift. The goal is not to dismiss or ridicule the terminology but to understand the genuine emotional needs underlying it.
