Mental health care has come a long way, but let’s face it – we still have miles to go. As someone who has lived with schizophrenia and worked as both a clinician and peer, I’ve seen this system from every angle. And honestly? The language we use and the way we think about mental health often do more harm than good.
Let me take you back to my time at Binghamton University. I wasn’t just battling my diagnosis—I was fighting the institution itself. Even though services for students existed, they felt more like checkboxes than genuine support systems. I remember struggling through application processes and disciplinary actions that felt more punitive than helpful. My reality as a student with schizophrenia wasn’t reflected in the support I was receiving.
Where We Are: The System’s Shortcomings
The mental health system isn’t broken because people don’t care. It’s broken because it was built to treat symptoms, not people. And while clinicians mean well, the labels we use—“schizophrenic,” “bipolar,” “borderline”—strip away the humanity of those we’re trying to help.
Think about it: when you were a kid, staying up all night might have been seen as quirky. But if you have a mental health diagnosis and do the same thing as an adult, suddenly you’re “manic.” The same behaviors are judged differently based on whether or not you have that label.
It’s not that diagnoses are useless. They can open doors to treatment and support. But they shouldn’t define who we are.
The Danger of Diagnosis Overload
Here’s a question I’ve asked myself many times: When is it okay to feel sad if you have depression? Or excited if you’re bipolar?
Too often, any strong emotion gets chalked up to a symptom. This constant surveillance of our own feelings leads to one thing: more hospitalizations, more meds, and more time stuck in the system.
I call it the revolving door. People cycle in and out of care, never quite getting what they need because the focus is always on the diagnosis – not the person behind it.
What’s the Solution?
It starts with community.
I didn’t make it through my toughest times alone. Family, friends, and even some professionals stood by me, making sure I didn’t fall through the cracks. I call this kind of support “too big to fail.” When you have enough people in your corner, the odds of being forgotten or ignored shrink dramatically.
But not everyone is so lucky. I’ve met patients in hospitals with no visitors, no support systems, and no homes to return to after discharge. For them, the system feels less like help and more like a prison.
Creating Change at the Local Level
We need to rethink how mental health care looks at the community level. Colleges, clinics, and social services must work together, not in isolation. Instead of relying solely on therapists and doctors, let’s tap into the power of peer support—people who’ve been through it and can walk alongside others on their journey.
And for the love of all things holy, we have to stop isolating people over small infractions. When I was hospitalized, trading snacks with another patient could land you in solitary dining. These rigid, dehumanizing rules do nothing but reinforce shame.
The Right to Fail
One of the most radical ideas I’ve come to embrace is the right to fail.
People with mental health conditions should have the freedom to make mistakes without losing their autonomy. Right now, many patients live under constant surveillance, with their freedoms tied to whether or not they adhere to treatment. This creates fear, not healing.
So, where do we go from here?
•Open the dialogue. Colleges and communities must actively engage mental health professionals and peer advocates to reshape how support systems function.
•Invest in peer support. Peers bridge the gap between professional care and lived experience, offering a kind of empathy that textbooks can’t teach.
•Stop policing emotions. We need to normalize feelings, even when they’re intense, and separate them from pathology.
Mental health care should be about building people up, not managing them like case files. It’s time to reimagine a system that prioritizes dignity, autonomy, and real community.
If you’ve ever felt like the system wasn’t built for you – you’re not alone. And together, we can start rebuilding it from the ground up.
Author Info:
Max E. Guttman
Max E. Guttman is the owner of Mindful Living LCSW, PLLC, a private mental health practice in Yonkers, New York.
