“Sorry, I had to cut her off. I’m setting a boundary—she was just so toxic.”
You’ve probably heard it. You’ve probably said it. Or something like it: “That’s trauma.” “I don’t have the capacity for this today.” These phrases—once confined to counseling sessions and psych textbooks—have officially gone mainstream. Now they’re everywhere: on TikTok, in group chats, in Instagram captions from people who definitely don’t have a license to diagnose.
In many ways, this is a sign of progress. Millennials and Gen Z have done the work to normalize therapy, confront generational dysfunction and destigmatize mental health. According to a 2024 report by the Thriving Center of Psychology, 55% of Gen Z and millennials have been to therapy, and nearly two in five are planning to go this year. The vast majority—90%—believe more Americans should go to therapy. We’ve learned the vocabulary of emotional intelligence and figured out how to use it in daily life.
But somewhere along the way, we started using that vocabulary as a shield—and sometimes, as a sword. When every inconvenience is labeled “toxic” and every awkward conversation is grounds for a “boundary,” we’re no longer using therapy language for healing. We’re using it to justify avoidance.
The shift didn’t happen overnight. Mental health apps have surged in popularity. Trauma recovery is trending. TikTok therapists are drawing millions of views with 60-second breakdowns of your deepest emotional issues. As culture collectively wakes up to the psychological toll of burnout, loneliness and anxiety, it makes sense that people are reaching for any language that helps them feel more grounded. But what’s helpful in a clinical setting doesn’t always translate neatly to everyday life. And when these words get watered down—or misused entirely—they lose their power.
“I’ve seen ‘toxic’ become a catch-all for anything we don’t like or don’t want to deal with,” said psychologist Dr. Alison Cook. “But not everyone who challenges you is dangerous. Sometimes the discomfort is what helps you grow.”
Slapping a label on someone might feel empowering in the moment, but it can short-circuit the nuance that healthy relationships require—not to mention the personal responsibility.
Boundaries, for example, are essential. No one’s arguing that. But when “setting a boundary” becomes code for ghosting people, dodging accountability or cutting off every difficult person, it’s not a boundary. It’s avoidance.
Relationship counselor and author Debra Fileta says the biggest misconception about boundaries is that they’re rules for other people.
“Sometimes people think that boundaries are about telling others what to stop doing—‘Don’t call me at 4 a.m.!’—but that’s not a boundary. That’s an attempt at control,” she said. “A boundary is actually about what you’re going to do in response.”
That shift in focus—from changing others to managing yourself—is subtle but important. True boundaries aren’t demands. They’re decisions. You’re not saying, “You better not do that again.” You’re saying, “Here’s what I’m willing to do if this continues.”
And yes, setting those boundaries might come with guilt. Especially when the other person doesn’t like them.
“If someone has been benefiting from your lack of boundaries, they’re not going to be thrilled when you start enforcing them,” Fileta said. “But you can’t measure the success of a boundary by how someone else reacts.”
In other words, pushback doesn’t always mean you’re wrong. Sometimes, it means you’re finally doing something right.
Words like “unsafe,” “gaslighting,” “emotional labor” and “trauma” carry real weight in therapeutic and psychological circles. But on the internet—and increasingly in real life—they’re getting flattened. What was once language for healing is now being used to win arguments, shut people down and walk away without guilt. And sure, sometimes walking away is the healthiest option. But not every hard thing is abuse. Not every disagreement is gaslighting. Sometimes it’s just a normal part of being in relationship with other flawed humans.
There’s a difference between doing the work and just sounding like someone who has. Many of us genuinely want to grow, heal and become better humans. But growth is inconvenient. Healing takes time. And the emotional fluency we’ve picked up online can sometimes trick us into thinking we’re farther along than we really are.
“Therapy language can be incredibly helpful when it leads us into deeper self-awareness,” Cook said. “But when it becomes a way to avoid the hard parts of growth—like sitting with discomfort or owning your role in conflict—it loses its value.”
We don’t need to cancel therapy speak. Emotional intelligence is a good thing. Normalizing mental health is a good thing. Learning how to communicate your needs is a good thing. But if you find yourself calling every annoying coworker “toxic,” cutting off friends who challenge you or diagnosing your ex’s every flaw as a trauma response, it might be time to pause. Because real healing doesn’t come from labeling people. It comes from doing the work—quietly, consistently and often without the aesthetic of a self-care influencer.
We just need to use this language with more care, more honesty, more nuance—and maybe a little more humility. Because not everything is toxic. Not every hard conversation is trauma. And not every time someone tells you the truth means they’ve violated your boundary.
Sometimes it’s just life—and life is hard. But it’s also how we grow.
