The anxiety of not being happy enough
BarcelonaThere's a generation living with their backs against the wall and their hearts racing. A generation that has grown up surrounded by screens and uncertainties, that looks to the future with a weary smile and a question on their lips: "How can we learn to live when everything seems too much?"
As a social worker, I often hear stories of young people trying to cope in a world that demands more of them than they can give. Some live with a sad expression, others with the nervous laughter of someone trying to hide their true feelings. They all have something in common: the feeling of not living up to expectations that no one knows exactly who set.
We talk a lot about mental health, and that's an important step forward. But talking about it doesn't always mean understanding what's behind it. Many young people live with a silent anguish: the fear of disappointing others, of not making it, of not finding their place. It's not always depression or a diagnosable disorder. Sometimes it's simply a deep exhaustion, a kind of emptiness that has grown larger amidst pressures, screens, loneliness, and a future that seems increasingly precarious.
The context doesn't help either. The job market that awaits them is fragile, the housing crisis is pushing them out, and the pace of society doesn't allow them to stop. We adults often tell them that "they have it easier now," but perhaps we forget that they also have fewer opportunities to simply be themselves.
A generation that asks to breathe
Social media has amplified the constant self-examination: you need to be okay, happy, productive, consistent, and inspiring. And if you're not, you feel guilty. It's what many young people half-jokingly call "the anxiety of not being happy enough." But behind the irony lies a very serious cry: the desire to breathe without feeling judged.
As a society, we tend to respond to this unease with quick fixes: mindfulness, wellness apps, motivational quotes. But perhaps what's needed isn't to do more, but to listen more and demand less. To look at ourselves with patience again, to recognize that fragility isn't a weakness but an inevitable part of being human.
There are kids who just need someone to tell them that what they're feeling makes sense. That they're not alone. That there's nothing wrong with being afraid. Their stories don't make the news, but they're the ones that best explain our times.
Behind every statistic on youth mental health are names, faces, and unspoken conversations. And there's also a society that still doesn't quite know how to care for its young people without demanding constant excellence. Perhaps, instead of talking about resilience, we should talk about shared responsibility: understanding that if young people break down, it's because the system we've built is also breaking down.
Trenches of humanity
Schools, institutes, and social services are today's bastions of humanity. There are professionals who pour their hearts and souls into providing answers with limited resources and immense compassion. But emotional well-being cannot depend solely on the goodwill of those who work in these fields. A political and social commitment is needed to place well-being at the center, with genuine spaces for listening and support.
Talking about mental health shouldn't be a fad, but a commitment. And this commitment begins by looking at young people without haste, without rushing to diagnose them, without making comparisons. It begins by acknowledging their voices.
Perhaps the future we owe them isn't a perfect one, but a breathable one. A future where they don't have to hide their exhaustion, where it's not shameful to say "I can't take it anymore." A future where vulnerability has room to exist without guilt.
A generation that's asking for a break isn't asking for much. It's asking for time, empathy, and community. And perhaps, if we're able to truly listen to them, we too will learn to breathe better.