Beyond Division: Collective Mental Health in an Age of Overload
TL;DR:
We live under constant stress, shaped by overload and fractured trust. Anxiety, burnout, and loneliness are the consequences. Healing begins with slowing down, practicing vulnerability, and rebuilding connection—because our resilience is rooted not in isolation, but in shared humanity.
Everywhere we turn, the cracks are showing. Our feeds are filled with outrage. Conversations that once felt spirited now feel dangerous. Many of us admit to being on edge, yet we can’t always name why. It isn’t simply politics or social issues that fuel this tension. It’s the way our individual mental health is being shaped by a collective overload. Too much information, too many demands, and too little trust in what is real.
The Weight of Constant Stress
According to the American Psychological Association’s Stress in America survey, nearly 70% of adults say they feel overwhelmed by the number of crises facing the nation at any given time. This isn’t just the news cycle. It’s a steady drip of anxiety that follows us from our phones into our workplaces and homes.
As a therapist, I can confirm what the data shows: more people are walking into sessions not because of one acute crisis, but because the baseline level of stress has become unbearable. People who describe themselves as “high-functioning” often share that they feel like they’re fraying at the edges. It’s not just burnout from work, it’s the accumulation of constant vigilance and emotional overload.
When our nervous systems are flooded day after day, small triggers can set us off. We snap at colleagues. We avoid family conversations. We withdraw rather than risk a fight. It’s not weakness, it’s biology. Our bodies aren’t built to process this much unrelenting stress without time to recover.
Part of the challenge is that it’s harder than ever to know what is true. Media researchers at the Pew Research Center report that more than half of Americans feel exhausted by trying to determine whether information is accurate. What used to be a simple task like reading the paper or listening to the news now requires fact-checking, skepticism, and constant vigilance.
This erosion of shared truth has consequences. We no longer start with the same set of facts from which to form opinions. Instead, our feeds deliver content tailored to confirm what we already believe. The result is a cycle of isolation: people double down on their views, feel reinforced by curated media, and grow further apart from neighbors who see different versions of reality.
From Vulnerability to Hardening
There was a time when disagreement was part of the public square. Respectful debate not only sharpened our thinking but deepened our understanding of each other. Today, many shy away from that discomfort. The risk of being misunderstood, shamed, or attacked feels too high. So instead of leaning into dialogue, we avoid it.
In doing so, we lose practice in vulnerability. We lose the willingness to expose uncertainty, to listen deeply, to risk not having all the answers. As Brené Brown has argued, “vulnerability is not weakness but the birthplace of courage and connection.” Without it, we harden. We puff ourselves up, pretending we are unshaken, while inside we may feel increasingly alone, increasingly heavy, increasingly anxious…
Why It Matters for Mental Health
The consequences extend beyond politics. Chronic stress and disconnection show up in rising rates of anxiety, depression, substance use, and burnout. In 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General named social isolation and loneliness as urgent public health concerns, pointing to their impact on both mental and physical health.
Division doesn’t only fracture communities. It frays the very support systems that individuals rely on to stay well. When neighbors, coworkers, and even family members become people to avoid, the circle of connection shrinks. And the smaller that circle, the harder it is to weather life’s inevitable stressors.
So what can be done? The solutions are neither quick nor simple, but they are deeply human. At the individual level, it starts with small choices to slow the flood of stress. Slowing the flood doesn’t have to mean logging off entirely. It can look like setting news apps to one push notification per day, turning off autoplay on your feed, or scheduling a tech-free walk after dinner. These simple shifts give your nervous system space to reset, without cutting you off from the world. These actions help reset our nervous systems and expand our capacity for connection.
On a collective level, the work is harder but more necessary. Rebuilding trust requires us to show up with openness, even when it feels uncomfortable. It means listening more than speaking. It means asking honest questions rather than defending fixed positions. And it means remembering that our well-being is tied to the health of our communities, not just ourselves.
We cannot erase division overnight, but we can choose not to let it define us. By tending to our own mental health, we create the capacity to engage with others more generously. By practicing vulnerability, we rebuild connection. By grounding ourselves in shared humanity rather than curated feeds, we begin to find common ground.
The truth is, none of us are meant to go it alone. The strength we project when we wall ourselves off is only surface deep. Real resilience comes from leaning on one another, even when it feels risky. That is the path not only to better mental health but to a stronger, more connected society.