- Priyanka Daulani

Growing up in a South Asian family isn't easy; it’s like a rollercoaster, filled with the

wildest things you've ever heard. As a kid, I was exposed to many lessons that taught

me that, as a psychology student, our families aren’t always wrong—it's just how they

were raised. Mental health is considered a taboo in Indian households, where you're

discouraged from talking about what you feel. You're not allowed to experience every

emotion, and privacy? Well, let's face it, that never existed, and it still doesn't. Mental

health was a word as unknown as the location of the Titanic to South Asian families; it

was never acknowledged whether someone was dealing with anxiety or just

sadness—you simply let it go, ignoring emotional struggles and being called lazy or a

‘dead soul lying around the house’. One common saying in Indian households is, ‘You’ll

realise when you become a parent, you’ll realise when we die,' so are we just supposed

to repeat the same patterns for the next generation? I’ve been told I need to be a

strong, independent woman since the age of five, not by choice but because that's just

what you do. I found myself dealing with assault, followed by years of panic attacks and

binge eating related to the bliss we call PCOS. During my first two years, I wasn’t even

aware of what I had been through because, in our households, where do you even find

the space to process your emotions? What my family couldn’t do, psychology helped

me with; it broadened my perspective on life. I learned how Bowlby’s attachment

theories explained how a child could be negatively affected by a lack of love, care, and

attention during their early years. Suddenly, everything started to make much more

sense—understanding why I tend to attract toxic men and friendships. Why I often go

the extra mile for people—that inner child of mine never felt loved. South Asian families

are all about “4 log kya kahenge,” but do we really want approval from those outside our

families? All we want is validation and reassurance from the people around us. Just

remaining quiet won’t make us happy; it only drives kids deeper into darkness, leading

to eating disorders and anxiety. Emotional exhaustion starts with issues like lack of

privacy, not being able to go out, and curfews that somehow only apply to girls. I noticed

how I started developing insecure attachment styles, lost faith in men, and became

more stressed, leading to hormonal problems. The most valuable thing I've learned is

that recognising mental health issues doesn't mean you hate your family; it means

you're taking care of yourself so you don't keep the cycle of silence going. I still love my

family. I cherish our principles. But I also realise that mental health involves strength,

self-awareness, and self-respect, not weakness. If you were raised in a home where

mental health wasn’t discussed, you're not alone. You're not damaged. And you're

certainly not being "dramatic”. We need to break this cycle of mental health taboo.

It ends with us…