You’re in a stand-up meeting. Someone asks how you’re doing. You want to say “I’m struggling. I’m anxious. I barely slept last night because I can’t stop thinking about work.”
Instead, you say “Good, thanks.” Because that’s what everyone says. Because admitting you’re not okay feels dangerous.
Welcome to tech, where we’ll spend hours debugging a memory leak but won’t mention we’re having panic attacks in the bathroom.
The silence we keep
Tech culture glorifies the superhuman developer. The one who codes through the night. Who never struggles. Who solves impossible problems with ease. Who’s always “crushing it.”
There’s no room in that narrative for depression. For anxiety. For the days when getting out of bed feels impossible. For the medication you take. For the therapy appointments you schedule around sprint planning.
So we hide it. We code through our bad days. We smile in meetings while dying inside. We pretend we’re fine because everyone else seems fine.
But here’s the secret: they’re pretending too.
Why we don’t talk about it
The fears are real. What if your manager thinks you can’t handle the workload? What if they pass you over for promotion? What if your team loses confidence in you? What if it ends up in your performance review?
In an industry that values logic and rationality, mental health struggles feel like weakness. Like a bug in your code. Something to fix privately, never to mention publicly.
You’ve seen what happens to people who admit they’re struggling. Suddenly they’re on a “performance improvement plan.” Suddenly their workload gets redistributed. Suddenly they’re no longer considered for that senior role.
The message is clear: mental health issues are career limiting. Better to suffer in silence.
The cost of silence
When we can’t talk about mental health, we can’t get help. We suffer alone, convinced we’re the only one struggling. The isolation makes everything worse.
We delay getting treatment because we’re afraid of judgment. Depression deepens. Anxiety spirals. What could have been managed becomes a crisis.
We burn out trying to maintain the facade. Pushing through when we need rest. Working when we need help. Pretending we’re okay until we completely fall apart.
And the industry loses talented people. Not because they can’t code. Because the environment made it impossible for them to survive while also taking care of their mental health.
What needs to change
Mental health isn’t a personal failing. It’s a health issue, just like a broken bone or the flu. You wouldn’t hide a broken arm. Why hide depression?
We need leaders who talk openly about their own struggles. Who normalize therapy. Who take mental health days without calling them “sick days.” Who show that vulnerability isn’t weakness.
We need company policies that actually support mental health. Real mental health days. Reasonable workloads. Health insurance that covers therapy without huge copays. Managers trained to spot burnout.
We need to stop rewarding overwork. Stop celebrating all-nighters. Stop making heroes out of people who sacrifice their health for deadlines.
We need team cultures where “I’m not okay today” is an acceptable answer. Where asking for help is seen as strength, not weakness. Where taking care of yourself is expected, not exceptional.
What you can do right now
If you’re struggling
You don’t have to tell everyone. But tell someone. A trusted friend. A therapist. Your doctor. Someone who can help carry what you’re carrying alone.
Use your benefits if you have them. That’s what they’re for. Therapy isn’t a luxury. It’s healthcare.
Take sick days for mental health. You would for physical illness. Your mind deserves the same care.
Know your rights. In many places, mental health conditions are protected disabilities. Your employer cannot legally discriminate against you for getting treatment.
If you’re a teammate
Notice when people are struggling. Don’t wait for them to ask for help. Reach out. “Hey, you seem stressed. Want to talk?”
Don’t minimize what they share. “It could be worse” isn’t comforting. “That sounds really hard” is.
Offer practical support. “I can take that task if you need a break.” Actions speak louder than “let me know if you need anything.”
If you’re a leader
Model the behavior you want to see. Talk about your own mental health. Take mental health days publicly. Go to therapy and mention it casually.
Create psychological safety on your team. Make it clear that vulnerability is valued. That asking for help won’t hurt careers. That mental health is health.
Watch for warning signs. Behavioral changes. Withdrawal. Decline in work quality. These aren’t performance issues. They’re cries for help.
Accommodate when people need it. Flexible schedules. Reduced workload temporarily. Time off. These investments in your people pay dividends.
The conversation we need to have
Mental health issues don’t make you less capable as a developer. They make you human. And humans sometimes struggle. That’s not a bug. That’s biology.
Some of the best developers I know have anxiety. Depression. ADHD. PTSD. They’re not great developers despite their mental health struggles. They’re great developers who also happen to have mental health conditions. The two are unrelated.
We need to stop treating mental health like it’s shameful. Like it’s something to hide. Like asking for help is weakness.
The strongest thing you can do is admit when you’re not okay and get help. That takes more courage than coding through a panic attack.
Breaking the silence
Change starts with one person being honest. Maybe that person is you.
Next time someone asks how you’re doing, try the truth. “Actually, I’m struggling a bit.” See what happens. You might be surprised.
The more we talk about mental health, the more normal it becomes. The more normal it becomes, the easier it is for others to seek help. Your honesty might give someone else permission to be honest too.
We’ve normalized talking about physical health. We share when we’re sick. When we need surgery. When we’re in physical therapy.
It’s time to do the same with mental health.
Because your brain is an organ too. And sometimes organs need medical care. There’s no shame in that.
You deserve to be well. And you deserve to be honest about when you’re not.
