When Good Advice Isn’t Enough: Why Healing Takes More Than Habits

Too Much of a Good Thing

When someone we care about is feeling low, it’s natural to want to help. We might suggest what’s worked for us: “Try a morning jog,” or “Just let it go.” These tips come from a good place. After all, movement can lift your mood, and mindset does matter.

But when someone is struggling with depression, anxiety, or another mental health condition, these suggestions can land differently. Instead of feeling encouraged, they might feel dismissed or blamed. They may hear: It’s your fault you feel this way or This is just another thing I can’t do right.

For someone who’s barely able to get out of bed, suggesting they go for a jog can feel like asking them to climb a mountain without shoes. And when their thoughts are racing or their chest is tight with anxiety, telling them to “just relax” can make them feel more broken—not better.

The Promise—and the Problem—of Lifestyle Psychiatry

As a psychiatrist, I deeply believe in the power of lifestyle. Sleep, movement, nutrition, time in nature, and meaningful connection are all foundational to mental health. They're not just “nice to have”—they're vital. There is strong evidence supporting their role in mood regulation, stress resilience, and even preventing mental illness.

But here’s the nuance: lifestyle interventions are not a replacement for comprehensive care. They are part of the puzzle—not the whole picture.

Sometimes, lifestyle advice is offered in ways that minimize the real struggles of mental illness. Other times, it’s internalized by the person suffering—leading to shame when they can’t eat better, sleep more, or go for that walk. It can feel like failure. Even worse, it can keep someone from seeking deeper help.

When Advice Hurts Instead of Helps

Let’s take a few common examples:

"You should try meditation."

Meditation can be wonderful. But for someone with severe anxiety or trauma, closing their eyes and turning inward might feel terrifying, or focusing on breath work may feel suffocating. It’s not laziness or resistance—it’s survival.

"Just exercise more."

Exercise can be as effective as antidepressants for some people with mild to moderate depression. But depression often robs people of energy, motivation, and coordination. Telling someone to exercise when they’re immobilized by fatigue or hopelessness can increase their self-blame.

"You just need to eat clean."

Nutrition absolutely affects brain health. But poor appetite, digestive issues, executive dysfunction, or financial strain can make this advice impractical or overwhelming. Also, rigid thinking around food can worsen anxiety or lead to disordered eating in vulnerable people.

A Better Approach: Compassion + Collaboration

So what can we do?

• Validate first.

  Start with empathy. "That sounds so hard," or "I’m really sorry you're going through this" goes much further than advice. People need to feel seen before they can feel helped.

  
  

• Ask, don’t tell.

  “Would it feel okay to try going for a short walk together?” is different than “You should get outside more.” Give people choices. Empowerment beats prescription.

  
  

• Match the recommendation to the moment.

  Lifestyle changes may be more accessible after therapy has begun, medications are working, or a person is out of a crisis. The timing matters.

  
  

• Keep things bite-sized.

  Rather than offering sweeping lifestyle overhauls, encourage tiny steps. One glass of water. One deep breath. One text to a friend. These are not small wins—they are foundational ones.

When the Sick Role Becomes a Safe Place

Sometimes, after a long period of suffering, a person can begin to identify with their illness. The “sick role” can offer protection—lowered expectations, permission to rest, or a reason to retreat from overwhelming demands. And often, that makes sense. It’s a coping strategy, especially when previous efforts to feel better have failed or backfired.

But staying in that space for too long can become its own barrier to healing. It can foster avoidance, reduce a person’s sense of agency, and subtly reinforce the belief that recovery isn’t possible—or even worth pursuing.

This doesn’t mean someone is being difficult or resistant. It means their nervous system may still be in survival mode. But part of recovery often involves gently challenging the belief that they are fragile, incapable, or forever broken. The goal isn’t to push—it’s to invite. To wonder aloud: What small step might be possible now?

Stepping out of the sick role isn’t about denying pain. It’s about making space for small changes. Taking the step to acknowledge the need for additional help—and reaching out to a professional—can be a powerful and hopeful act.

The Takeaway

Lifestyle changes are incredibly important—and they can be lifesaving. But when we promote them as quick fixes or moral imperatives, we risk shaming the very people we're trying to support.

Mental health is complex. It deserves more than a list of hacks or habits. It deserves compassion, clinical care, and real understanding.

So yes—move your body, eat well, get rest, and seek sunlight. But if you’re struggling to do those things, it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means your healing process may need more support right now—and that’s okay.

When the time is right, those lifestyle shifts can become powerful tools. But they work best when paired with patience, timing, and the belief that healing isn’t about doing more—it’s about being met where you are.