5 Questions to Ask a Psychologist About Your Mental Health
Mental health is a crucial aspect of overall well-being, yet many people struggle to navigate its complexities. This article presents expert insights on key psychological topics that impact daily life. From recognizing depression to balancing career passion with personal well-being, these expert-backed questions provide valuable guidance for anyone seeking to improve their mental health.
- Recognize Signs of Depression vs Temporary Lows
- Balance Passion and Well-being in Career
- Navigate Calm in Chaos Overwhelm in Peace
- Maintain Self While Supporting Others
- Feel Emotions Instead of Intellectualizing Them
Recognize Signs of Depression vs Temporary Lows
If I were to ask a psychologist one question about my own mental health, it might be:
"How can I tell the difference between being in a temporary low phase and something more serious like depression?"
Why is this question important?
In today's world—post-pandemic, economically uncertain, socially fragmented—many people are experiencing prolonged stress, disconnection, or burnout. You might be functioning "fine" on the outside—getting up, working, talking to others—but internally, things feel heavy or flat. Asking this question could be your way of checking in, of pausing to ask: Is this just life being hard right now, or is something deeper going on that I've been ignoring?
Many of us experience waves of sadness, burnout, or anxiety. But these feelings can come and go—so we often brush them off, assuming they'll pass. That assumption is sometimes true, but not always. Knowing how to read your own emotional landscape is a key part of mental well-being, yet it's not something we're often taught to do.
Conditions like depression don't always show up in dramatic ways. They can creep in slowly: disrupted sleep, loss of interest in things you used to enjoy, persistent fatigue, irritability, or just a dull sense of "what's the point?" These signs can be easily dismissed or misinterpreted as laziness, weakness, or just a bad week. By the time someone realizes it's serious, they may already feel overwhelmed and isolated.
Early awareness allows early action—whether that's making small changes to lifestyle, seeking therapy, or just talking to someone. Many people delay getting help because they're unsure if what they're feeling "counts" as a real mental health issue. This delay can lead to deeper distress and make recovery harder.
People often worry: What if I'm just being dramatic? What if I waste a therapist's time? These thoughts can stop someone from seeking help, especially in cultures or families where emotional struggles aren't openly discussed. Having clear criteria or guidance from a psychologist could offer reassurance and clarity.
This question is really a way of saying: I want to take responsibility for my emotional health, but I don't want to over-pathologize normal struggles. Help me draw that line. It reflects a willingness to grow, to face difficult truths if necessary, and to prioritize mental well-being.
Balance Passion and Well-being in Career
How can I distinguish between healthy ambition and early burnout when I transform my passion into my career?
Why this matters to me now: I'm an MD developing a combination of clinical, telehealth, and medical writing projects. While the workload is exciting, I want to avoid confusing constant drive with well-being. I'm seeking practical, evidence-based indicators that signify "this is still healthy" versus "you're starting to slip." For example: when does normal fatigue evolve into emotional exhaustion; when does good focus transform into irritability, sleep disturbances, or loss of joy? I would appreciate clear tools I can use weekly, simple check-ins, boundaries that are effective, and strategies to recover without feeling guilty about taking a step back. My goal is to maintain the purpose and energy that brought me here, while safeguarding my long-term mental health.
Navigate Calm in Chaos Overwhelm in Peace
If I could ask a psychologist one honest question about my own mental health, it would be:
"Why do I feel calm when things are chaotic, but overwhelmed when things are finally okay?"
That might sound counterintuitive, but it's something I've started noticing more and more. When the stakes are high—deadlines, crises, money running out—I go into this hyper-functional, almost meditative state. I get laser-focused. No anxiety. No fear. Just flow.
But when things ease up? When we've hit a milestone, or funding's stable, or there's no emergency tugging at my brain—I start spiraling. My thoughts get foggy. Procrastination creeps in. I lose motivation. It's as if my nervous system doesn't know how to exist in safety.
And I don't think I'm alone in this. I've met a lot of high-performing founders and creatives who are wired the same way. It's almost as if we were built for survival mode... and then forgot how to switch it off.
This question matters to me because I'm realizing that scaling a business long-term isn't just about stamina—it's about sustainability. You can't just coast from fire to fire forever. At some point, you have to learn how to be at peace in peace.
That's the edge I'm trying to find now. Not how to thrive under pressure—I've got that part down. But how to trust stability without trying to sabotage it.
Maintain Self While Supporting Others
If you could ask a psychologist one question about your own mental health, what would it be? Why is this question important to you right now?
Here's the question I'd ask:
"How do I keep showing up for others without losing pieces of myself in the process?"
And I'd ask that not as a business owner—but as a human being who works in the trenches of addiction and mental health every single day.
I run Ridgeline Recovery. I've sat with people in their darkest moments, watched families break, and tried to hold it all together because people count on me to be steady. But what they don't always see is that when you're constantly pouring into others, your own tank runs dry. And when you're leading an addiction recovery center, you don't get the luxury of burning out quietly. Lives depend on you staying sharp.
This question matters to me right now because I'm realizing that even mental health professionals—especially us—need boundaries. We talk a lot about self-care in this field, but when the phone's ringing nonstop, your staff needs support, and clients are relapsing, where does self-care actually fit in?
I'm not asking for balance. I'm asking how to stay present for the people who need me without burning out, becoming numb, or quietly falling apart behind closed doors. That's real. That's where I'm at.
If we don't ask ourselves these kinds of questions, we end up becoming the very people we're trying to help—disconnected, overwhelmed, and silently suffering.
Feel Emotions Instead of Intellectualizing Them
One question that I often struggle with is this: "How can I balance intellectualizing vs. feeling difficult emotions?"
As an introvert and a writer, I have so often found myself mentally processing my emotions instead of actually feeling them and honoring them as they come. I've heard many busy professionals struggle with the same thing.
Work and family expectations and responsibilities pull us in way too many directions - leaving little room to check in with ourselves and connect with whatever our emotions are trying to tell us. And while intellectualizing can be a healthy coping mechanism at times, it often results in emotions getting stuck within us - waiting for another trigger to bring them up as deep frustration, anxiety, irritability, or anger.
