Mental healing comes to TikTok, Instagram reels

When the Covid-19 pandemic disrupted traditional therapy, Jared Omache found himself at a crossroads. He could either wait for the world to return to normal, or he could adapt. He pivoted, a decision that has allowed him to reach people far beyond his immediate surroundings.

“I am a psychologist,” Jared begins. “And I asked myself, why can’t I use my experience, my expertise, and my skills to create awareness and reach as many people as possible, especially those I might never meet physically?” he says.

That question marked the beginning of his journey on TikTok, a platform best known for viral dances, comedy skits and lip-syncs, not therapy. But Jared saw potential in its reach.

“Because I’m so interested in human development and general wellness, I thought, let me do this. From the comfort of where I am, I can reach someone in the remotest part of any country.”

For him, this wasn’t a branding strategy. It was a calling. Many people, he explains, have been left behind, unable to afford therapy, unaware of mental health challenges, or silenced by stigma. TikTok, with its ever-scrolling “For You Page,” became his digital clinic.

“There are people suffering who don’t even know they’re dealing with a mental health issue,” he says. “But when they scroll and come across a video, a message that resonates, something clicks. That awareness lands right in front of them. And from a distance, I can contribute positively to their life.”

His target audience, he says, is anyone touched by mental health challenges directly or indirectly. “It’s either they are battling it themselves, or they know someone who is.”

Some of his posts have gone viral, reaching hundreds of thousands of viewers. But beyond the numbers is the real impact: people finding the courage to reach out, ask questions, or book a session.

“From Covid to date, I’ve consulted people from nearly every continent,” he shares. “The beauty is, when your post goes viral, people investigate. They check your background. Some realise that what they’ve seen speaks directly to something they’re going through. That’s when they take the next step and reach out.”

Still, the rise of mental health content on platforms like TikTok brings new complications, especially the worrying trend of self-diagnosis. Jared is unequivocal: “It’s dangerous. You might miss the mark entirely. Diagnosis should be guided by trained, certified professionals — psychologists, psychiatrists, or mental health practitioners. As creators, we should be creating awareness, not replacing clinical processes.”

Unlike content creators chasing trends or constant engagement, Jared’s approach is different. “I don’t feel pressure to create content. I move at my own pace,” he says. “This field is demanding. I can’t be online all the time. But when I get a moment, I try to tackle at least two key issues each week, based on what people are going through.”

And people are going through a lot, especially the youth. His inbox is a revolving door of direct messages, mostly from young followers. At the top of the list? Consultations.

“Young people are dealing with life pressures, psychological disturbances, family issues, relationship breakdowns, academic stress. They reach out not just for therapy, but also to get guidance, to talk, to be heard.”

Some are at a crossroads in their lives. “They’ll say, ‘I’m about to make a big decision, and I just want someone to help me weigh it.’ Others see me as a mentor, and that humbles me. Most of them I’ve never even met in person, but they say, ‘You’re the one I trust.’”

Jared makes himself available, not to everyone, and not always, but intentionally. “My inbox is open for guidance. If I can help, I will. If

I can’t, I refer them to someone who can.”

Listens, relates, affirms

For Michael Onyaga, therapy isn’t just a clinical exchange inside four white walls. It can be a shared journal,a 60-second reel that lands on someone’s screen at exactly the right moment.

“I’m the founder of Vibes and Vent, a fully online mental health firm. What we do is rooted in one core belief: healing is not one-size-fits-all.”

Through Vibes and Vent, Michael and his team have created a platform where therapy becomes less intimidating, more conversational, and deeply human. “We foster safe spaces for people to just vibe — connect — and vent, which is express themselves in ways that feel natural and empowering.”

But his work isn’t confined to virtual therapy rooms. Michael is part of a growing movement of mental health professionals who’ve taken their message to social media; TikTok, Instagram, even X. Not to chase virality, but to challenge convention.

“I wanted to disrupt the idea that therapy only happens in a quiet room where two people sit across from each other,” he says. “That model works for some, but not for everyone, especially in African contexts. Social media has often been dismissed as noise. But we saw it as a digital empire, a place where we could gather and be seen. A space to have honest conversations about mental health.”

The tone of Vibes and Vent content is different from traditional awareness campaigns. It doesn’t preach. It speaks. It relates. It listens. And it affirms.

And while he downplays the idea of being “viral” — “That’s subjective,” he shrugs — his videos have quietly found traction. Clips on burnout, grounding techniques and emotional overwhelm have garnered thousands of views. “When someone sees a video and says, ‘Wait, this feels like me’ — that’s the impact,” he says. “They relate. They follow. They reach out.”

For Michael, curiosity matters more than certainty. “Diagnosis should come with structure, not isolation. It should be about understanding, not fear. We have to honor people’s stories, not box them in.”

And that means changing how we educate. “I’m not a guru,” he says quickly. “I’m a translator. I take what I learn from school, from books, from lived experience and I ask, ‘How can I make this hit home without losing its depth?’”

Sometimes that means swapping out clinical jargon for local metaphors. “I’ll compare emotional burnout to the long line people make in town waiting for a Super Metro bus. That image clicks. That’s what we mean by breaking away from kizungu mingi mingi the Western academic tone that feels elitist or inaccessible.”

Still, he insists on accuracy. “You can be relatable without watering things down. Education doesn’t have to be elite.”

So while other creators may worry about making their content entertaining or trendy, Michael doesn’t share that pressure. “To me, it’s about intention. I focus on real experiences. I don’t chase trends, but I’m playful. I use humour, creativity. Not to trivialize pain, but to build trust. We trust what feels relatable.”

She destigmatises mental health

For Maryanne Waruguru, being a psychologist in the digital age means wearing multiple hats; therapist, educator, advocate and at times, content creator.

“I’m a psychologist and a mental health advocate,” she says. “I usually create content on mental health and wellness on TikTok just to educate people and create awareness.”

Her goal is clear: to fight misinformation and help destigmatise mental health, one-60-seconds video at a time.

“I started creating videos after seeing how misinformed people were,” she says. “It was about breaking the stigma and helping people know when someone’s struggling and how to help.”

Her content focuses primarily on young people, the group she works with most in her practice teenagers, young adults and even those into their early 40s.

“Most of the people who come to my private practice found me through something they saw on TikTok,” she explains. “They’ll say, ‘Oh, I saw your video and felt like I could connect with you.’ It’s that sense of resonance that leads them to reach out.”

But as with others in the field, Maryanne is cautious about how much she puts online especially when it comes to mental illness. “I rarely talk about diagnoses or list signs and symptoms. I don’t want people to self-diagnose based on a short video,” she says firmly. “We always give a disclaimer if you want to know more, reach out to a professional.”

Her approach to complex topics is straightforward: simplify without diluting. “I break things down into something like ‘How to know if you’re emotionally exhausted’ or find a trending audio that fits what I’m trying to say,” she says.

Maryanne is part of a small but growing community of younger therapists who also create online content. “We’ve collaborated a few times,” she says. “When I do webinars, I invite them. We’ve done collaborative posts. But not everyone’s comfortable being online.”

Airing the trauma of firstborns

For Faith Gichanga, a counselling and organisational psychologist, content creation is an extension of her therapy work, a way to reach those who might never make it to her office.

“A lot of the issues I talk about online come straight from my therapy room,” she says. “Most people can’t afford to access therapy, but they deserve to understand what they’re going through. So I break it down for them using plain language, lived examples and relatable analogies.”

Gichanga started posting actively after seeing a pattern among her clients who identified as firstborns. “I realised I kept having the same conversations repeatedly, about responsibility fatigue, pressure, emotional suppression. So I turned it into content.”

Her work, which cuts across TikTok, Instagram, Facebook and LinkedIn, targets different audiences depending on the platform. Gen Z dominate her TikTok and Instagram following, while older millennials and Gen X tend to engage on Facebook and LinkedIn.

“Some posts have gone so far, people send them back to me,” she laughs. “That visibility translates into practice. Many people come to therapy because they saw a video or someone referred them after seeing my content.”

Demystifying mental health

Lastly, Diana Nkatha, a counselling psychologist finishing her Master’s in organisational psychology, has been creating mental health content for five years, almost since TikTok launched.

“For me, TikTok is not therapy. It’s a way to demystify therapy, educate people, and make mental health less intimidating,” she says. “Yes, people reach out after watching my videos, some seeking therapy, others asking to be mentored into the field.”

Nkatha says the pressure to be trendy doesn’t faze her: “I show the balance, not just therapy content, but also my daily life. It gives people hope, and that’s part of mental wellness too.”

Like others, she draws a clear line between awareness and diagnosis. “TikTok can show you symptoms, sure, but diagnosis? That has to come from a qualified professional. People throw around words like ADHD or bipolar because of one video. But there’s a difference between a symptom and a disorder.”

She adds, “The beauty of digital content is reach. Even if someone never books a session, they learn something. And if they do reach out, I always ensure we cross into professional territory the right way confidentiality, consent, structure. Not just a DM and advice.”

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