When a friend dies, a relationship ends or a family falls apart, many young people do not immediately seek counselling. Instead, they open Threads at 2 a.m., message the one friend who knows how to listen without saying, “Everything happens for a reason,” or pour their thoughts into a notes app they may never show anyone. Others deactivate their social media accounts, retreat into silence and withdraw from the digital world for days or even weeks.
It is tempting to dismiss these responses as avoidance or an unwillingness to confront pain. But for many young people, they are coping mechanisms shaped by the digital spaces in which they communicate, express themselves and seek connection.
In an increasingly connected world, grief has found new ways of expressing itself. Yet beneath the posts, private messages and periods of silence lies a familiar human need: to be understood, to feel less alone and to find a way forward.
The Notes App: A New-Age Diary
Sometimes, the most honest conversations are the ones nobody else gets to read.
For many young people, the notes app has become a private diary — a place to express feelings without an audience, public scrutiny, likes or unsolicited advice. It offers room for the thoughts that may feel too painful, confusing or uncomfortable to share aloud.
“I am angry at them.” “I still miss them.” “I do not feel anything today, and that scares me.”
These are the kinds of thoughts that may find their way into unsent messages, unfinished lists or letters addressed to people who are no longer present.
Writing about painful experiences can help people organise their thoughts, acknowledge difficult emotions and make sense of what they are going through. The technology may be relatively new, but the impulse is not. People have always turned to diaries, letters and private reflections to process loss.
The difference is that today’s young people often carry these private spaces in their pockets, alongside the apps through which they maintain their public identities.
A notes app cannot replace human support, but it can provide a first step towards understanding emotions that have not yet found the right words.
Threads and the Comfort of Strangers
Social media has also created new spaces for public and semi-anonymous expressions of grief.
On platforms such as Threads, young people can share experiences of heartbreak, bereavement, loneliness and family difficulties with people they may never meet. Sometimes, a stranger’s simple response — “I have been there too” — offers comfort that feels difficult to find in their immediate surroundings.
Distance can make vulnerability easier. There may be less fear of judgement, fewer awkward questions and less concern that a deeply personal confession will become the subject of conversation at home, school or work.
Reading other people’s experiences can also help young people recognise that their emotions are not unusual. Grief does not follow a single timetable, and healing does not always look like strength, optimism or a quick return to normal life.
However, online validation has its limitations. A stranger may acknowledge someone’s pain without knowing the circumstances behind it. A supportive comment cannot necessarily identify when a person has stopped eating properly, is struggling to sleep or has become overwhelmed by hopelessness.
Digital communities can offer connection, but they cannot always provide the sustained attention, practical assistance and professional care that deeper distress may require.
The challenge, therefore, is not to dismiss online support, but to recognise both its value and its limits.
The One Friend Who Knows Everything
Behind many young people’s attempts to cope is a small, often invisible support system: one or two trusted friends.
These are the people who answer late-night messages, listen to the same story repeatedly and sit through difficult silences without demanding explanations. They may be the first to notice a change in mood or the only people a grieving young person feels safe enough to approach.
Such friendships can be profoundly protective. Feeling heard and accepted can make an unbearable experience easier to navigate.
But there is a vulnerability in relying almost entirely on one or two people. Friends are not necessarily trained to manage serious emotional distress. They have their own responsibilities, struggles and losses, and they may not know what to say when someone’s pain persists.
Young people may also minimise their suffering to avoid becoming a burden. They stop sending messages, say they are fine when they are not, or keep difficult feelings to themselves because they believe their friends have already done enough.
This creates a difficult paradox: the people who most need support may withdraw from the very relationships that could help them.
Strong friendships matter, but they should not have to carry the entire weight of another person’s emotional well-being. Young people need wider networks of support that include trusted adults, accessible counsellors, mentors and community-based services.
Deactivating: The Digital Retreat
Sometimes, coping means disappearing.
A young person who deactivates their social media accounts after a breakup, a bereavement or a family crisis may simply need space to breathe. Stepping away from constant notifications, other people’s opinions and the pressure to appear happy can be a reasonable act of self-protection.
Social media often encourages people to perform versions of themselves that look successful, confident and emotionally composed. During grief, maintaining that image can become exhausting. A temporary retreat may allow someone to process their feelings without feeling watched.
Silence, therefore, should not automatically be interpreted as a problem.
But context matters. A short break from social media is different from prolonged isolation accompanied by a loss of interest in everyday activities, significant changes in sleep or eating, or persistent feelings of hopelessness.
The concern is not that a young person has gone offline. It is whether they have become disconnected from meaningful support altogether.
The goal should not be to force young people back onto social media, but to ensure that they have safe relationships and accessible sources of help beyond it.
Why Are Young People Not Seeking Counselling?
If young people are struggling, why do so many turn to their phones rather than professional support?
The answer is rarely as simple as unwillingness to seek help.
For some, the cost of counselling is prohibitive. Others face long waiting lists, limited services or uncertainty about where to find qualified professionals. In some families and communities, mental health challenges remain difficult to discuss openly, and seeking counselling may be interpreted as weakness or an inability to handle life’s difficulties.
There are also quieter barriers. A young person may fear that their parents will find out, worry about being judged by friends, or believe that their pain is not serious enough to deserve professional attention.
Others simply do not know what to expect from counselling. If they have never seen someone seek professional support, they may regard it as an unfamiliar or intimidating step.
These barriers help explain why digital coping mechanisms can feel more accessible. A message can be sent instantly. A private note requires no explanation. An online community is available without an appointment.
But accessibility should not be confused with adequacy. What helps someone manage a difficult evening may not be enough to address prolonged grief, severe emotional distress or a crisis.
Making counselling more affordable, approachable and familiar is therefore essential. Young people should not have to reach breaking point before they feel entitled to seek help.
What Can Organisations, Communities and Adults Do?
Supporting young people requires more than telling them to put their phones down or encouraging them to be strong. It requires an understanding of where they seek comfort, what prevents them from accessing help and how support can become part of their everyday lives.
First, meet young people where they are. Mental health support should not exist only within formal offices or clinical settings. Schools, universities, youth organisations and community institutions can provide confidential guidance, peer-support initiatives, text-friendly information and clear pathways to professional services.
Second, treat online coping as a starting point, not a failure. When a young person shares a painful experience online or retreats into private digital spaces, the response should be curiosity rather than condemnation. Asking, “What has been helping you get through this?” may open a more meaningful conversation than immediately asking, “Have you seen a counsellor?”
Third, help young people recognise when additional support is needed. Persistent withdrawal, major changes in sleeping or eating habits, an inability to manage daily responsibilities and expressions of hopelessness may indicate that someone needs more help than friends alone can provide. These signs should prompt a compassionate conversation and, where appropriate, referral to a qualified professional. Any indication of immediate danger requires urgent support.
Fourth, normalise help-seeking. Parents, teachers, religious leaders, mentors and public figures can help dismantle stigma by speaking openly and responsibly about emotional well-being. When seeking support is treated as a normal part of navigating life’s difficulties, young people may find it easier to take that step themselves.
Finally, build support systems that last beyond the moment of crisis. Youth organisations and institutions can create spaces where young people feel comfortable discussing grief, relationships, family difficulties and emotional well-being before these challenges become overwhelming. Regular check-ins, trained peer supporters and partnerships with qualified mental health professionals can help ensure that no young person has to rely on a single friend or an online stranger for all their support.
Beyond Airplane Mode
Young people are grieving. They are mourning loved ones, navigating heartbreak, dealing with family difficulties and trying to make sense of experiences they may not yet know how to explain.
Some write in notes apps. Others seek comfort on Threads, confide in one trusted friend or temporarily disappear from social media. These behaviours may look different from traditional expressions of grief, but they often reflect the same enduring need for connection, understanding and healing.
We should neither romanticise digital coping nor dismiss it. Online spaces can offer a valuable first point of connection, but they cannot meet every emotional need. Private reflection can help someone process pain, but it should not become a substitute for support when that pain becomes overwhelming.
The responsibility of families, communities, institutions and youth organisations is to make sure that compassionate, appropriate help is available when young people need it — without shame, unnecessary barriers or judgement.
Ultimately, the goal is not to pull young people offline or demand that they explain their grief before they are ready. It is to create a world in which they can step away when they need space, reach out when they need connection and access professional help when they need more than a listening ear.
Because when the silence ends and a young person is ready to switch the signal back on, someone should be there to receive the message.
The author works with the Afro-Arab Youth Council (AAYC).
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