Have you read them yet? Perhaps on social media or elsewhere? Those countless articles, blogs, and posts (or whatever they are called these days) about the “poor little me” characters who feel let down by the “system”—therapists, doctors, counsellors, and their respective organisations. Either they believe their mental health struggles, such as depression, anxiety, OCD, eating disorders, trauma, addiction etc., were not taken seriously enough, or they feel that the system did not improve or accommodate their concerns. Some of these posts even come from so-called mental health advocates who, although they may begin with good intentions, end up unintentionally creating a platform that reinforces their victim identity—something that ultimately helps no one except the ego.

“The system failed me” or “the system let me down.” The ego loves such statements, as they serve only to strengthen its identity—the identity of the victim.

Now, I am not intending to cause offence by writing this, and you have every right to dismiss it. The ego within you would love it if you did. I am merely stating these observations not only as an observer, but also because I have fallen into this trap myself on countless occasions. Yes, I have been there—when OCD made my life feel like a living hell. How many times did I think, even if I never posted it, that the world and the whole universe had let me down and were against me? I know what a victim identity is, and I certainly know what it feels like to drown in self-pity. Fortunately, that began to change when I learned how the ego operates.

Thinking, saying, or posting that “the system has failed me” can be dangerous—not just as a concept, but because of the underlying mindset it reinforces. Failure and superiority are two sides of the same coin; both belong to the realm of the ego. We often think of the ego as feeling superior to others, which is certainly one aspect of it. However, the opposite polarity—feeling inferior, let down, or like a failure—is just as real and, in my view, even more pervasive.

The reason it is so easy to fall into the trap of victim identity is its subtlety. Because we often do not recognise it as part of the ego, we rarely notice it happening.

Remember, I have been there myself.

So here is the difficult truth: the so-called “system” is not responsible for making you better—you are. Yes, that may sound harsh, and I apologise if it causes offence, as that is not my intention. But it is important enough to repeat: the system is not responsible for making you feel better—you are.

You are responsible for getting better. The system can guide you, but you have to make the effort yourself.

I would certainly have preferred not to spend most of my life suffering from OCD, extreme depression, and suicidal ideation, but I eventually realised that it was my responsibility to try to overcome it. As long as you are making the effort, you cannot fail. The trying is in itself your success.

My therapist—who was excellent—was not responsible for making me better. He showed me the way. My interest in Eastern spirituality was not responsible either; it helped guide me, but the effort had to come from me.

Most people will experience hardship at some point throughout their lives—sometimes even great adversity that leads to trauma or mental health challenges, or both. While some conditions may have genetic components, it is still the individual affected who must take responsibility for managing and overcoming them. Healthcare professionals—doctors, therapists, and others—are there to help you find the path, but you must walk it yourself.

Sure, maybe you come across someone, e.g. a professional from the “system,” whom you may not click with, and whom you think is not right for you, in which case it is your responsibility to find somebody else you find better suited to show you the way. The chemistry must be right; I am not denying that.

When I began to understand how the ego operates, I also realised that the OCD I experienced was separate from me. It was something happening to me, not something that defined me. This realisation allowed me to create distance from it, which became a crucial step in my recovery. At its worst, I had completely identified with OCD—I had, in a sense, become it. That is exactly what the ego thrives on: identity. It had convinced me that I was OCD, trapping me in a state where I saw the world only through its lens.

The ego is clever, and it is constantly setting traps for you to fall into. Be vigilant and learn to recognise when it is assigning you an unhelpful identity.