The term has floated around on the internet for a while now; Know Your Meme credits its popularity to rapper NBA YoungBoy, who used the term in his 2017 song, “Stepped On.” Since the 2020s, the concept has been used both humorously and in earnest to discuss the fallout from issues as global as the state of the world, as personal as relationship or work stress, or as low stakes as struggling with a hairstyle. Practically any problem, big or small, can warrant a “crashout.”
One of the most striking things about the phrase is how general it is. Why is a generation raised on pop-psychology jargon, with more access to mental health resources and experience talking about their own needs, painting these episodes with such a broad brush? Is Gen Z abandoning traditional routes of managing their mental health, or has a burnout generation found a more radical way to cope?
It’s no secret that Gen Z is particularly stressed out. According to a 2024 Harmony Healthcare IT study, nearly half of Gen Zers struggle with mental health issues, with one in three taking prescription medication for mental health. Anxiety and depression are the most common conditions. The Covid-19 pandemic has been seen as a cause for the Gen Z mental health crisis, while other studies point to social media as a huge factor.
Meanwhile, research suggests that Gen Z might be growing more resistant to traditional therapy. A study published in BetterHelp’s 2025 State of the Stigma Report found that 37 percent of participants born between 1997 and 2012 said that seeking counseling was “mentally weak.” This was a higher percentage than the 27 percent of millennials, Gen Xers, and baby boomers that were surveyed combined.
If therapy’s relatively unpopular, social media is booming, and it seems like many teenagers and young adults have turned to their favorite influencers and online advice to get through tough times. On TikTok, for example, “crashouts” are often encouraged as a necessary form of catharsis. Even if you aren’t naturally experiencing these outbursts, users posit them as a quick and easy fix for stress and anger.
Still, professionals are more skeptical of these viral directives, as they’re being confronted with them at work. Rebecca Hug, a clinical counselor and core faculty in clinical mental health counseling at University of Phoenix, says she regularly encounters clients who’ve “absorbed the idea that emotional ‘crashing’ is a valid coping strategy.”
“This mindset discourages the development of essential skills like self-regulation, resilience, and perspective-taking,” Hug says. While she says these sorts of reactions are “developmentally appropriate for teenagers,” it’s a more crucial problem for people in early adulthood.
New York-based psychologist Sabrina Romanoff shares similar concerns about these viral “crashing outs,” saying that TikTok has become “a double-edged sword for mental health.”
“On one hand, it’s a space where young people can find validation and connect with people who share similar experiences,” she says. “On the other hand, it’s a platform with a high circulation of unqualified advice, often oversimplifying and promoting unhealthy ideas.”
For instance, several videos frame the act of “crashing out” on other people as a joyful and even empowering experience. But at what point do these emotional eruptions become abusive or signal one’s failure in communicating with others?
Romanoff adds that there’s a danger to the internet automatically labeling these sorts of behaviors as “crashouts” without acknowledging possible underlying causes.
“When we see repeated posts about these breakdowns, it can inadvertently create a culture where these moments are expected or even glorified rather than seen as a signal that something deeper needs attention,” she says.
However, vulnerability has also proven to be a recipe for virality and a strategy to build loyal audiences. Hug says the visibility of emotional struggles can “blur the line between authentic expression and performative vulnerability.”
