How society’s obsession with success harms young people’s mental health
What is the value of academic success if it comes at the cost of a young person’s mental well-being? For too long, Bangladesh has measured a young adult's success by categories such as good grades, university admissions, and career choices while overlooking one of the fundamental ingredients of success: mental well-being.
Mental health remains the least discussed aspect of young people’s lives. Why do we celebrate academic achievements and ignore the emotional burden that comes after it? Why is that conversation of mental well-being absent from our classrooms, homes, and national priorities?
To understand why this pattern continues, we must first understand the culture in which many young people are being raised.
In Bangladesh, families and communities often prioritise one’s individual goals. Within this environment, a child’s achievements are seen not only as personal milestones but also as a reflection of family values, sacrifices, and reputation.
Psychologists imply that environments with strong external expectations can contribute to what is known as “contingent self-worth” – the tendency to base one’s sense of value on achievements and external validation. For example, a poor exam result is no longer experienced as simply a disappointing outcome. It can question one’s worth as a person.
The consequences are far beyond the classroom. When self-worth becomes dependent on achievement, failing is no longer experienced as a temporary setback but as a danger to one’s identity. A disappointing exam result can trigger feelings of shame, anxiety, and self-doubt rather than simply motivating the individual for improvement.
Over time, this constant craving for validation for one’s worth may lead to chronic stress and emotional exhaustion. It can also make young people less likely to seek help or speak up openly about their struggles, as doing so might seem inconsistent with the expectations of the culture that so often celebrates toughness, achievements, and success over vulnerability.
Recognising these psychological patterns is not about criticising our culture or diminishing the importance of education. Bangladesh’s focus on learning has opened doors for countless young people, and most parents encourage academic excellence out of genuine love and hope for a brighter future. Yet, good intentions can sometimes have unintended consequences.
This culture of comparison shows itself in everyday interactions. Conversations after major examinations such as the SSC, HSC, or O and A levels frequently begin not with “How are you feeling” but with “How did your exam go?” or “How many marks do you think you will get?” While these questions may seem harmless, they reinforce the idea that academic performance is the most significant measure of a young person’s success.
When grades become the focus of so many conversations, it becomes easy for students to believe that their value is being measured in the same way.
We have been asking the wrong question all along. Instead of wondering whether young people are resilient enough to cope with the pressure placed on them, we should ask why they are expected to do so in the first place.
Valuing well-being does not mean valuing education any less. It simply means believing that no child should have to trade their peace of mind to prove their potential from a very young age.
The solution does not lie in asking young people to become less ambitious, nor in asking parents to care less about education. It lies in changing the way we define success. When flexibility is valued beside achievement, society sees asking for help as strength rather than weakness, and schools nurture emotional well-being, we create an environment where young people are set free to pursue their dreams and succeed without compromising their mental health.
The author is a high school student.
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