When a surgeon performs a successful operation, the results are visible and measurable. The wound heals. The scans are clearer. The patient walks out of the hospital with tangible evidence of recovery. Gratitude pours in, and rightly so. The value of the surgeon’s expertise is recognised in the way society views and rewards their work, from the prestige of the title to the trust in their skills. Now compare that with the work of a mental health professional.
A therapist, counsellor, psychologist or mental health nurse might work with someone on the edge of crisis, helping them make sense of their emotional chaos, untangle deeply-rooted patterns or simply hold space for a pain that has no words. If this work is successful, what happens? Nothing. That’s the point. A crisis doesn’t happen. The worst is averted. And yet, because that crisis was prevented. not treated, it’s invisible and this is where the problem lies.
The unseen wins of mental health work are huge. Mental health professionals often work in spaces that are deeply private and emotionally complex. When we help someone not act on suicidal thoughts, not fall into addiction, not explode with rage at their partner or child, these are silent victories. No sirens, no hospital beds, no visible scars. Just a shift. A moment of pause. A life held together by invisible threads.
Unfortunately society doesn’t reward the invisible. Prevention doesn’t make headlines. Crisis management does. We’ll applaud the doctor who performs an operation on someone who had an overdose for example but rarely acknowledge the therapist who helped someone else never reach for the drug in the first place. One is seen as heroic, the other is abstract.
How can we quantify the unquantifiable? A major reason mental health work is undervalued is that it resists easy measurement. You can’t truly scan for grief. You can’t stitch up trauma. You can’t take a blood test to see if a person is finally learning to forgive themselves or set boundaries for the first time in their life and prevent future suffering. Physical health has benchmarks, metrics, machines. Mental health has stories, patterns, questions. In a culture that is obsessed with productivity, numbers and outcomes, the nuanced, qualitative nature of psychological work can be seen as “soft”, when in fact it often requires immense skill, patience and emotional courage.
Are mental health professionals in the shadows? Mental health professionals are not only working in a system that undervalues prevention but often in conditions that undervalue them too. Many are underpaid compared to their physical health counterparts. Burnout is high. Emotional labour is constant. And recognition? Rare. There is also the misconception that mental health work is simply “listening”, as if trained professionals aren’t drawing from years of education, supervision, ethical practice, theoretical frameworks and finely-tuned relational intelligence. No one would say a cardiac surgeon “just cuts things open”, yet similar dismissals are common in the mental health field.
We need to radically reframe how we value mental health and those who support it. Prevention is success. Emotional regulation is life-saving. Early intervention changes generational patterns. Healing might not leave stitches but it leaves strength. It’s time we start seeing the invisible work of mental health as just as vital, if not more so, than what we can measure. Because without it, all the physical recovery in the world won’t matter if people are still suffering inside.
Let’s start recognising not just the physical health crises that were managed but the ones that never had to happen because a mental health professional knew how to do a good job.
