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Mental health plays a fundamental role in our lives. It shapes how we think, how we act, and simply interact with the world around us. But in the Philippines, it is often treated as an afterthought — a passing concern, not a pressing need. Mental struggles are often laughed off. Many Filipinos are left to deal with it in silence due to their inability to access professional guidance and necessary consultation fees. Even when they do want to seek help, most of the time, there’s simply no one to turn to. Not because we deny help; but because it's nearly impossible to reach. In countless households, especially among the working class and lower-income families, people often self-conclude and consult. A lot of adults just try to deal with their anxiety alone, and in real life scenarios, treat their children’s mental health struggles the same way — brushing it off with, “Pagod lang ’yan,” or “Kulang ka kasi sa dasal.” It’s not always wrong, sometimes, they really are just tired. But the fact that this is an evident form of mental healthcare, highlights something very important: we do not have enough professionals. In this generation, where youth are most of the time leading the voice whether in political or societal issues, adults cannot help themselves but to compare and contrast what they have experienced back then. To the point that it can become toxic, forcing their beliefs and life experiences to a completely different generation. We are often faced with insensitive questions, statements that tells us mental health problems doesn't even exist before. And the most favorite one of all? “Kaka-cellphone mo kasi ’yan” — which can be really frustrating and emotionally triggering to think about. To some, it’s effectively making them believe that it’s really not an important matter and just a mere mental problem we should shrug and brush off. But this is just another proof that we don’t discuss it properly enough, that some people don’t actually believe in it anymore. The cost to consult a professional just added more weight on how heavy the bag already is. The estimated cost of therapy sessions can roughly range from ₱1,500 to ₱3,000 per hour. A sum that many families would rather spend on basic needs, putting the much needed consultation at the bottom. It’s not just a lack of will, but a lack of structure. The numbers speak for themselves. According to the Department of Health, there is a severe shortage of mental health professionals in the Philippines. Its ratio is concerned with only one psychiatrist and one psychiatric nurse for every 200,000 people, and one psychologist for every one million Filipinos. While the World Health Organization recommends at least ten mental health workers for every 100,000 people. Turns out we are not just behind — we are nowhere near equipped. Worse, the few mental health centers that do exist are often understaffed and underfunded. Many hospitals, especially in rural areas, don’t even have a single psychiatrist, and most public school guidance counselors are overwhelmed with hundreds or thousands of students. This shortage creates a dangerous cycle. Many trained mental health professionals are underpaid, overworked, and undervalued. Despite spending years in education and training, many are forced to take on multiple jobs or migrate abroad to earn a livable wage. It’s a whole new layer of the healthcare brain drain, one we cannot afford. As their workload increases and their salaries remain low, more and more professionals are choosing to leave, further deepening the gap between patients and how we respond to healthcare. As of 2025, the Philippine government allocated around ₱300 billion for the entire health sector. But when you zoom into how much of that is allotted for mental health, it’s shocking. We have less than 5% to spend on psychiatric services, community programs, and specialized facilities. What does that look like on the ground? It means no consistent mental health programs in schools. It means trauma survivors have no place to turn to. It means almost entire barangays have zero access to a trained mental health worker. It means that even when people are ready to ask for help, there’s simply no help to give. We often say “health is wealth,” yet our systems continue to pour funding into infrastructures without truly seeing people. The very human lives behind the numbers. A society that refuses to invest in healing will pay the price in other ways: in broken relationships, lost potential, and lives that could’ve been saved if only we had enough professionals, enough support, and enough care. No child should grow up thinking they’re broken just because it’s difficult to reach for help. No adult should suffer in silence just because they can’t afford to speak to someone. Mental health is not just a subject. It’s not just a talking point during campaigns or a theme during Mental Health Awareness Month. It is a fundamental part of our well-being, and it is just as real and urgent as physical illness. But we cannot keep calling it fundamental if we don’t fund it like it is. We cannot call for healing if we don’t build the systems that make healing possible. Mental health is fundamental. And it’s time we fund it, pay attention to it, fully, fairly, and urgently.