The Problem Is Not You, It's the System
By Zsuzsa Gyarmati
Ispired by the book "A Different Way to Learn" by Naomi Fisher
When someone faces serious difficulty integrating into the social system - into what we call “adult life” - they usually encounter two kinds of explanations: either the problem lies with them - with their effort - or with their nervous system functioning. Both approaches can offer support, yet both can also be misleading.
Not because they are untrue, but because they locate the cause exclusively within the individual.
When we emphasize personal responsibility, in the best case we encourage growth; in the worst case we simply label the person as lazy or incompetent — someone who does not deserve support because they are not doing enough for themselves.
If we look for the explanation in the brain, we usually arrive at diagnoses. We speak about neural wiring, hormonal regulation, and chemical balance. This path often brings relief and opens the way to self-compassion. It is not surprising that many people move in this direction.
The problem is not that these explanations are false, but that they are insufficient on their own.
What is missing is the factor that fundamentally shapes all behavior: context. Behavior emerges at the intersection of the individual and the situation.
And it is not only the situation that matters - the standard itself is not constant. The same way of functioning can be seen as a deviation in one context and as completely ordinary in another.
In Hungary, a child who reads independently at an early age may be considered exceptional, even interpreted as a potential problem. In contrast, in England this is an expectation — there, delay becomes the issue. The child does not change at the border; the system against which they are measured does.
Speaking from personal experience: when I lived in Germany, I experienced myself as too much, too emotional, which made me increasingly anxious. In Spain, the same way of functioning was considered completely ordinary. I did not change - the standard, the environment did.
This is true not only across cultures, but also across social categories: we assign very different meanings to the same behavior depending on who expresses it. The same intense or challenging behavior is judged differently in a boy than in a girl.
We ourselves are not the same in every situation.
We do not just show different faces - we experience different versions of ourselves.
Yet when someone does not function in the expected way, we first look for the cause within the individual - not in the situation, and especially not in the quality of the fit.
Is it really a realistic expectation that every child should be able to spend their days in a closed space, learning together with 25–30 others — people they have nothing in common with except being born in the same year?
How self-evident is it that the same level of noise, light, and rhythm is suitable for everyone?
Even among adults, only a small, privileged group can decide on their environment - its rhythm and level of demand. For the rest, there is no real choice. There is, however, diagnosis - and with it the possibility of at least partially avoiding blame.
As long as the question is framed as “is the individual at fault, or is it their brain?”, the conclusion is already decided. We are not looking for a real solution, but for ways to make the individual fit the system.
Meanwhile, the environment in which their way of functioning became a problem remains untouched.
Just as a water plant cannot survive in desert sand, we cannot expect a human being to remain healthy in any environment - regardless of their basic needs.
You can read more about my professional approach and perspective here, and you can find my professional CV here.
Written by Zsuzsa Gyarmati
Inspired by Robert Chapman’s Empire of Normality
Whenever I hear the indignant question, "Are you insane? Is that even normal???" – I feel a visceral sense of unease. We are quick to label those we don’t understand or don’t like as "abnormal," while more and more people seem to feel "abnormal" from the inside out. Others see themselves as normal, believing it is the world itself that has become abnormal.
What about normality as a scientific category? And what about diagnoses?
Many professionals argue that the proliferation of diagnoses - such as Autism, ADHD, or mood disorders like depression - is simply because we know so much more about these phenomena and can diagnose them more accurately. Others point to certain "civilizational" factors (e.g., the digital age, environmental toxins) as the cause. We know, however, that these phenomena are multifactorial processes on one hand, and on the other, it is increasingly likely that they should be viewed as umbrella terms for several distinct phenomena. In other words, individuals with vastly different biological pathways may end up under the same diagnostic umbrella.
While more and more people are being pushed out of the category of "normality," a system-critical perspective rarely appears in mainstream explanations. Yet, as we will see, normality itself is a social construct, and far less tangible than we would like to believe.
Where Does the Concept of Normality Come From?
In the grand timeline of human history, this is a remarkably young concept - less than a century old. We borrowed the ideal of normality from the methodology of astronomy, creating the statistical concept of the "average man," which we then imposed upon ourselves as an ideal to be achieved and enforced.
In the "marriage" of industrialization and capitalism, the average man became an industrial standard: productive, interchangeable, and efficient. In this view, a deviation from the average is not merely an eccentricity - it is synonymous with being "defective." When the concept entered the system of psychiatry in the twentieth century, it offered a convenient explanation for why masses of people seemed "unfit" to integrate into the modern social order.
Of course, let us not deny that diagnostic-based care - whether pharmacological or therapeutic - serves as a vital lifeline for many. At the same time, we must see how our current systems shield society from necessary self-reflection: if the fault lies within the individual, we don't have to ask questions about the justice of the system.
"But surely everything is accepted today, isn't it?"
The evidence suggests we have crossed a line: the sense of "unfitness" felt by such vast numbers of people cannot be an individual failure or an individual responsibility. Behind the flood of diagnoses, a community is indeed forming that demands systemic transformation instead of "fixing themselves." Yet, there is no sign that this movement is forcing the system into self-reflection. Instead of outright oppression, the logic of the market "invites the critic to the table," turning it into a performative political product through tokenism and other symbolic gestures. While life may have become slightly easier for certain privileged groups, the system continues to let down the masses.
But if this, too, is a trap, what can be done?
I do not know the ultimate solution myself. It is painful to see so many people viewing themselves as "defective" - thinking they are the only ones who somehow "can't hack adulthood," or that what seems so easy for "everyone else" is somehow beyond their reach. I believe that organizing into communities helps. I believe that local actions matter. I believe it matters how we treat one another in our daily lives, and whether we are capable of looking at each other differently: with genuine solidarity and a sincere intent to understand. Whether we encourage and support one another to seek the possibilities of liberation.
You can read more about my professional approach and perspective here, and you can find my professional CV here.
“I’m simply fed up. I try to be patient. I try to be caring. To listen to their feelings, to empathize. Meanwhile, I try to keep up with my own things. And yet, again, I feel like I can’t go on. Yes, I know, I should have more ‘me-time.’ And I should keep a gratitude journal. I know I should pay more attention to these things, too. But I don’t feel that it would help, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
- A quote from a voice message from a friend of mine who is at home with two small children. And yes, a voice message - because if we waited until we could actually call each other, we wouldn’t be able to stay present in each other’s lives even this much.
Why did she phrase it this way? How many times might she have received “me-time” or a gratitude journal as a response to her struggles? Was it said just before - or just after - someone added that this is the most beautiful time of her life, and it will pass so quickly?
Self-care is indeed important. But what if we use it merely as a way to leave those who are suffering on their own?
Anyone who has seen a mother of young children up close recently will likely recognize the isolation, the endless sea of expectations, the constant anxiety and guilt. Their proportions depend on many factors, partly on the availability of economic, social, and informational resources.
And this is where self-care comes in: it is essentially the search for access to one’s internal resources, the learning and practicing of self-soothing, and the protection of ourselves and our boundaries.
One of the problems is that we are far from equal in terms of how accessible all of this is to us. This is when we hear things like “you have time for what you want,” or more deeply, “you just don’t want it enough,” and at the deepest level, the fatalistic pit of victim-blaming—the familiar “you attract it.”
Let’s be clear:
We do NOT have time for what we would like to have time for.
We have time for what remains after the hours we sell in the labor market and the unpaid (and often invisible) work we perform. For a parent - especially a mother - this “remaining time” often only exists if they physically leave the space. At home, they are constantly surrounded by tasks and expectations.
Another problem I see is this: when large numbers of people share that despite all their efforts they feel unwell, overwhelmed, exhausted - and my response is that they should practice self-care - what is the actual message? That they cannot expect help, and that the problem ultimately lies within them.
So should we not practice self-care?
Self-care is truly an indispensable tool. I cannot imagine therapeutic work without it. But it does not solve structural problems; it does not create greater equality, nor does it make people’s lives more just. As the sole response, it invalidates the complaint, rejects it - and further isolates the person who is suffering.
It sends the message: “It’s your fault.”
So what can be done?
To begin with, let’s think in reverse: what can we do for those who are suffering around us?
First, listen to them and believe them. If we can, take real burdens off their shoulders and offer care instead of prescribing self-care. If we have available resources - whether time, money, or expertise - support initiatives that aim for systemic change in the causes that matter to us.
But above all: let’s not leave each other alone.
You can read more about my professional approach and perspective here, and you can find my professional CV here.