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It’s Not You, It’s The System: Rethinking Mental Health Through Dr. Joanna Cheek’s Lens 

Mental health is one of the most widely discussed topics in our society, especially within the science and healthcare communities. In the month of January 2026, more than 2 million people contacted the NHS about gaining access to mental health services (Mind), yet much of the discussion centres on individual-level solutions: building resilience, practising self-care, or “managing” stress more effectively. While each of these are valuable strategies, they do not fully address the problem and they risk implying that distress is a personal failing to be solved privately. In It’s Not You, It’s the World, psychiatrist Dr Joanna Cheek challenges this narrative. She argues that the distress many of us are experiencing is not a sign of dysfunction but rather a reasonable response to a world that is struggling. To address this, we need to focus not just on individual care but on collectively fighting the systemic conditions in our world that generate distress in the first place. 


It is widely acknowledged that mental health symptoms, like anxiety, low mood, and burnout, are signs of an imbalanced internal equilibrium and a need for rest or change in one’s environment. Cheek reinforces the idea that these signs arise from the brain’s adaptive system, much like a canary in a coal mine: when boundaries are crossed, or chronic stress reaches your limit, warning signs blare. Drawing on research on intergenerational trauma, she emphasises that our nervous system has been shaped not only by our own experiences, but also those of our ancestors, priming some of us to be on higher alert than others. 


Jehannine Austin’s Jar Model offers one of the book’s most helpful visuals. Imagine the body as a jar filled with balls representing genetic loading and intergenerational burdens; as we move through life, environmental stressors are added until the jar nears capacity. When it overflows, anxiety or low mood emerge as signals that something needs to change. We may expand the jar through tangible actions, like getting better sleep or exercising more, or by redefining our relationship with ourselves, setting boundaries, or regulating emotions. 


In the context of academia, it is not difficult to see what fills the jar: precarious short-term contracts, relentless evaluation, metric-driven cultures, and expectations of constant availability sit alongside life outside work. Seen through Cheek’s lens, struggling to “cope” in such conditions looks less like a personal flaw and more like an understandable response. As someone in academia who has struggled with anxiety, I found this framing deeply validating. Rather than interpreting difficult periods as evidence of personal inadequacy, Cheek invites readers to view them as signals that a set of different tools, resources, or forms of support are needed. She offers several concrete strategies, including grounding techniques, self compassion practices, and the R.A.I.N. framework (recognise, allow, investigate, nurture), which encourages readers to meet their internal experiences with curiosity rather than self-criticism. To implement this technique during a moment of anxiety for example, first recognise what is happening and label the thoughts or emotions that come up. Then allow those thoughts and emotions to exist rather than trying to repress or deny them. Next, investigate where in the body those emotions sit, what types of triggers might have brought up the thoughts or emotions, and what is needed to address the most pressing emotion or thought. Then take a step back and try to observe the trigger, the thoughts, the emotions, and the sensations from a distance without judgement, and reassure and nurture them, as a caregiver would if this was a physical injury. This framework is a valuable tool to help address and mitigate stress responses in the moment, and a powerful reminder that thoughts will pass if we let them. 


Cheek goes on to argue that, before we can fully address the stressors we face in our own lifetimes, it is important to consider how intergenerational trauma has shaped our nervous systems. Drawing on compassion-based practices and psychotherapy, she stresses the value of cultivating compassion for ourselves, our ancestors, and those around us as a foundation for healing. From this foundation, she introduces tools such as the “ABCs of regulation” (agency, bonding, and containment), and the “dial of activation,” which help readers identify which needs are being threatened and where they sit on a spectrum from shutdown to overwhelm. These models are especially useful for those of us in high-pressure environments, offering a way to pause and ask ourselves: what exactly is being activated here, and what would actually help? 


One of the book’s most important contributions is its insistence that mental health cannot be fully understood or addressed at the individual level alone. Our well-being is deeply shaped by the environments we inhabit and the relationships we maintain. Structural factors such as social inequality, political instability, and community disconnection all contribute to a cumulative burden of stress that no amount of “better self-care” can resolve on its own. For academics and early-career researchers, like me, who constantly face the endless choices of moving to new cities or countries for their studies, fighting for funding and publishing their work, and competing for long-term positions, these pressures can disrupt social networks and heighten feelings of isolation. Cheek is careful not to dismiss the importance of individual strategies like therapy, medication, or mindfulness; she challenges the idea that these alone are insufficient. Instead, she advocates for a dual approach: developing personal tools, while also working collectively to change the system that generates distress. She weaves together insights from neuroscience, psychology, and social theory in a way that remains accessible, even when the sheer volume of concepts and references can feel dense for such a concisely packaged tool guide. That density, however, also makes the book a resource to revisit over time rather than a one-off read. 


A recurring theme throughout the book is the importance of connection. Research consistently shows that meaningful social relationships are critical for both mental and physical health, reducing stress and enhancing resilience. She highlights that our everyday connections, both close relationships and “weak ties”, quietly foster a sense of belonging. In scientific and academic environments, where long hours, competition, and pressure can easily foster isolation, this emphasis feels particularly important. For academic communities, Cheek’s argument invites us to think beyond encouraging individuals to be more resilient. If distress is, at least in part, a reasonable response to harmful or unsustainable conditions, then any serious response needs to include changes to culture and structure. That might involve rethinking how workloads are distributed, how success is defined, and how much room exists for care, rest, and community in our departments and research groups. 


Ultimately, It’s Not You, It’s the World invites readers to reconsider how they interpret their struggles. The common idea that those who cope well possess greater resilience or discipline obscures the complex interplay of stressors, resources, and supports that shape individual experience. As Cheek writes, “to help ourselves, we must also care for our collective,” a line that captures the book’s central message. For those of us in and around academia, it offers not just another set of coping strategies, but a language for verbalising how our systems contribute to distress, as well as a prompt to imagine what our research cultures might look like if care for the collective were taken as seriously as productivity. In reframing distress as a signal rather than a defect, the book offers not only validation, but also a call to action: to approach ourselves with compassion, and to work collectively toward creating a world that is more sustainable and less harmful to inhabit.


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This article was written by Marisa Edmonds and edited by Rebecca Pope, with graphics produced by Neave Smith. If you enjoyed this article, be the first to be notified about new posts by signing up to become a WiNUK member (top right of this page)! Interested in writing for WiNUK yourself? Contact us through the blog page and the editors will be in touch.

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