How to explain therapy to a mother who was taught to pray it away and keep moving

When the weight of everything became too much at thirty-six, I finally called a therapist. I didn't tell my mother for six months.

Not because I was ashamed, exactly. But because I knew what she'd say. The same thing she'd said when I cried about being passed over for promotion. The same thing she'd said when my college roommate attempted suicide. The same thing she'd always said: "Have you prayed about it?"

Prayer was her answer to everything. Depression? Pray harder. Anxiety? More faith. Professional burnout that had me crying in parking lots? Obviously not trusting God enough.

Here's what I've learned about bridging this gap. You don't need to convince your mother that her faith is wrong. You need to help her see that therapy and prayer can coexist.

1. Understand where the resistance comes from

My mother grew up in a generation where mental health struggles were taboo. According to research on generational differences, older generations often view mental illness as something to be hidden, attached to various misconceptions and a complex of inferiority.

For many mothers raised in religious households, seeking help from anyone other than God can feel like a betrayal of faith. As one ordained Christian minister explained, there's a perception among some people of faith that seeking help from man instead of God signals spiritual weakness.

Understanding this helps you recognize that your mother's resistance probably stems from how she was raised, not from a lack of love for you.

When I finally understood this, I stopped being angry and started being strategic.

2. Frame therapy as an extension of self-care, not a replacement for faith

One of the biggest misconceptions is that therapy replaces prayer or contradicts religious teachings.

It doesn't.

I told my mother that therapy was like going to a doctor for a broken bone. You can pray for healing, absolutely. But you also set the bone, get a cast, do physical therapy. Prayer and medicine work together.

The same applies to mental health. Therapy doesn't mean you've stopped praying. It means you're using all the tools available to you.

Many faith traditions actually support this approach. There are growing resources on reconciling religion and therapy, with many religious leaders acknowledging that nothing in biblical teachings conflicts with seeking professional help.

3. Start with "I" statements, not accusations

When I finally told my mother I was in therapy, I didn't say, "You never supported my mental health." I said, "I've been struggling with burnout, and I found someone who's helping me work through it."

The difference matters.

"I" statements focus on your experience without making your mother defensive. Instead of "You always told me to just pray," try "I've been feeling overwhelmed, and therapy is giving me tools to cope."

This approach, recommended by mental health professionals, decreases the likelihood of blame or shame. It invites conversation instead of argument.

4. Share tangible improvements, not abstract concepts

My mother didn't understand what therapy was doing for me until I showed her.

I started sleeping better. I set boundaries at work. I stopped having panic attacks in my car before meetings. These weren't abstract ideas about "processing emotions." They were real, visible changes.

Sometimes when our elders see how our quality of life has improved, they become more open to the idea. My mother noticed I seemed calmer, more present during our phone calls. That mattered more than any explanation I could give.

Don't feel pressured to share every detail of your sessions. But highlighting concrete positive changes can make therapy feel less threatening and more practical.

5. Find a therapist who respects faith

This was huge for me.

My first therapist made dismissive comments about religion that made me uncomfortable. I switched to someone who understood that faith could be part of the healing process, not an obstacle to it.

There are therapists who specialize in working with religious clients. They understand how to incorporate spirituality into treatment without compromising professional care. Many will even integrate prayer or scripture into sessions if that's what you want.

When I told my mother that my therapist prayed with me at the end of our sessions, something shifted. Therapy suddenly felt less like abandoning faith and more like deepening it.

6. Acknowledge that you might not get her approval

Here's the hard truth: you might do everything right and your mother still might not understand.

She might continue to see therapy as weakness. She might keep suggesting you pray more, trust God more, try harder. That's her limitation, not yours.

At some point, you have to make peace with seeking help even without her blessing.

I wish I could tell you that my mother fully embraced my therapy journey. The truth is more complicated. She accepts it now, mostly. She still occasionally asks if I've "tried just giving it to God." But she also asks how my sessions are going and celebrates my progress.

That's enough.

7. Seek support elsewhere if needed

If your mother remains unsupportive, build your support system in other places.

Talk to friends who understand. Connect with others who've navigated this same tension between faith and mental health care. Find online communities where people share your experience.

You don't need your mother's permission to take care of yourself. Her approval would be nice, but it's not required.

When I started therapy, I needed my mother to validate my decision. Now I understand that my healing doesn't depend on her understanding. It just is.

Final thoughts

The generational gap in mental health perspectives is real. Gen Z is three times more likely to seek therapy than the Silent Generation. The difference isn't just about awareness. It's about fundamentally different worldviews shaped by different experiences.

Your mother grew up in a time when admitting mental health struggles could mean being institutionalized, stigmatized, or outcast. That context shaped her beliefs in ways that are hard to undo.

You can educate her gently, share your experience honestly, and invite her to see therapy differently. But ultimately, you can't control her response.

What you can control is your commitment to your own well-being. Sometimes the bravest thing we do is take care of ourselves even when the people we love don't understand why we need to.