Why are the older generation more resilient, and why are young people more prone to depression? This is not a contest of "toughness" versus "fragility"; it's two completely different boxing matches with different rules.

The older generation fought street brawls against opponents who were hungry and poor, with clear goals: land a punch that draws blood, win to get food, lose and starve. Simple, brutal, direct.
Young people are engaged in an invisible "spiritual internal war," surrounded by mirrors, fighting their own shadows. The biggest enemy is the voices in their heads. There’s no knockout—only endless exhaustion.
The hardships of the older generation are extremely concrete: hunger, cold winters, crops destroyed by hail. Goals are clear, feedback is direct. When hungry, find food; when cold, find firewood. The feedback loop is as short as possible. Their world is like early video games—fighting monsters, collecting loot, leveling up. Monsters are tough but you know defeating them yields rewards. This certainty is their anchor.
"Collective suffering" dilutes individual pain; everyone is equally exposed, so no one feels embarrassed. Information channels are closed; they know only a hundred or so people in their lifetime. Comparisons are limited to the neighbor Lao Wang—just tiptoe a little and you can keep up, avoiding the despair of "my life is over." Depression was a luxury in that era.
The suffering of young people is abstract and floating. Unlike hunger, which has a clear pain, or cold, which has concrete solutions, it’s like toxic gases permeating the air—invisible, intangible, but constantly eroding nerves.
The root of pain lies in the collapse of "certainty." The old script was clear: study hard, get into a good university, find a good job, marry, have children, buy a house and a car. Although crowded, the path was visible.
Now, that path has been shattered. The diploma earned through hard study is worthless; large companies' 996 work culture ends at age 35 with layoffs; emptying six wallets to buy a house, fearing unemployment will take it away. Effort no longer guarantees success, let alone survival.
The disconnection between effort and reward is the first bullet that destroys mental defenses. Like grinding monsters all day in a game, only to be told your experience resets and your gear is gone.
The enemies of young people are vague internal ones: anxiety, confusion, uncertainty. The biggest enemy becomes "other people's children," amplified infinitely in the internet age.
Open your phone and it’s all "Post-95s earning millions a month," "Post-00s quitting their jobs to travel," "At 25, seven-figure savings," stabbing your heart like a poisoned dagger. You start doubting why others are so awesome and you’re so trash.
In the past, comparisons were only with the neighbor Lao Wang; now, it’s with the most talented people in the world. Social media uses ten-level beauty filters to showcase glamorous lives, while you compare your behind-the-scenes data with others’ front-stage performances. The more you compare, the more anxious and hopeless you become, ultimately attacking and tormenting yourself. That’s the beginning of depression.
Young people have too many choices, which equals no real choice. The older generation had no choice—born in rural areas, likely lifelong farmers. Acceptance sometimes is a form of liberation.
Now, the world unfolds an infinite canvas of possibilities—technically, anything can be done. But in reality, nothing can be done; every choice involves huge costs and risks, and you have nothing. The illusion of "endless possibilities" clashes with the harsh reality of "difficult to make progress," creating a huge rift, leading to decision paralysis. Fear of making the wrong choice leaves you stuck, consumed by anxiety and confusion.
The older generation’s mental world is like a Nokia phone—few functions but durable, with enough battery, and a CPU that only handles one task: survive.
Young people's mental world is like the latest smartphone—powerful, with countless apps, always running dozens of programs in the background, the CPU overwhelmed, battery draining rapidly, prone to overheating and crashing.
What to do? Remove the "comparator" in your mind, genuinely accept that most people are ordinary, and see online success stories as just stories, not truths.
Turn off social circles and anxiety apps, refocus on yourself. Break down grand goals into specific small tasks to gain a real sense of control.
Learn "separating the issues"—distinguish what’s yours from what’s others’. Drop others’ expectations, evaluations, and emotions. Allow yourself to fail, mess up, or lie flat. Stop constantly demanding to be perfect and excellent; only then can your inner self truly find freedom.
The older generation and young people are both facing their respective eras’ "invisible corridors"—no one is nobler or easier. Their maps are printed on paper, with clear routes; ours are digital, constantly updated, with navigation constantly saying "Traffic jam ahead, please re-route," "You have deviated from the route," "Destination does not exist."
Don’t judge yourself by the standards of the previous generation. These scars are not shame—they are medals, proof that you are still thinking, feeling, struggling, and alive. That’s enough.