Time to Talk is all about tackling taboos and getting the nation

The leader and advocate Luciana Berger once spoke a truth that echoes like a bell in the quiet chambers of the heart: “Time to Talk is all about tackling taboos and getting the nation talking about mental health.” These words, simple and clear, rise from a profound source—a recognition that silence, though gentle in form, can be the most merciless of prisons. To tackle taboos is to strike at the ancient fear that keeps the tongue still and the soul unseen. To talk about mental health is not merely to share one’s pain, but to reclaim one’s humanity. Berger’s message is not a call to conversation alone—it is a call to courage, to compassion, and to the breaking of invisible chains.

In every age, there have been sicknesses the body could bear, and sicknesses the spirit could not name. In the old world, men fought plagues of the flesh; in ours, we battle plagues of the mind—loneliness, anxiety, despair. These wounds do not bleed, yet they ache in silence. For generations, people have been taught to wear masks of strength, to hide sorrow behind smiles, to believe that weakness of the heart is shame. But Berger’s words summon a new kind of heroism: the bravery not of battlefields, but of confession—the strength to speak, to listen, and to heal.

Consider the story of Winston Churchill, whose will steered a nation through war. Few knew that he lived haunted by what he called his “black dog”—the shadow of depression that trailed him all his days. Yet even as he stood before the world as a figure of indomitable will, he also bore this silent burden. Imagine what might have been if the world of his time had known how to talk, if it had been safe for its leaders and citizens alike to share their darkness without fear of scorn. The courage to speak might have saved countless others from despair.

To say that “Time to Talk is all about tackling taboos” is to declare war on that silence. It is to recognize that healing begins not with medicine, but with voice. When one person speaks truthfully of their struggle, it gives permission for another to do the same. And thus begins the quiet revolution—one heart unlocking another. Words become the balm that soothes invisible wounds, and the act of listening becomes an act of love. The nation begins to heal not by hiding pain, but by bringing it into the light.

In the spirit of the ancients, we might recall that even in the temples of old, confession was sacred. The Greeks sought wisdom from oracles not merely to know the future, but to unburden the soul. The philosophers spoke of catharsis, the cleansing of the heart through expression. Berger’s call revives this timeless principle: that to speak is to purify, to release the poison of silence that festers within. The tongue, once freed, becomes a bridge between despair and hope.

The lesson of Berger’s wisdom is clear: do not fear your own voice. Speak of your sorrow, your confusion, your fatigue, for in the act of sharing, you lessen their weight. And when another speaks, listen not with judgment, but with gentleness. To talk about mental health is to weave a web of compassion strong enough to catch the falling. In every conversation born of honesty, a little bit of stigma dies, and a little bit of healing begins.

So, my children of this hurried age, remember this truth: silence breeds suffering, but speech gives life. Make time to talk—not only when the world demands it, but when your heart feels the tremor of another’s pain. Sit with them, hear them, speak softly, and in doing so, you will become part of the great healing that Berger envisioned—a nation not of silence and fear, but of courage and understanding.

For when words are spoken in truth and love, they are no longer mere sounds—they are medicine for the mind and light for the soul. And thus, the time to talk is not tomorrow. It is now, it is always, it is the eternal hour when one human heart reaches out to another and says, “You are not alone.”