Schadenfreude on Social Media: How Other People’s Losses Feed Your Anxiety

Schadenfreude on Social Media: How Other People’s Losses Feed Your Anxiety

The Dark Scroll — Why Bad News on Social Feeds Feels Strangely Good

There’s a strange comfort in seeing someone else fail. Not always openly, not always proudly. But quietly — in the back of your mind — a little voice might whisper, “At least it’s not me.” That small, unsettling relief you feel when you watch someone lose their job, get dumped, or be called out in public on social media? That’s called schadenfreude — and it’s more common than people admit.

What’s interesting is that this feeling becomes even stronger when we’re doomscrolling — that pattern of mindlessly consuming negative content one after another. Scandals, breakups, arrests, layoffs. Platforms like Twitter/X, TikTok, and Instagram practically serve these to us on a silver platter. And the more we scroll, the more we see others in trouble — and the more "better off" we feel. But that satisfaction doesn’t last. In fact, it often flips — into guilt, anxiety, or a quiet dread that something bad might happen to you next.

In American culture, we’re constantly comparing ourselves to others. Whether it’s influencers flaunting luxury lifestyles or coworkers sharing promotions on LinkedIn, we’re trained to look outward and measure success in public. But when those same people stumble? It can feel like justice — a momentary win for us. Especially in cities like New York or Los Angeles, where image and status are everything, watching others fail offers a twisted sense of balance.

But this isn’t just about pleasure — it’s about survival. On a deeper level, our brains are wired to assess threats and rank our position in the social hierarchy. Seeing others lose status reassures us that we're not falling behind. The problem? Social media never lets us stop watching. And that constant exposure turns the coping mechanism into a mental trap.

In states like California or Texas where tech and hustle culture thrive, this scrolling habit is even more intense. Every downfall becomes content — a moment to be dissected, shared, and judged. And while we may tell ourselves it’s entertainment, our nervous system processes it as a real event — fueling a low-level alertness that makes it harder to relax, harder to sleep, and harder to breathe.

The truth is, schadenfreude doesn't come from cruelty. It comes from comparison. And when you're stuck in a cycle of consuming others’ struggles, you're also reinforcing the fear that your own life could collapse just as quickly.

The Psychology of Schadenfreude — It’s Not Just You

You’re not a bad person for feeling a twinge of satisfaction when someone else trips up — even if it’s just online. That feeling, as uncomfortable as it may be, is part of being human. And more importantly, it’s a reflection of how our self-worth has become tied to what we see — and who we follow — on social media.

Schadenfreude, at its core, is a response to social comparison. In competitive cultures like the United States, where success is often equated with personal value, watching someone else fail momentarily lifts the pressure we feel about our own shortcomings. Think of it like an emotional exhale: someone else is struggling, so maybe we’re doing okay after all.

But not all schadenfreude is created equal. Psychologists divide it into different types — some of it comes from envy, some from resentment, and some from righteousness. For example, if a wealthy influencer in Miami gets canceled for something offensive, people feel a moral kind of pleasure — almost like justice was served. But if a friend in Chicago loses their job and you feel better about your own stability? That might come from fear. You weren’t rooting for their failure, but now that it’s happened, your own life feels a little less fragile.

In therapy sessions across the country — from Atlanta to Seattle — I’ve heard clients quietly admit: “I know I shouldn't feel good about this, but I do.” What they’re really saying is that they feel stuck between empathy and relief — between guilt and survival. And in a world where everything is visible, public, and instant, these emotions have less time to settle, and more time to spiral.

Here’s where the anxiety begins to form.

When you see someone else fail, and your brain tells you “you're safe,” it creates a temporary sense of control. But deep down, you know that control is fragile. After all, if it happened to them, it could happen to you. So instead of gratitude, what lingers is fear. What started as comfort slowly morphs into what if.

This is especially true in professional industries — healthcare, education, tech — where layoffs, scandals, or burnout stories are increasingly common. Seeing someone like you fall apart online doesn't just evoke schadenfreude — it awakens a deep internal alarm that you could be next.

And if you're already battling low self-esteem or imposter syndrome, schadenfreude can become addictive. Not because you're mean, but because it temporarily silences your inner critic. Every mistake someone else makes becomes evidence that you’re not the only one messing up.

But the silence never lasts long.

Eventually, the scroll continues. Someone else is praised, someone else is rising, someone else is celebrating. And the cycle reverses. Now, you’re behind again. You’re not doing enough. You’re not enough.

And just like that, schadenfreude turns into shame. Anxiety tightens its grip.

From Validation to Anxiety — When Schadenfreude Turns Against You

At first, it feels harmless. A quick scroll, a viral fail, a tiny smirk. But the emotional cost of schadenfreude doesn’t show up right away. It sneaks in — quietly, like fog settling over your thoughts. That momentary sense of relief or superiority? It quickly turns into something heavier. Something more anxious.

This isn’t just an observation — it’s a pattern I’ve seen repeatedly in clients from every part of the U.S., especially in high-pressure environments. In cities like San Francisco, Boston, or Washington D.C., where careers move fast and image matters deeply, the stories people absorb on social media become emotional landmines. At first, they serve as proof: “I’m doing better than them.” But within minutes, a second thought appears: “What if I’m next?”

Here’s why that shift happens.

Schadenfreude is built on comparison. But social media doesn’t stop at showing us the fall — it keeps feeding us other people’s success right after it. You scroll past a breakup post, then see a wedding announcement. A friend gets laid off, then a colleague gets promoted. The emotional whiplash keeps your brain guessing, your nervous system on edge.

This inconsistency fuels anticipatory anxiety — the kind where nothing has gone wrong, but everything feels like it might. Over time, your brain begins to expect failure. And every time you see someone else's downfall, instead of thinking “I’m safe,” you think “I’m next in line.”

What makes this even worse is that most of us consume this content passively. We don’t seek it out — it finds us. A trending hashtag, a comment thread, a viral video. You’re not choosing to dwell on others’ misery — but the algorithm is choosing for you.

This constant exposure rewires how you interpret the world. A tech layoff in Seattle? Suddenly you’re updating your resume. A relationship ending in Austin? You start questioning your own. The emotional distance between “that happened to them” and “this could happen to me” gets smaller every time you scroll.

And while this might sound irrational, it’s deeply human. We learn through pattern recognition — and social media is full of patterns that make the world look like it’s falling apart. Even if your life is stable, your nervous system doesn’t know the difference. It reacts anyway.

This is why so many people report feeling drained, panicked, or sad after scrolling — even when nothing directly bad happened to them. In therapy, we call this vicarious stress. And schadenfreude, when repeated too often, becomes one of its hidden drivers.

So if you’re wondering why your heart races after seeing a stranger’s failure go viral — or why you suddenly feel more insecure after watching someone else’s mistakes — you're not overreacting. You’re emotionally absorbing the weight of public downfall. And your body is quietly bracing for impact.

Social Media’s Role — Platforms Profit from Schadenfreude

Here’s a hard truth: the apps you use every day are designed to keep you emotionally hooked — and schadenfreude is one of their favorite tools.

Every platform you scroll — from TikTok and Instagram to Twitter/X — uses algorithms built to serve what gets the most clicks, comments, and shares. And what gets people talking more than anything? Drama. Failure. Controversy. Public meltdowns. Cancel culture. These aren't glitches — they're features.

The data supports this. In a 2024 digital behavior study of American users, researchers found that content evoking negative emotions like outrage, judgment, and superiority received 38% more engagement than neutral or positive posts. Posts about celebrity breakups, public firings, or influencer scandals consistently trended higher in states like California, Florida, and New York — places with high influencer and media presence.

And here’s where it gets darker: once you engage with even one piece of “downfall content,” the algorithm learns. It feeds you more of the same. You liked one tweet about someone getting “exposed”? Now you’re in the loop. You watched a TikTok where a CEO was called out? Expect 10 more videos on similar topics within the hour.

This type of content is profitable because it fuels interaction. People don’t just watch — they comment, they argue, they tag friends. That means more time on the app, more ad impressions, and more data collected. Your emotional reaction is their revenue stream.

But this constant exposure has psychological consequences. In my own work with clients across the U.S., especially teens and young adults, I’ve noticed a sharp rise in what I call “emotional burnout by comparison.” They’re not just tired from scrolling — they’re emotionally overloaded by the endless cycle of highs and lows. It’s not just envy that’s exhausting them — it’s the rollercoaster of seeing people fall, feeling reassured, then immediately fearing the same fate.

For instance, one client from Denver described it like this: “Every time I see someone fail, I feel a weird mix of relief and dread. I don’t even know what I’m reacting to anymore — it just messes with my head.”

And the scariest part? Most platforms do not give you a way to filter this out. You can block accounts, mute hashtags, or hit “not interested” — but the content always finds a way back. That’s because schadenfreude-based content isn’t always obvious. It’s disguised as humor. Reaction videos. Commentary. Even news.

So the cycle continues: you scroll, you react, the algorithm responds, and you get more of what you just saw. The emotional cost is yours — the profit is theirs.

This is why managing your relationship with social media isn’t just about screen time. It’s about emotional boundaries. If you find yourself obsessing over other people’s mistakes, catastrophizing your future, or feeling anxious after every scroll, it’s not your fault — but it is your responsibility to notice and start breaking that loop.

And it starts with asking one simple question every time you scroll:

“Is this helping me feel safer, or is it making me more afraid?”

Schadenfreude-Induced Anxiety — How It Shows Up in Therapy Rooms

You wouldn’t expect it to show up in therapy, but it does. More often than most people realize. Clients walk in and talk about their stress, their panic, their fear of failure — and somewhere in that story, a sentence slips out like, “I saw this video last night where someone got fired... and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

They don’t say the word schadenfreude — most of them have never heard of it. But they feel it. And they feel the guilt and anxiety that come right after it, like a wave crashing over something that seemed safe only a minute ago.

In therapy rooms from San Diego to Chicago, this pattern is becoming more familiar:

• They see someone fail on social media.

• They feel a small sense of relief.

• Then they spiral with fear that it might happen to them next.

This isn’t a sign of cruelty — it’s a reaction to living in a culture that constantly rewards comparison.

In more competitive states like New York or Massachusetts, where people are taught to “keep up” from a young age, clients often talk about social media like it’s a scoreboard. Who’s winning. Who’s losing. Who’s catching up. And when someone loses publicly, it feels like the pressure is off — just for a moment. But the relief doesn’t last. Instead, it flips into high-functioning anxiety — the kind that doesn’t always look like panic, but feels like something’s always about to go wrong.

One of my clients, a 34-year-old software engineer in Austin, described it like this:

“It’s like I need to see other people fail just to breathe a little. But then I can’t sleep because I start thinking, ‘What if that’s me tomorrow?’”

This isn’t just a personal issue. It’s a cultural one. The U.S. has built an identity around competition and performance — from high school GPAs to workplace promotions. Social media simply magnifies that mindset. Every downfall you witness becomes a reminder of how fragile your own success is.

This is especially painful for people already struggling with insecurity or imposter syndrome. Seeing someone else fall can make them feel temporarily better — not because they want others to suffer, but because their own success feels unearned. When someone more confident, more polished, or more “together” publicly collapses, it validates their fear: “I knew I wasn’t the only one pretending.”

But that validation is laced with fear.

It’s not uncommon for clients to describe physical symptoms: tight chest, racing thoughts, cold hands, short breath. They don’t realize it’s from scrolling. But when we unpack it in sessions, the link becomes clear. They’re absorbing emotional weight from people they’ve never met, in situations they don’t control — and their body is reacting as if it’s happening to them.

What starts as passive consumption becomes emotional rehearsal. The more they witness others fail, the more mentally prepared they feel to fail too. But instead of building resilience, it builds tension.

The nervous system can’t tell the difference between a real threat and an imagined one repeated often enough.

Breaking the Cycle — How to Use Self-Awareness to Protect Your Mental Health

So how do we protect ourselves when the internet is wired to keep us watching?

The answer isn’t to delete all your accounts or go live in a forest. It starts with something simpler and more sustainable — conscious self-awareness. Not just awareness of what you see, but how it makes you feel.

Each time you scroll, pause and ask:

• Why am I stopping here?

• What am I feeling as I read this?

• Do I feel better or worse after watching this?

These are small questions, but they create big shifts in how your mind interacts with content. When you begin to notice your reactions — especially the ones rooted in comparison or fear — you start to reclaim control from the algorithm.

In therapy, we often guide clients to create a “scroll map” — a short journal or mental log of their emotional patterns during and after social media use. For example:

• After watching a clip of someone losing their job: anxious, nervous, stomach tight

• After seeing a wedding reel: sad, lonely, disconnected

• After a celebrity scandal: amused, then guilty, then ashamed

These patterns tell a deeper story — not just about what you consume, but about what you crave and fear in your own life. And recognizing these patterns isn’t about shame. It’s about understanding where your anxiety is hiding and gently bringing it into light.

Once that awareness is there, small steps make a big difference.

Mute, unfollow, and filter content that consistently triggers your fear or shame. Not because you’re avoiding reality — but because you’re choosing what kind of emotional energy you want to carry. Platforms like Instagram and TikTok have features that let you quiet content without hurting anyone’s feelings. Use them.

Schedule your scroll time. Instead of letting the algorithm lead you, give yourself fixed windows. A 15-minute check-in after lunch. A 10-minute break at night. By creating structure, you help your nervous system regulate. You turn consumption into choice.

Introduce intentional content. Replace some of the noise with creators or pages that calm you, inspire you, or teach you. Follow mental health educators. Listen to voices that validate growth over gossip. In states like Colorado or Vermont, where mental health awareness is growing, more therapists and creators are building online spaces rooted in compassion and learning. Seek them out.

Finally, and most importantly: be kind to yourself when you catch those moments of schadenfreude. Don’t punish the part of you that feels relief. Understand it. It’s trying to protect you. I just haven't learned a better way yet.

If your anxiety feels overwhelming or persistent, speaking to an online psychologist in India can be a helpful first step toward understanding your emotional patterns and building healthier coping strategies.

With time, practice, and intention, that protective instinct can evolve into empathy. And when that happens — when you begin to see others’ struggles and feel connection instead of comparison — the anxiety starts to loosen. Your heart feels lighter. And the scroll doesn’t feel so dark anymore.

Statistics & Trends — The Hidden Cost of Schadenfreude Culture in America

Behind every viral downfall or meme-worthy failure on social media, there’s a growing psychological toll — not just on the person at the center of it, but on the millions silently watching. And the data proves it.

In a recent 2024 study conducted by a national mental health research foundation, nearly 64% of Americans reported feeling increased anxiety after viewing negative content online, particularly videos involving someone’s loss, mistake, or downfall. Among Gen Z — the most active group on social platforms — this number jumps to 71%.

But that’s just the beginning.

In states like California, Texas, Florida, and New York, where media influence is high and digital engagement is constant, people are consuming more schadenfreude-triggering content than ever before. From public firings to cancel culture controversies, these narratives dominate trending feeds — and leave users feeling unsettled, even if they don’t realize why.

Let’s look at the emotional breakdown:

• 46% of users feel relieved when they see others struggle

• 41% feel guilty about that relief within minutes

• 58% later report feeling worse about themselves after extended exposure to similar content

(Source: 2024 U.S. Digital Emotion & Mental Health Survey)

The contradiction is important: the very content we’re drawn to is also eroding our emotional wellbeing.

It’s not just a feeling — it’s measurable. According to the CDC’s annual Behavioral Health Report, states with higher daily social media use show increased rates of reported anxiety, especially in urban hubs like Chicago, Los Angeles, Miami, and New York City. This includes symptoms such as racing thoughts, difficulty concentrating, and overactive worry cycles — all frequently triggered by passive exposure to others’ misfortunes online.

Another trend to watch is comparison-induced fatigue, a relatively new term being tracked by psychologists in the Midwest and South. It refers to the cognitive burnout that follows repeated emotional swings — like going from laughing at someone’s “fail” to feeling terrified about your own job security. Over time, this cycle depletes focus, motivation, and even compassion.

In therapy offices from Atlanta to Portland, therapists are now screening for “emotional overexposure” — where clients show signs of trauma-like symptoms, not from direct personal experiences, but from daily immersion in digital narratives of distress.

So while schadenfreude may start as a smirk or a shrug, the real cost is internal. And for many Americans, that cost is showing up in anxiety diagnoses, stress-related health issues, and an increasing need for mental detox — not from their own chaos, but from everyone else’s.

From Judgment to Empathy — A New Way to Scroll

There’s a turning point many people reach, usually in silence. One moment you’re laughing at someone’s viral failure — the next, you feel something crack inside. Not guilt, exactly. Something softer. Something closer to sorrow. You start to realize that the same thing you just laughed at… has happened to you too, or could.

That’s the moment empathy begins to rise.

Empathy is often framed as the opposite of schadenfreude. But in truth, it’s not about being perfect or always kind — it’s about choosing to see someone as human instead of content.

When you watch someone’s misstep online — whether it’s a failed pitch, an embarrassing comment, or a public breakdown — ask yourself:

• What kind of day must they be having?

• What would I want others to feel if that were me?

• Am I watching this to connect, or to compare?

These aren’t easy questions. But they shift the lens.

This is something I’ve seen increasingly among younger creators and mental health advocates across the U.S. In cities like Philadelphia, Austin, and Denver, creators are pushing back against “mockery culture.” They’re telling personal stories with rawness instead of polish. They’re replacing “gotcha” moments with support. And slowly, empathy is trending.

There’s also something called empathy fatigue — a very real burnout that happens when people feel emotionally stretched too thin. But here’s the thing: empathy, when practiced in healthy doses, doesn’t drain you — it stabilizes you. It helps regulate the extreme emotions that come with constant comparison.

Instead of the rollercoaster of "better-than, worse-than," empathy offers this: We’re all figuring it out. That soft truth lowers your shoulders, slows your breath, and re-centers your nervous system.

Empathy also allows for nuance. It makes space for the truth that someone can mess up and still be worth understanding. That their downfall doesn’t make them less, and it doesn’t make you more.

One way to practice this is to pause before sharing or reacting to a failure-based post. Ask:

“Is this kind? Is this necessary? Is this mine to comment on?”

It doesn’t mean you stop scrolling. It means you scroll with intention.

When you begin to shift from judgment to curiosity, and from comparison to compassion, your entire digital experience changes. You begin to feel less like you’re performing — and more like you’re living.

And perhaps most importantly, when you see others with more empathy, you slowly begin to see yourself that way too.

Is Schadenfreude Always Bad? When It Helps Us Feel Seen

Here’s something we don’t talk about enough — schadenfreude isn’t always rooted in cruelty. Sometimes, it surfaces from exhaustion. Or helplessness. Or just wanting to know that we’re not the only ones who don’t have it all together.

In some cases, witnessing someone else’s failure can feel strangely validating — not because you want them to fail, but because you’ve failed too. And when their mistake goes public, it creates a small window of relief: “So it’s not just me.”

This is especially true in therapy groups, peer-led discussions, and online support forums. Across the U.S., in communities from Detroit to Sacramento, people are telling stories of personal loss, rejection, or burnout — and others are finding comfort in the shared struggle.

Take for example a group of young professionals in Boston navigating layoff anxiety. When one person spoke openly about losing their job, others in the group — who had silently been fearing the same — felt an instant shift. Their private shame turned into public empathy. And just like that, schadenfreude evolved into solidarity.

It’s not the failure that helps people feel seen. It’s the honesty about that failure.

In online spaces, we sometimes call this coping through humor — using self-deprecating jokes or memes to soften the pain. It’s common on platforms like Reddit or TikTok, where users will post, “Just got dumped by text. Anyone else?” followed by hundreds of comments that say “Same.” “You’re not alone.” “Been there.”

In these moments, schadenfreude isn’t about superiority — it’s about community.

That said, it’s still important to check your emotional response. If you’re only feeling good when others fall, and never when others rise, that’s not validation — it’s unresolved resentment. But if someone’s story reminds you that you're human, and helps you feel less alone in your own struggles? That’s not harmful — that’s healing.

Sometimes, we don’t need people to be perfect. We need them to be honest. And in that honesty, even a flawed moment can become a connection point.

What Your Reaction Says About You — Reflective Prompts

You don’t need to judge yourself for feeling schadenfreude. But you can learn from it. In fact, your emotional reaction to other people’s failures can reveal more about your own fears, needs, and insecurities than you might expect.

Here are a few reflection questions I often give to clients — especially those who feel emotionally overwhelmed by social media, or stuck in cycles of comparison:

• What did I feel first when I saw this post — joy, guilt, fear, relief?

• Is this person someone I usually compare myself to?

• What part of me felt safer after watching them fail?

• Would I want someone to react this way if it were me?

• Is this reaction telling me I need rest, validation, or reassurance in my own life?

These aren’t questions to judge yourself with. They’re meant to open a door between your reactions and your unmet emotional needs.

For example, if you feel relieved when someone in your industry gets negative feedback, maybe you’re craving reassurance about your own work. If you feel anxious after watching someone get called out for a mistake, maybe you’ve been hiding your own fear of being seen as imperfect.

These reactions are not random. They’re patterns. And once you begin to notice those patterns, you gain power over them.

That’s how the cycle breaks — not with blame, but with curiosity.

When you use your reaction as a mirror instead of a weapon, you don’t just consume content — you grow from it. And over time, your scroll becomes less about anxiety, and more about understanding.

The point isn’t to avoid uncomfortable feelings. It’s to notice them, learn from them, and eventually — soften them.

Because the more you understand what triggers your anxiety, the more you can create a life — and an online experience — that actually supports your peace.

FAQs

1. Why do I feel good when someone fails on social media?

It’s a psychological response called schadenfreude, and it’s more common than you think. Your brain uses comparison to make sense of your place in the world. When someone else stumbles, it can trigger a short-term sense of safety — especially if you’ve been silently fearing failure yourself. But this feeling can quickly turn into guilt or anxiety if it’s repeated too often.

2. Is it normal to feel relief when others mess up online?

Yes — it’s a normal but complex human reaction. Feeling relief when others fail doesn’t necessarily mean you’re being unkind. It often comes from internal fears about not being good enough or constant comparison. The relief usually comes from a sense that you’re not alone in your struggles, not from wanting others to suffer.

3. Can schadenfreude lead to anxiety or guilt?

Absolutely. At first, schadenfreude might feel like a confidence boost. But over time, especially with repeated exposure through social media, it can create emotional tension. Many people begin to worry they’ll be next, feel guilty about their reactions, or start questioning their own worth — all of which fuel anxiety.

4. How does social media increase anxiety in the U.S.?

Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter/X are built on algorithms that promote high-engagement content — often drama, controversy, or public failure. In a 2024 U.S. survey, 64% of adults said they feel more anxious after viewing negative or comparison-driven content. The more you consume others’ struggles, the more you unconsciously fear your own.

5. What can I do to stop feeling anxious after scrolling?

Start by building awareness. Track what kind of content affects your mood the most. Mute, unfollow, or limit content that triggers anxiety. Use “scroll audits” — short daily reflections — to notice emotional patterns. And most importantly, remind yourself that what you consume isn’t just visual, it’s emotional.

6. Is it bad to laugh at failed videos or callouts?

Not necessarily. Humor can be a healthy release. But it depends on your intention and your reaction afterward. If it consistently leaves you feeling guilty, disconnected, or fearful, it may be time to reframe how you engage with that type of content. The goal is to laugh with others, not at their pain.

7. Can empathy replace schadenfreude in online spaces?

Yes, and it already is — slowly. Many users, especially younger creators in the U.S., are shifting toward honest storytelling and vulnerability over mockery. When you choose to approach others' struggles with curiosity instead of judgment, you don’t lose your edge — you gain emotional peace.

Conclusion — Your Reaction Isn’t Wrong, But It Is a Message

You’re not broken for feeling a flash of relief when someone else fails online. That moment of “thank God it’s not me” doesn’t make you bad — it makes you human. But if that relief always turns into guilt, fear, or tightness in your chest, it might be time to listen to what your reaction is trying to tell you.

In a world where social media constantly feeds us both the wins and the wrecks of other people’s lives, it's easy to feel like you’re never enough — or worse, that disaster is always just one scroll away. That’s why this isn’t just about changing what you look at. It’s about changing how you look.

Next time you feel that strange mix of judgment and fear, pause. Ask yourself:

“Is this reaction helping me grow, or making me shrink?”

“Is this story pulling me toward empathy, or pushing me toward anxiety?”

And most importantly — “What do I need right now?”

Because when you begin to answer that question with intention and care, the scroll no longer owns your emotions. You do.

About the Author

Dr. Roshni Koli is a board-certified psychiatrist specializing in both adult and child/adolescent mental health. She currently serves as Chief Medical Officer at the Meadows Mental Health Policy Institute in Austin, Texas, bringing over 15 years of clinical and leadership experience focused on bridging care, systems, and mental health policy.

Previously, Dr. Koli served as the inaugural Medical Director of Pediatric Mental Health at Dell Children’s Medical Center, where she developed Texas’s first integrated continuum of pediatric mental health care. Her work established inpatient units, outpatient services, and behavioral health integration within primary care clinics.

She completed her MD at St. George’s University, followed by a residency in general psychiatry at the University of Illinois at Chicago, and a fellowship in child and adolescent psychiatry at Northwestern University’s Lurie Children’s Hospital.

Throughout her career, Dr. Koli has championed equitable, trauma-informed care models across states like Texas and Hawai’i. She continues to advocate for stigma-free access to care, especially for young people and underserved communities. Her voice aligns deeply with Click2Pro’s mission to bring compassionate, evidence-based mental health education to the forefront of public conversation.