Contributor: Therapy isn’t the only help. Peers offer a different kind of support.

Californians seem to be talking about mental health more openly than ever. But as the conversation has grown, the support available has not kept pace with the need. Therapy remains inaccessible for millions of people – because they often can’t afford it, can’t find it, or can’t overcome the cultural and logistical barriers that get in the way.

Last year, the Los Angeles Times published a series on mental health issues in Los Angeles’ Thai community. One line stayed with me: “They enter with their silence. » Silence — not because people aren’t struggling, but because stigma, cost and limited access make help seem out of reach. This story is not specific to a single community. This reflects a truth across Los Angeles: Many Angelenos suffering from anxiety, loneliness, grief or stress simply have no place to go.

I know this personally. A few years ago, after my father’s sudden death, I sought emotional support that felt human, grounding, and accessible. What I found instead were long waiting lists and therapy costs ranging from $150 to $350 per session — a financial barrier even for those with resources. I didn’t need a diagnosis. I needed connection. But the system considered connection a luxury.

California’s mental health crisis is often explained in part by a shortage of clinicians, and that shortage is real. But an equally pressing problem is that our public conversation neglects the spaces people already turn to for support when therapy is unavailable: community and peers.

Peer support is not therapy. It’s not supposed to be. But for countless Californians facing chronic stress, burnout or isolation, peer support may be the only form of emotional care they can reasonably access.

Intentional peer support spaces can attract people facing all kinds of experiences: caregivers overwhelmed by their responsibilities, LGBTQ+ youth facing hostility and identity stress, and adults of all ages quietly struggling with loneliness. These spaces welcome people who are not in crisis but who are not well. They are not candidates for emergency services, but they experience challenges that traditional therapies cannot absorb, especially when demand exceeds supply.

Some mental health professionals worry that peer support may delay people seeking clinical care when they actually need it. This is a legitimate concern – and one worth taking seriously. But more often than not, peer support comes upstream, before a person reaches crisis. It doesn’t turn people away from therapy; it reaches people that therapy could never have reached in the first place. Daily emotional tension, grief, and uncertainty do not always require clinical intervention. Sometimes they just need a sympathetic ear.

Peer-led groups allow people to express themselves before they reach a crisis. I’ve seen people come in feeling tense, overwhelmed, or closed off and leave feeling grounded, lighter, and more connected. This effect is not accidental. It’s the result of giving people what many are missing in their lives: presence, community, consistent emotional practice.

California doesn’t need a single solution to its mental health crisis. It takes a lot. Yes, we need more licensed therapists, psychiatrists and community clinics. But we also need low-cost, scalable, and culturally flexible support systems, especially for communities underserved by conventional care.

Peer support programs are particularly suited to this situation. They reduce pressure on the clinical system, help people develop emotional resilience earlier, and improve access for those who face stigma, financial barriers, or cultural expectations that discourage “professional help.”

Los Angeles is uniquely positioned to lead this change. Our city is a city that creates movements, from activism to culture to wellness. Community mental health models have a place in recreation centers, college campuses, libraries, LGBTQ+ spaces, and neighborhoods where people never visit a therapist’s office.

Therapy cannot, and was never designed to, carry the full weight of California’s emotional well-being. Peer support is not the only solution either. But it’s part of the answer, and it’s support we can give people right now – without cost, without waiting lists, without stigma.

These people who come with their silence need a place to break it.

Bo Lopker is the founder of Totem, a Los Angeles nonprofit that creates free, peer-led emotional wellness spaces online and in person.