Some of my most acute and painful memories are of trying to describe what was going on in my brain to those around me. Forming the words and pushing each individual one out on my tongue can feel like punching through a brick wall, no matter who’s on the other side: my parents, friends, boyfriend, doctor, even therapist.

In season three of ‘Heartstopper,’ main characters Nick (Kit Connor) and Charlie (Joe Locke) appear on the surface to be as serendipitous as ever. But in truth, their relationship has hit a standstill, and it’s because Charlie can’t bear to explain to Nick how poor his mental health has become. Nick can see that Charlie is reserved, anxious and not eating, but he too has no real method of handling it. And thus Nick and Charlie’s high school love becomes much bigger than them.

I, too, spent much of my teen years trying to understand what was happening in my brain and putting words to it. Whether it was attending class, eating, waking up in the morning, or completing my homework, many things felt (and sometimes continue to feel) impossible. It’s not any fault of my own, and I’ve always been aware of that. But when it feels as though no one is on the same page, it’s unbearably isolating.

‘Heartstopper’ is based on a well-known comic by Alice Oseman, which like many other viewers of the Netflix show, I have not read. But those who have read it were well-prepared for Charlie’s eating disorder, a plot point that becomes pivotal later on in the series.

The show hinted at this last season, when a trip to Paris took the high school students away from their English town and Nick noticed Charlie wasn’t eating. But it came to a head when Nick finally broached the subject with Charlie, leading to a multi-episode plotline where Charlie attends an in-patient program, is diagnosed with anorexia and OCD, sees a therapist and attempts to navigate life back at home with the weight of everyone’s worry on him.

For Charlie, hearing that Nick was concerned about him was the first step to realizing something was truly wrong. He poignantly searches online for clues about what’s going on, ending up on WebMD-like pages about eating disorders. He writes down his thoughts so he can read them out loud to his parents without faltering. He struggles to come to terms with the strategies his therapist gives him.

But what truly reached me about this storyline was how much love surrounds Charlie. His parents, with whom he has a troubled relationship, diligently follow his prescribed meal plan. His sister becomes someone far more familiar with discussing her feelings, understanding that that’s what Charlie needs to hear. Nick struggles with it in his own right, but follows Charlie throughout it all. And in the ultimate tear-jerking moment of the season, Charlie’s friends make a camcorder video for him to watch while in treatment.

‘Heartstopper’ puts love into the limelight. This season displayed the true solidarity and unconditional support of friends and family better than either season before it, in part because it did not shy away from exploring how challenging mental illness can be on not only who it affects, but everyone who loves them. Not because it makes the mentally ill unlovable, but rather the opposite: because everyone around them is hoping to make them feel as loved as possible.

This is the message we should truly be spreading about mental health. Struggling to tell those around you when you’ve realized you’re drowning can be the ultimate barrier to accessing treatment and feeling alive again. But seeing how much love comes after that barrier can change someone’s life.

Our conversations about teenage mental health are only beginning to flourish, but ‘Heartstopper’ season three not only set the example of how to discuss it, but also undoubtedly made countless people feel unprecedentedly seen. And that’s something truly invaluable.