Salud Mental But Explain It With Novelas - Episode 1: Depression
- Geraldina
- Jan 25
- 6 min read
Explaining mental health using telenovelas we grew up with.
Okay, first of all, let me point out that I am not a professional in mental health at all, and you should still consult someone who actually knows what they’re talking about. Because what you’re about to read is literally just the words of someone whose idea of therapy is watching big men make each other bleed and calling it a game. (Hmm… maybe my mom was right—I am a sadist.) Annnd once again, I’ve revealed too much about myself… nah. Y’all love chisme, right?
Now that the disclaimer is out of the way: welcome to what I decided to make a series. Because the whole reason I created Meztli was to bring awareness to mental health in the Latin/Hispanic community. But not just awareness. Education.
Because sometimes our parents and abuelos say things about mental health that hurt. And we stay quiet out of respect. But honestly? I think it’s usually because they just… don’t know better. They were taught that way. It’s not their fault they don’t know what dissociation or grooming is. Those words didn’t exist—and still don’t exist—for them.
But you know what has always existed?
Drama.
Books.
Movies.
TV shows.
Novelas.
That is something we all love and understand. So what better way to explain the unknown than with something familiar we already love?
Sometimes it’ll be novelas. Other times it might be movies. But it’ll always be something that’s part of our culture—something we already understand—so we can see how mental health is already and has always been there.
We just chose to look past it.
Cue the Intro Song (I need a soundtrack to survive!)
“Acompáñame a ver esta triste historia…”
Sorry. I’ve always wanted to do that.
And how could I not quote the legendary Silvia Pinal? She literally had an entire show with episodes dedicated to mental health. Did we realize it at the time? Us kids? Nah. Our parents? Maybe? Probably not. And don’t quote me because I’m no journalist and my memory is shit—but I’m pretty sure the queen herself also dealt with depression.
Which brings us to the question everyone asks but no one ever actually explains:
So… what even is depression?
Pull up a chair. Tía Meztli is here to talk.
And when I say “talk about it,” I mean I’m going to ramble like your drunk tía at 2 a.m., okay? Because depression feels like living inside a telenovela—but one where the dramatic music only exists in your brain, the camera is always way too close, and nobody (I repeat: nobody) knows what the hell is happening inside your head except maybe… you.
Nah—let’s be real. Sometimes not even you know.
I know I didn’t. And honestly? I still don’t half the time.
But here’s what you do know.
The tropes.
Because depression doesn’t arrive politely. She doesn’t knock. She doesn’t introduce herself. She kicks down the door like a villain and rearranges your entire nervous system.
Explícalo en español, sis. I’m here for the novela.
Still confused? Okay—remember the final episode of María la del Barrio, when Soraya goes absolutely bat shit crazy? The nurse outfit. The wigs. The buildings on fire. The maniacal laugh.
That’s your nervous system.
Except instead of doing all that for villainous reasons, it’s doing it because it thinks you’re in danger.
Because it’s trying to keep you alive. Your nervous system is trying to keep you alive.
Now imagine telling someone who’s actively running from a murderous Soraya, “échale ganas” or “just stop being depressed.”
See why those well-intentioned words can land so…are you fucking kidding me?
Depression, According to Novela Logic
Depression is:
The main character staring out a window for way too long while everyone else is yelling in the background. (Spoiler alert: in real life, that’s dissociation.)
The dramatic pause where nothing is happening externally, but internally everything is on fire. (My internal monologue is either cussing you out or crying.)
The episode where everyone keeps saying “échale ganas” while the character can barely get out of bed. (I swear if you say that one more fucking time, I may have to respond with a cachetada. I’ve been watching Power Slap. I’ve been waiting for this moment.)
In novelas, sadness is obvious.
Someone cries.
Someone screams.
Someone throws a glass.
In real life?
Depression is quieter.
It’s:
Cancelling plans—not because you don’t care. Sometimes not even because you want to cancel. But because everything feels heavy. (And then you feel guilty for cancelling.)
Being tired even after sleeping 14 hours straight… with two naps.
Laughing at jokes but feeling completely disconnected.
Loving people deeply while feeling numb at the same time.
It’s not always crying on the floor.
Sometimes it’s just… existing on autopilot.
And sometimes—like me—you don’t even realize you’re doing it. You get so used to being on autopilot that you lose weeks.
Or years.
“Pero No Parece Triste”
One of the biggest lies about depression—especially in our community—is that it has to look sad to be real.
If you’re working.
If you’re laughing.
If you’re showing up.
Then clearly you’re fine, right?
Wrong.
There are many different types of depression. Just like there are different types of salsa—and we do not have time to go through all of them in one post. So just because someone isn’t staying home or crying all the time doesn’t mean they aren’t struggling.
Never assume.
In novelas, the saddest characters are often the ones holding everything together.
The responsible daughter.
The strong son.
The one who never complains.
The one everyone relies on.
Sound familiar?
Depression doesn’t always look like falling apart. Sometimes it looks like functioning on fumes. Smiling through exhaustion. Being praised for being “so strong” while quietly drowning.
And because you’re still doing the things—going to work, answering texts, helping everyone else—no one thinks to ask if you’re okay.
Including you.
A Small Thing That Helps (When Asking Feels Hard)
It’s always nice to have someone—a best friend, a sibling, a partner—who checks in every once in a while. Something simple.
During my own journey, I saw a doctor online give this advice. I asked my best friend to practice it with me, and now I’m passing it on to you.
Create a code between each other.
A word. A phrase. A joke. Something only you two know. Something that means, “I’m not okay.”
That way, when it’s said, the other person knows it’s time to show up.
Because sometimes it’s hard to ask for help. And sometimes we’re so used to answering “I’m fine” or “todo bien” that we don’t even realize we’re lying—to others and to ourselves.
“En Mis Tiempos No Nos Daba Depresión”
Sure, Jan.
Uh-huh.
I know we've all heard this.
From parents.
From grandparents.
From someone the exact moment depression is brought up.
I know I have.
And maybe it’s my trauma response—or maybe it’s the way “calladita te ves más bonita” was drilled into me. Maybe it’s the respect-your-elders thing.
So instead of pushing back, we stay quiet.
But here’s the thing.
If depression didn’t exist back then…
why is getting drunk such a big part of our culture?
Because coping mechanisms did exist.
We just didn’t call them that.
And nobody was ready—or allowed—to talk about them.
Y’all are probably going to hate me for this, and I’ve been part of it too. Because it is part of our culture. Family get-togethers. Music loud. Someone yelling “shots! shots!” Everyone laughing.
And yes—it is fun. I’m not pretending it isn’t. I love those moments too.
But sometimes those shots aren’t just for fun.
Sometimes they’re coping mechanisms dressed up as celebration.
Sometimes they’re a way to numb something our community still insists doesn’t exist.
Getting drunk.
Staying busy.
Joking everything away.
Pretending nothing hurts.
Pushing through because you have to.
Those things kept people alive.
They helped our parents and abuelos survive.
But surviving isn’t the same as being okay.
Depression doesn’t mean you’re weak.
It doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful.
It doesn’t mean you’re broken.
It means your body and mind are asking for something they didn’t get before:
rest, care, safety, support.
And that’s not a failure.
That’s awareness.
Final Scene
If you saw yourself anywhere in this—
in the window staring,
in the exhaustion,
in the autopilot,
in the silence—
you’re not alone.
You’re not dramatic.
You’re not “too much.”
You’re not failing at life.
You’re human.
And you deserve more than just getting through the day.
So if you can, talk to someone.
A friend.
A therapist.
A doctor.
Someone who will listen without trying to fix you in one sentence.
And if today all you can do is read this and think,
“oh… that’s me,”
that’s okay too.
That counts.
This was Episode 1: Depression.
More episodes coming.
Because mental health has always been part of our stories.
We just didn’t have the words for it yet. And don’t worry—you’re safe here. And hopefully, together, we can teach our community that these new words aren’t scary and are safe to use too. 🌙🖤
And maybe—just maybe—understanding it in our own language is where healing starts.
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