For this journal entry I wanted to talk about the aspects that have prevented myself and some of my family members from admitting and also accepting the help that we need in regards to mental health. I want to give an insight into what we learned in the process in hopes that it helps someone in a similar situation.
I grew up in a very conservative Hispanic family. Both my parents grew up in Mexico and decided to move to the states when my oldest brother was 4 years old. I was born here in the United States and so were my two other brothers. Although we all grew up here in the U.S. we very much maintained our connection to Mexico and to the culture of our family.
There are many beautiful things that come with being Latina. Mexico is filled with breathtaking sights, unique music and traditions but with that also comes certain expectations and upbringing that one cannot always escape.
I belong to a family that struggles with their mental health. Depression, Anxiety, and Bipolar Disorder are prominent struggles that we all face. Getting the treatment for these issues hasn’t always been simple for any of us.
For the longest time I had no idea why I struggled so much with the simplest things and why I oftentimes felt so disconnected from the world. Because of the way I grew up, issues were handled primarily at home and struggles where seen as chances for one to prove how strong they were to overcome them. Being defeated by things like Depression and Anxiety wasn’t an option and so I internalized it all and pretended it was all okay.
Because the truth was even if I had admitted to struggling, I was never really sure of what I was dealing with. It wasn’t until I decided to open myself up to a close friend of mine in High school that I began to understand that what I was struggling with had a reason and possibly a solution.
It was eye opening for me.
Once I identified my problem I still felt hesitant to ask for professional help because I was so scared to share my experiences with strangers. I felt that my safety and that of my family was going to be jeopardized. I felt that in the eyes of those that I loved, I would become weak .
After one too many doctor visits due to my lack of eating and panic induced anxiety attacks, my doctor decided to diagnose me with Major depressive disorder as well as an eating disorder. I received treatment for several years and then I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder.
The point of me talking about my experiences is to say that the journey has not always been easy. There have been moments where I lost hope in the process and gone off the rails. But eventually the right medication, the right routine, and the right professionals were able to get me to the place that I am at today. Still struggling but finally moving in the right direction.
I want to believe that people can learn new habits and adopt new beliefs. I want people to know that even when things seem hopeless, there’s always someone out there that wants to help. Realizing this gave my life some direction and wanting to help others come to the same conclusion became my purpose.
Yes I grew up in a community that valued personal strength and togetherness but I also learned that people can be educated and that people can learn to see people’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities as powerful.
Because anyone who can survive a battle within the brain is truly valuable and a warrior.
Mental health awareness in any community is something that must be taught. But given the research that i’ve done on the matter, I believe the Latinx community could really benefit from stories like mine and those of so many others.
Life in the Public 