We Are the Generation of Latinas Who Decided Survival Wasn’t Enough

Only a few years ago, speaking about mental health felt like crossing a forbidden line. Now, it is everywhere, tossed around in casual conversation as if it were a new social accessory. Words like therapy, narcissism, anxiety, bipolar, and depression have become part of daily language, yet the essence of caring for one’s mind and heart has started to fade in the noise. I say this as someone who walked into therapy long before it was something to post about. I have been in and out of it since I was a teenager, and after years of trial and reflection, I think it is time we, as a society, especially as Latinas, learn how to navigate mental health with honesty and purpose.

Trust me when I say that I don’t feel this is something to boast about. Before learning what emotional regulation meant, everything felt chaotic. The mind, body, and spirit can fall into a state of mental shock, and the most human thing one can do is grant oneself grace, the kind that allows for change. Yet, through my experiences, I learned how to sit with my emotions as if searching for the right sazón for a high-protein meal. The balance matters. You can taste it, understand it, and know when to stop.

When Healing Meets Culture

Not too long ago, I trapped myself in a situation I could have walked away from. Many Latinas will understand what I mean when I say the expectations around relationships can feel suffocating. There is an invisible deadline hanging over us, one that dictates when we should marry, when we should start a family, when we should have it all figured out. I had already checked those boxes once, met who I thought was my forever person, and then watched it all collapse in an instant. The universe had other plans, but when you are a Latina starting over, the pressure intensifies. So, I did what too many of us do. I settled.

I told myself it was fine because it looked fine to others. I played into the script written by generations before me, one that values endurance over peace. And somewhere in the process, I lost myself. I let go of the woman who refused to conform, the woman who always spoke her mind. My mental health began to crack under the weight of silence, gender roles, and the painful echo of watching someone drown in alcohol and the “party life”, something both my grandmothers endured. I had promised myself I would never repeat that story, yet there I was, reliving it.

The Weight of Generational Patterns

Did you know that curses do not appear as curses? I learned the hard way. They sneak in disguised as routine, as compromise, as love. You tell yourself it will pass, that time will fix it, but time is not temporary. It moves through you and leaves traces of what you endure. My anxiety disorder intensified, my depression grew heavier, and I convinced myself I was fine because that is what women are taught to do. I silenced my own pain to protect someone else’s chaos. I was ready to sacrifice peace for tradition, even if it meant reliving my family’s history.

Amigas, there is a happy ending to this, though. That relationship ended months ago. The quiet that followed was startling. My anxiety eased, my depression softened, and I began to recognize myself again. It made me wonder how many of us have stayed in similar situations simply to satisfy a cultural checklist that no one should ever be tasked to complete.

Choosing Healing Over Survival

As Latinas, we carry too many expectations on our shoulders. I pursued the career, the education, the version of success that looked good on paper. I lived for approval until I realized that approval was not fulfillment. Now, I am letting things unfold without rushing them. I am learning that keeping my mental health intact requires boundaries and radical honesty.

I ground myself daily. I decline invitations that unsettle me. I speak openly about what triggers me instead of pretending to be strong. I stopped voicing my needs once, and it nearly erased me. Now, I am rebuilding.

By walking away, I broke a cycle that had been waiting for me to repeat it. Watching someone fall into addiction is one of the most painful experiences anyone can have, but I learned that it is not my role to save or reform another person. Latinas are not responsible for raising partners or healing them. That burden is not ours to carry.

Healing has shown me that I am my most important project. (You are yours too). The world sees what we build within ourselves first, and that is where the real work begins: quietly, intentionally, and entirely for us.