Stigma around mental health is still very real everywhere, but it shows up in particular ways in Latinx communities.
And to be fair, we have come a long way.
Therapy is more normalized now and people talk about it more openly. It’s still whispered sometimes, framed as something you don’t tell everyone, but it’s no longer shocking to say, “I’m in therapy.”
Medication, though? That’s a different story.
When it comes to antidepressants and other psychiatric medications, we still have a long way to go.
My Position, Clearly
As a therapist, I’m neutral about medication.
You want to take meds? Go for it.
You want to raw dog life without them? Also fine.
What matters to me is that people are making informed decisions, not decisions rooted in unexamined stigma that quietly makes them suffer more than they need to.
Lately, I’ve noticed something in my work. Some people who are firmly anti-medication can’t actually explain why… or when they do, their reasons are deeply shaped by beliefs they’ve never questioned.
“I Don’t Want to Depend on Medication”
This is one I hear a lot. And I get it. No one wants to depend on medication.
But here’s the thing:
Neither does a diabetic. And yet, here we are.
No one would say, “I’m choosing not to take insulin because I don’t want to rely on it.”
No one would deny pain medication after breaking a bone and say, “I should be able to get through this on my own.”
Mental health conditions aren’t a moral failure. They’re not a lack of willpower. And they’re not proof that you’re weak.
Sometimes depression or anxiety is like a broken bone, you might need medication temporarily to get through the healing phase.
Other times, it’s more like diabetes or hypothyroidism, you might need ongoing support because of genetics, biology, or long-standing patterns in your nervous system.
Either way, needing medication doesn’t say anything negative about who you are.
Trauma, the Nervous System, and Why Therapy Alone Isn’t Always Enough
When trauma is involved, this conversation becomes even more important.
Trauma impacts the nervous system. For some people, the system is so dysregulated that it’s incredibly difficult, sometimes impossible, to process trauma effectively without first stabilizing things physiologically.
This isn’t opinion. It’s supported by research.
We know that a combination of medication and therapy is often the most effective treatment, especially for moderate to severe depression, anxiety, and trauma-related symptoms.
Medication doesn’t replace therapy, but sometimes it creates enough internal safety for therapy to actually work.
“I Don’t Like the Side Effects”
Valid concern.
Do you know how many psychiatric medications exist?
I don’t either, but it’s a shit ton.
SSRIs, SNRIs, atypical antidepressants, mood stabilizers, adjunct meds, different dosages, different combinations…there are countless options.
Is finding the right one annoying? Yes.
Is it frustrating? Absolutely.
Can it take time? Unfortunately, yes.
But here’s the question I often gently ask:
What if it’s worth it?
We accept trial-and-error in so many other areas of health. Mental health shouldn’t be the exception.
“I Know What I Need to Do…I Just Have to Do It”
This one comes up constantly.
“I just need to work out.”
“I just need to take breaks.”
“I just need to be more disciplined.”
Okay, but if you’ve been saying you’ll start exercising for your mental health for five years, and it hasn’t happened once… maybe that’s not a realistic or sustainable expectation for you right now.
And sustainability matters.
The most effective treatment isn’t the one that looks best on paper, it’s the one you can actually maintain. Sometimes medication isn’t a shortcut, it’s the support that makes other changes possible.
What I’m Not Saying
I am not saying everyone should be on antidepressants.
I am not saying medication is the only answer.
I am not saying therapy alone is useless.
I am saying this:
Make sure you’re not suffering for the wrong reasons.
Make sure your decisions aren’t being driven by stigma you inherited but never chose.
Make sure you’re giving yourself access to all the tools available, not just the ones that feel morally acceptable.
A Final Thought
Mental health care is not a test of strength.
There is no prize for doing it the hardest way possible.
Whether you choose medication, therapy, both, or neither, the question isn’t “What should I do?”
It’s:
“What support allows me to actually live my life?”