What One Day at a Time got right about depression
[Note: I first published this article on my personal blog (which is no longer available) before season 3 of the show had aired. I’ve updated some of the language and references, but have yet to do a deep-dive into the last two seasons of this glorious show.]
I started watching One Day at a Time because it made me laugh; I kept watching because it made me cry. If your story can do both of those things it is probably already my favourite (the exception is The Handmaid’s Tale which does not make me laugh but makes me feel about a thousand different emotions nonetheless). One Day at a Time did both so effortlessly I rarely noticed, even though I knew that there would be a moment in every episode that felt like a punch in the gut.
During its four-season run, the show tackled many important topics — from racism and coming out to immigration and the many ways America fails its veterans. It also tackled depression in a brilliantly understated way; it portrayed depression as something that can be lived with as part of a normal life — which is a reality for many people, including me. Depression narratives are often either about suffering or complete recovery, but there is a vast middle ground where people are managing their illness and facing the reality that they may have to live with it for the rest of their lives.
One Day at a Time’s narrative is told through the main character, Penelope Alvarez — a recently-divorced mother, nurse, and badass soldier who served in Afghanistan and is learning to live with an injured shoulder, Post Traumatic Stress (PTS), and depression.
In the very first episode, Penelope reluctantly begins taking antidepressants, despite her mother, Lydia’s, reservations. Her decision is portrayed as healthy throughout the episode and, though Lydia is staunchly anti-medication, Penelope finds support in her friends Schneider and Doctor Berkowitz. As the first season progresses, medication brings some stability to Penelope’s life, if only in helping her manage her emotions and anxiety. She also finds support and understanding in a therapy group for female army veterans (many of whom are also women of colour) and those sessions are honestly a joy to watch.
Though Penelope’s depression and anxiety are rooted in her experiences in Afghanistan, the show’s depiction of them was deeply relatable. This was never a paint-by-numbers story where the writers read a couple of Wikipedia articles and gave a character a random assortment of symptoms (looking at you, Jodi Picoult and Ryan Murphy). It’s obvious that the writers and producers at the very least consulted with people who had experienced depression (if not experienced it themselves).
There is a very understated yet important moment in season two where Penelope finds out her mother has been keeping a gun in her home for years. It was a timely discussion at the time and remains so today, given current events in America. But Penelope’s argument is one I wasn’t expecting.
Penelope says, “No matter where you hide [a gun], kids find it… and accidents happen. And things that aren’t accidents. We have teenagers in this house. We have a gay teenager in this house. We have a veteran with PTS. This is the last house that should have a gun.”
In an episode that is not strictly about suicide, it is special to see such an important conversation added. It is especially interesting to note that Elena (the “gay teenager”) had never indicated a history of suicidal thinking — although there had been a brief mention of weight loss when she confronted her dad about his homophobia in season 2, and the show went on to explore her struggles with anxiety in season 3). The fact that Penelope brings up having a gay teenager in the house shows that she (and the show) had thought about and understood the high rates of mental illness and suicide that queer communities face. She is not saying Elena is suicidal; rather, she is saying that it is a very real possibility that more people need to be thinking about.
Later in season 2, there’s an episode specifically about depression. In it, Penelope stops going to therapy and taking her medication because she thinks she doesn’t need them anymore now that she is feeling happier. As a result she experiences withdrawal effects that anyone who has abruptly stopped taking particular medications can empathise with. I’ve been there, even with help from my doctor; it took me months to wean myself off Venlafaxine, and it made me very ill.
Justina Machado plays Penelope’s downward spiral expertly, honestly, and sensitively. Penelope runs home from a school event because she has too much nervous energy. She lashes out at Schneider when he expresses concern over her wellbeing. She calls in sick to work because she can’t get out of bed. She stands up her partner on the night she’s meant to meet his parents. She is ashamed and disgusted at herself for buying a new dress for the event. She records herself thinking out loud in the middle of the night and, when she listens back to it, realises how not okay she is. And it scares her. Finally, Penelope comes to terms with the fact that she will probably need to be on medication for the rest of her life, and that that is okay.
You can’t get this episode from a Wikipedia article. This is a lived experience, and I am so grateful that the show chose to tell this story. It is such an important one.
To be able to tell stories like this with humour — and not have it detract from the real emotion of the show — is a gift. Because we do need humour and stories that make people feel good, especially with the state of the world right now. I binged the first season over two days, and when I was finished I started it again almost immediately. I never expected to feel so seen by a show that makes me so happy. But One Day at a Time gives me the tools to both confront my depression and heal it.
Go watch it. I hope it changes your life too.
