Nonetheless, to the viewer, it's obvious throughout that Alma may be flawed, but she is not, in fact, crazy. You could say that her mental health "problem" is that she's capable of seeing her own life's history, and perhaps even the entire universe, with more clarity of perspective than anyone else alive.
Let's return, once again, to that scene from the first episode. After some humping, Alma makes Sam promise that their lives won't match that of her sister's, with marriage and prospective children and, she groans, "being all happy." Sam agrees, and they share a deep kiss.
"But it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," he adds. Alma grunts, saying that was the wrong answer before flipping Sam over and resuming her pelvic thrusts. "No, no! You're humping me again?" Sam laughs. "You're so crazy." Then the tone shifts.
"No, I'm not. I'm not crazy," Alma says sternly.
"OK, sorry," Sam says. "Sorry."
This early shredding of the tired "crazy" sticker, something that targets folks dealing with mental health issues every day, points toward the argument Undone makes throughout its eight episodes. Despite Alma's quirks and struggles, she possesses great power and the agency to self-actualize when tagged with a label, well-meaning or otherwise. When I finished watching Undone, I was left wanting more of Alma's hallucinogenic temporal world, as if I ingested her breaks from reality to become my own.