Tag: grief and transformation

How To Get Out of Depression Without Medication or Therapy

When all feels lost…

The world disappears.
People feel like shadows.
You no longer recognize yourself.

It becomes nearly impossible to grip onto anything—to hold onto even the smallest thread of hope to escape the dreadful prison that depression traps you in.

You ask yourself:

How can I reclaim myself if everything around me feels threatening and the world keeps closing in?

The world doesn’t wait for you to get better.
People don’t pause their lives to give you time.
And worst of all, you’re left alone with your mind, exhausted from trying.

When “Trying” Isn’t Working Anymore

You’ve tried so hard, for so long.
You’ve pushed, coped, masked, smiled—and now, you’re spent.
You think:

“There isn’t another try left in me.”

But something inside you still aches for answers:

  • Why is this happening to me?
  • Why do I always feel this miserable?
  • Will I feel this way forever?

And then, a new thought:

“This can’t be my life. I can’t stay this way forever. I need to do something… but what?”

The Turning Point: Ask Yourself This

This question is where the shift begins:

How did I get here?

This is the start of the investigation.
You begin mapping out the painful moments that led you to this place.

Ask yourself:

  • What imbalances exist in my life?
  • What emotions am I suppressing out of fear?
  • What am I afraid of?
  • What keeps me up at night?
  • What is the worst thing that could happen?
  • What feelings do I need to get out and to who?

Start Gently Telling Yourself the Truth

For me, I had to accept a very real truth:
That I don’t function like others around me.
That I’m neurodivergent.
That my brain processes the world differently.

And with that came acceptance of other truths:

  • I may forget things in conversation, and that’s okay.
  • I might fumble words or mispronounce them.
  • People might bully or mistreat me—but I have the right to walk away.
  • I don’t need to be perfect to be respected.

The more I understood myself—my limitations, quirks, fears, and strengths—the more I could start protecting and advocating for myself.

Become Your Own Protector

Understanding your own boundaries allows you to become your own advocate—your own wingman or wingwoman.

  • You’ll start having your own back.
  • You’ll begin listening to yourself.
  • You’ll stop denying your pain and minimizing your needs.
  • You’ll speak up (or walk away) when someone mistreats you.

And if you’re not able to speak up yet, that’s okay too. It takes time and practice.

Navigating Trauma Responses

I personally deal with the freeze trauma response. It’s brutal.
My body shuts down. My mind goes blank. I stop breathing.

But here’s what changed for me:

Just learning that this is a trauma response helped.
Now, when it happens, I recognize it. I name it. And slowly, my brain starts to realize there’s another way.

Even when I can’t stop it in the moment, I recover faster.
I remember what I learned.
And next time, I’m more prepared.

Waking Yourself Up Again

Healing doesn’t happen all at once.
But it starts in tiny moments:

  • A flower that seems brighter than usual.
  • The breeze that feels like a soft embrace.
  • The sun warming your skin with gentle peace.

These moments wake you up, one breath at a time.

From here, take baby steps—no leaps, no pressure.
If you rush it, you might retraumatize yourself.
Trust me, I’ve been there. You don’t want that.

How to Ask for Space (Without Guilt)

Here’s something I used to say to loved ones:

“I need space because I’m feeling overwhelmed. I need everything to slow down. I need time to reflect and be with myself. When I’m ready, I’ll reach out. I love you.”

Then I’d turn off all notifications.
No guilt. No shame.

You communicated your need clearly.
Now, take care of you.

Accepting That You’re Flawed—and Beautifully Unique

This part may sound odd, but hear me out:

I started thinking about jigsaw puzzles.

You think you’ve failed because your piece doesn’t fit into the puzzle everyone else is working on.

But what if…

Your piece is perfect—you’re just trying to fit it onto the wrong board.

Your piece has edges formed from hardship.
Some sides are soft. Others are jagged.
Your colors might not match this puzzle—but they’re perfect for your own.

You’re not broken.
You’re not too much.
You just need to be on the board that was made for you.

Start Healing Now—Even If You’re Not “Ready”

You don’t need to wait until you’re 100% healed to begin.
You can be broken and still begin recovery.

Start by:

  • Investigating yourself with curiosity, not shame.
  • Asking what you need.
  • Respecting your boundaries.

You’ve spent your life learning how to care for others.
Now, it’s time to learn how to care for yourself.

Boundaries Are Not Selfish—They’re Sacred

Life would be chaos without boundaries.
And your boundaries?
They are valid. They are necessary. They are yours.

Let yourself feel peace in setting them.

A Final Note: To Anyone Struggling

If your heart feels broken…
If your mind feels like a prison…
Please know this:

  • You are not your pain.
  • You are not a threat to yourself.
  • You are not alone.

You can come back.
You can rebuild.
You can feel alive again.

With love,
Jenna

Your voice matters.

Have you experienced something similar?
Share your story in the comments—someone else might need to hear it too.
Let’s create a space of support, not silence.

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The Girl Hidden Beneath The Layers

I let her down.

I let myself down.

I neglected her.

I silenced her.

I hid her away and refused to let her out.

She’s confused. She doesn’t understand why.

Why can’t I be seen?

What’s so wrong with me?

Why am I not allowed to become?

She wants to speak.

She wants to be free.

I resented the world that made me feel like I had to hide her.

The way she was — it didn’t seem acceptable.

She was emotional. Jumpy. Easily excitable. A little skittish.

Were those really such terrible things?

She was sensitive, empathetic, introverted, and quiet.

These are not threatening traits.

So why was she treated like prey?

I know now — my mind was trying to protect us.

It thought staying small would keep us safe.

It wanted us to be accepted. Approved. Included.

But in doing so, it buried her too deep.

And she grew scared.

Anxious.

Untrusting.

My mind told her she was dangerous.

That letting her out would risk everything.

That she would embarrass us.

And others seemed to agree.

They liked us better quiet. Composed. “Easy.”

The Woman Pushing Through the Layers

But she’s still here.

That frightened little girl beneath the layers — I still feel her.

She’s still a little unsure, but she’s beginning to trust me again.

She’s slowly, carefully stepping into the light.

She’s starting to believe she’s no longer a risk.

That maybe… she’s okay just as she is.

And together, our hearts hurt a little less.

Still, I carry the guilt.

Guilt that I didn’t accept her.

That I believed others wouldn’t either.

Sometimes, it feels like I wasted the first half of my life.

All that time spent hiding.

People-pleasing.

Performing.

Now, I want to make it up to her.

But I can’t go back in time.

And I’m no longer that girl.

I’m a woman now.

And being a woman, I’m not “supposed” to act like a teenager.

So how do I carry both — the girl and the woman — at once?

Where Do We Go From Here?

How do you make peace with the younger version of yourself?

Can we ever truly reclaim the time we lost?

Are we allowed to play, to dream, to be a little wild — even now — just to give her what we once denied?

Maybe we need a new phrase.

Something for those of us who are too old for “YOLO”…

But still crave that same hall pass to let the inner girl shine.

Maybe this is what becoming looks like —

Not erasing the past,

But embracing all the layers of who we were and who we are still becoming.

✨ Have you ever felt like you buried a part of yourself?

✨ What would you say to the younger you, if you could?

❓Is there a new word or phrase we can use instead of YOLO? Something for the middle-aged?

Share with me in the comments or send me a message — I’d love to hear your story.

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Quiet Doesn’t Mean Weak

By Jenna

This one’s hard to write.

Silence is what I know.

It became my default — a coping mechanism in response to mistreatment, unethical behavior, and inappropriate situations.

Silence helped me keep the peace.

It stopped me from hurting anyone — even if that person was hurting me.

I once got bullied in an office environment by a previous employer. The aggression and criticism was obvious — and it wasn’t private. Everyone in the office could see it.

After one particularly brutal encounter, a kind, soft-spoken coworker came up to me and asked, with genuine concern,

“Why don’t you stand up for yourself?”

I wanted to cry.

But even my emotions were always in check.

I didn’t know how to let them out — not safely.

I froze. Completely.

My mind went blank — no thoughts, no words. Just white noise.

Because of my ADHD, I worry that if I do speak up, what comes out might be jumbled, confusing, or emotionally tangled.

I’m terrified I’ll say the wrong thing — or that it’ll come out wrong and I’ll look foolish.

So instead, I say nothing at all.

She noticed my discomfort and gently walked away. I could tell she felt horrible. She wanted to help. But she didn’t know how.

And I didn’t know how to let her.

What I wanted to say was:

Because I’m afraid.

Afraid of what would happen next.

Afraid I’d lose my job.

Afraid that if I release my emotions, they’ll pour out all at once — and I’ll scare someone, or scare myself.

So I stayed silent.

Because if I don’t make noise, no one gets hurt.

At least that’s what I told myself.

How Quiet Can Start

I’m naturally quiet. I’m an introvert.

And for most of my life, I was undiagnosed with ADHD — which only made my communication struggles harder to understand, both for me and those around me.

I started learning to quiet my outer voice — letting others speak for me or interpret what I meant.

I internalized the message that maybe I really did need help speaking for myself.

That maybe I couldn’t trust my own voice.

They seemed to function better, more easily.

So I let them take over.

One moment at a time.

And that began the spiral:

Who I am.

What I can and can’t do.

What my “defects” are.

As a child, you’re often taught to bite your tongue — so you don’t say something you regret.

You’re taught to share only the positive things.

No one wants to hear about pain, sadness, or discomfort.

So you start smiling.

You start nodding.

You start pleasing.

And slowly, quietly…

You disappear.

Quiet is Radical Inner Strength

Some people look at quietness and see weakness.

They assume submission, passivity, fragility.

But what they don’t see — what they’ll never know — is how much radical strength it takes to stay quiet.

To hold it in.

To swallow your words, your rage, your hurt… for the sake of peace.

Quietness can be a form of survival.

It’s a kind of strength that doesn’t always look heroic — but it is.

It’s showing up to a social situation knowing people will speak for you — and letting them. Not because you’re weak, but because it’s the only way to make it through.

It’s keeping a smile on your face when your brain is screaming.

It’s staying polite when your heart is in pain.

It’s radical.

It’s resilience.

One of the books that helped me recognize my own strength is From Panic to Power by Lucinda Bassett. A quote from her that’s never left me is:

“I’m glad I had anxiety disorder. It was a curse, but it was a blessing as well. It forced me to acquire coping skills that the average person could definitely use, but will probably never be in enough pain to investigate.”

To all my quiet, beautiful, strong souls — I see you.

You are not invisible.

You are not broken.

You are not weak.

Let’s begin to reclaim our voices. One word at a time.

Let’s be heard.

With you always,

Jenna

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Breathless in Social Anxiety

The Critic

It feels like the person in front of you can see right through you.

Everything you’re trying to hide — they can see.

In that very moment, you’re sure they’ve figured it out:

You’re a fraud.

They’re judging every detail about you — and you’re sure they’re doing it silently.

They’ve already decided they don’t like you.

They’re planning to never talk to you again.

Everyone is against you.

Everyone doesn’t like you.

Everyone wishes you’d go away — and so I did.

What They Don’t Know

Inside, the racing thoughts never stop:

  • I need to change.
  • I need to be better.
  • Why is this so hard for me?
  • Why does it come so easily for everyone else?
  • Why does this make me so nervous?

What Does Anxiety Feel Like?

For me, it feels like I’m not breathing — or like I’ve forgotten how.

My breaths are shallow. Sometimes, the words don’t come out right.

My mouth gets dry.

My hands tremble.

My heart races.

My mind goes blank — mid-conversation — and I forget what we were even talking about.

The response I had practiced disappears the moment I try to speak.

Only when I step away, when my heart slows and my mind clears, can I start to reflect:

Why does this keep happening to me?

The Pattern

This is when I begin to connect the dots.

  • The deer-in-the-headlights expression on their face whenever I tried to speak.
  • The labels put on me that confirmed I was “different.”
  • The constant corrections when I spoke.
  • The hazy mind and poor memory that I couldn’t explain.

Going Down the Dark Path

Once you believe it yourself:

“I’m weird.”

“I’m different.”

“I’m odd.”

“I’m defective.”

It changes the way you see the world — and yourself in it.

You start getting angry at yourself for being the way you are.

You start resenting the world for how it operates.

You avoid social events.

You stay home more often.

You begin to suffer in silence.

This path is dangerous. It can lead to severe mental health struggles.

If you find yourself here — please, reach out for help.

Finding the Other Path

There’s another path — but it’s harder to see when you’ve lived so long believing the lies.

It’s terrifying to put yourself out there again.

To risk being vulnerable.

To risk being misunderstood.

But sometimes, something unlocks the possibility:

A lyric in a song.

A scene from a movie.

A moment of loss.

A breaking point.

And you can see the paths in front of you:

Do you stay in the bubble where it’s safe — where no one can hurt you?

Or do you fight for the life you deserve?

The life where you become something more?

This is the moment your true character reveals itself.

This is where your inner strength is put to the test.

How to Fight Back

For me, healing feels like clawing my way out of my own grave.

You can’t see the surface.

You don’t even know what life will look like once you get there.

You dig. And dig.

And it feels like there’s no progress.

You’re exhausted. You want to give up.

And sometimes, while you’re digging — someone else throws more dirt in your way.

That’s the hardest part.

To keep going while still getting hurt.

But if you can keep going despite the pain — something powerful begins to shift.

You prove to yourself that you’re strong.

You’re resilient.

And slowly… you start to see the progress.

You dig deeper.

You dig harder.

You fear less.

You prepare more.

People around you begin to notice.

You begin to return to your true self.

If you’ve walked a path like mine, leave a comment or hit the like button.

For the healing hearts,

Jenna

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🖤 Welcome to Wig Girl Interrupted

Hi, I’m Jenna — and I’m finally ready to stop hiding.

Starting this blog feels both exciting and terrifying. I’ve never done anything like this before — no personal site, no blog posts, nothing that asked me to be this visible. But after everything I’ve been through — from childhood hair loss to years of self-erasure — I know this step matters.

Sometimes the scariest things are the most important.

✨ Why I’m Here

For most of my life, I struggled to understand what was wrong with me.

I lost my hair as a child and spent years covering it with wigs, trying to blend in. I froze in conversations, avoided mirrors, and shrank myself in relationships that fed on my silence.

I was anxious. Confused. Emotionally exhausted. I didn’t have the words to explain what I was feeling — or why I felt like I was constantly fighting myself.

Then at 39, I was finally diagnosed with ADHD. That moment didn’t fix everything, but it helped me understand myself for the first time. It explained the chaos, the forgetfulness, the emotional flooding, the years of masking.

But even more than that — it helped me begin coming back to myself.

🕊 What “Wig Girl Interrupted” Means

This blog is my space to speak what was once unspoken — about identity, trauma, healing, and transformation.

The name Wig Girl Interrupted represents the pause I’ve lived in for far too long.

Interrupted by alopecia. By toxic relationships. By silence.

Now, I’m writing my way out of that interruption.

Here, I’ll talk about:

  • Life with alopecia and wigs
  • Living with ADHD (and the shame that comes with it)
  • Healing from emotional abuse
  • Rebuilding identity after years of people-pleasing
  • Finding my voice — even when it shakes

💛 If You’re Here, Thank You

If you’ve ever felt like your brain, body, or heart didn’t work the way they were “supposed” to…

If you’ve lost yourself in a relationship, a diagnosis, or the pressure to be everything for everyone…

If you’ve felt interrupted — by life, grief, shame, or silence — this blog is for you.

I don’t have all the answers. But I promise to be real.

If you’re new here, I recommend you Start Here.

Thank you for being here. I can’t wait to grow together.

With love,

Jenna

🪞 Healing is easier when we don’t do it alone. Pass this along to someone who needs to feel seen.

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