Tag: Mental Health

Whispers in the Smoke

Things as bright as day
Started turning gray
There’s worry in the air
I look up to the sky and stare
The gold of the sun stolen away

Darkness floods around the space
Twisting, swirling, trails of smoke
Curves and bends with subtle grace
I’m drawn towards its beauty
It stretches out towards me
As wispy claws curl and choke

It’s everywhere but no one sees
I breathe in the smoke unwillingly
It floods my body, clouds my brain
Whispering words that cause me pain

It wants to turn me dark
It knows I have the spark
That can burn the hot flame
Because people are to blame

It was the reason I was found
I got beaten to the ground
My silent screams made a sound
A host to the haze, it has me bound

Eternal smoke burns my throat
With every inhale of the drawn coat
My heart crumbles into ash
As I surrender to its whipping lash

The clouds hover to reveal the enemies
It shows me a world covered in fog
No sense of reason as I walk in the smog
The last string of hope breaks with me

More whispers of a dreadful world
I’m slipping into a blurred daze
I’m spinning into a catastrophic craze
I watch as the smoke dances and swirls

I think about preparing to fight
I cannot live this way forever
I cannot bury my soul in surrender
I must work the spark and force ignite

Then I remembered
You can’t beat smoke with a flame
It will not cease or render
I need a new way to battle and tame

Perhaps I need coldness
Perhaps I need to brew a storm
The type of storm that is opposite
The storm that will bring the rain
The storm that will bring the breeze
The storm that will bring the clean air

I work against what I’ve known
My softness needs to harden
My sweetness needs to toughen
My weakness needs to strengthen
My recentness needs to cool down

I dig deep to restructure my thoughts
I dig deep to rebuild from scratch
I dig deep to find new meaning
I dig deep to reclaim myself

I push through my drawbacks
I push through the uncomfortable
I push through the painful unease
I push harder for my personal gain

Then things started changing
I evolved into layers of hard slate
I evolved into tough unbreakable steel
I evolved into strong unshakable stone

I feel the rain fall down my cheek
The storm welcomes me from sorrow
I’m filling in the areas that were left hollow
Crawling blind to reach the peak

I use my rain to smother the coals
I remove its power of burning souls

I push the smoke with my roaring winds
So powerful the trees sway with rage
A twister forms sending its own message
Of what you put out comes back times two

The haze is trapped unable to escape
It’s in a dizzying frenzy and becoming scared
When it’s time I release it
And it vanishes through the forest

It knew I had the potential for greatness
But it was not prepared for my battle
I was supposed to be its prodigy
Not the warrior battling with fury

To ensure I’ve won the fight
I summon the cold white snow
To place its calming blanket
Over everything in sight

I sit down on the snowflake quilt
I inhale my new strength and power
And exhale the anger and fury
I inhale taking from what I’ve learned
And exhale releasing old parts of me

I open my eyes and look around where I sit
I’m no longer on the chilly quilt
I’m sitting on my bedroom floor
Everything looks so different
The world is not the same

And when I step outside to look at the sky
I see the brightness of day
And the sun orangey halo warms the air
It welcomes me with kisses on my cheeks

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Under The Ice

First comes the frost
when the threat draws near,
a feeling of being lost
as icy feathers appear.

The cold of that bitter chill
numbs and holds me still,
while a fog blurs every thought.

The weight of the ice sheet
forms its unwanted shield;
I’m stunned — I cannot beat
a false protection that leaves me unhealed.

I am frozen to my seat,
unable to move,
a statue of my defeat —
impossible to prove.

No one can see this battle,
no one could ever tell;
I’m silent in the struggle,
locked inside my shell.

My breathing turns shallow,
my mind goes blank,
my insides frozen hollow;
beneath the blanket, I sank.

My heart starts to race
with an icy fear
that I will have to face
being trapped, frozen here.

Panic surges through me —
there is no way to show,
for my screams are buried
deep in the drifting snow.

The frozen version of me
offers no sign, no clue
of what’s breaking inside
beneath these icy hues.

When the threat finally leaves
and the ice starts to thaw,
my mind begins to grieve
its hold so raw.

As the cracks start to spread,
its grip begins to lift;
slowly it draws back —
I feel the faintest shift.

Little by little the layers shed;
the first to rise is my head.

Next comes my breath —
long forgotten, yet near;
slowly it returns,
but the fear does not disappear.

I look around the room,
trying to understand;
shame floods through me
as I try to stand.

Shaky, confused,
and still in the dark,
I carry the quiet fear
of the frost-bitten mark.

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Letters To My Kids

My Dear Loves,

Beautiful angels, there’s so much I want to teach you and show you.

Sometimes I worry I’ll be too busy or distracted to tell you. Or that I’ll say the wrong thing when you really need the right answer.

So I’m writing it all down for you now. If my voice isn’t always there, maybe my words will be.

Sweet angel loves, I want to prepare you for the battles ahead—and the ones no one can prepare for:

  • The bullies who may try to hurt you—and how to walk away strong.
  • The boundaries to set so you’re never a victim.
  • The anxiety that may sneak in, uninvited and confusing.
  • The depression that might visit, trying to diminish your light.
  • The heartache you’ll feel, even when you’ve done nothing wrong.
  • The beauty of finding true connection and chemistry.

Life is vast, complex, unpredictable, and wildly out of our control.

I don’t believe anyone ever lands on one final answer or perfect solution. Life will always have uncertainty—and that’s okay.

Please, my sweet angels, never rely on others to prove that your life is good.

  • Don’t rely on others to create your happiness.
  • Don’t expect others to read your mind.
  • Your life isn’t defined by who loves you or who stays.
  • Your worth isn’t measured by how well someone takes care of you.

The only control you have in this world is how you live in it.

  • You are responsible for your happiness.
  • You are responsible for taking care of yourself.
  • You are responsible for listening to your emotions and finding solutions.
  • You are your own advocate.
  • You must protect yourself. Believe in yourself. Defend yourself.

If you can do that, your relationships will feel balanced and full of harmony.

Take responsibility for yourself—without placing that weight on others. And when you support the people you love, do so with healthy boundaries.

Friends and family can offer advice, comfort, love, and a listening ear—but they can’t live your life for you. The big decisions must come from within.

Knowing this frees you. You’ll learn what you can expect from others—and what’s not your job to fix.

This is how you draw the line. This is how you build boundaries. Things become clearer. More structured. And that structure brings peace, stability, and safety.

It reminds you that you are capable. That you can care for yourself. That you can love yourself.

Handling Bullies

This one’s tricky. Mommy is 39 and still figuring it out. But I’m getting there—stronger each time. Less afraid each day.

So, what do you do with bullies?

First and most important—acknowledge right away that what was said or done is wrong, false, and abusive. Don’t let it sink in as truth.

Recognize that you do not deserve this. That their words may come from ignorance, anger, or fear—but that doesn’t excuse the harm.

Then, if you feel safe to do so, challenge them. Speak up. Show others this behavior isn’t okay. Help create a safe space for yourself and those around you.

You might say:

  • “Say what you want, I don’t care.”
  • “I’m not stupid. That’s mean. Why would you say that?”
  • “I’m not a bitch—I care deeply about people.”
  • “How dare you call me that. I’m a good person. I wouldn’t call you names—until now.”

If it gets really bad, call someone you trust.

When you get home, take time to process. Write it out. Sit with your thoughts. Talk it over with someone who loves you.

Each experience will teach you. You’ll get better and better at protecting your peace.

And if you get stuck—it’s okay.

  • If your mind goes blank—it’s okay.
  • If you can’t find the words—it’s okay.
  • If you cry—it’s okay.
  • If you walk away without saying anything—it’s okay.

Just keep practicing self-love. Keep remembering what you deserve.

Everyone in this world is entitled to:

  • Respect
  • Kindness
  • Equality
  • Acceptance
  • Compassion

You are no different. Please don’t ever believe you are.

My sweet loves, you will need to grow armor in this world—but also learn to surrender and be vulnerable. Know when to be strong and when to be soft.

Know when to show your pride—and when to step aside so someone else can shine, too.

My angels, I’ll write to you again soon.

There is no measurement big enough for the love I have for you both.

Love you always and forever,
Mom

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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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What Depression Feels Like

By Jenna

I used to think depression felt the same for everyone—just a deep, lingering sadness. But I’ve realized that it can feel differently for every person.

Just like anxiety, depression shares some common emotional burdens, but how it shows up and settles into someone’s life is entirely unique.

My Experience

For me, depression felt like numbness. A hollow, exhausted version of myself shuffled through life like a zombie—detached, foggy, and not really living.

There was no hope.
No way out.
No more trying.
I’d lost. I gave in.
I told myself, “This pain is just my life now.”

I believed no one truly understood.
No one could really help.
And worst of all, I couldn’t help myself.

I know that some of my loved ones struggle to read what I write here. It hurts them, and many may never make it through a full post. But I’m not writing for comfort—I’m writing to connect with people who need this.

People who are surviving minute by minute, not day by day.
People hanging on by a thread, unsure if anyone out there feels the same.

When You’re Watching Someone Go Through Depression

When someone you love is depressed, it’s natural to want to help. To fix them. To pull them out. You may try everything: encouraging social activities, new hobbies, sunlight, movement—anything to bring them back to “normal.”

But depression doesn’t work like that. And forcing them into things—even things you believe will help—can make it worse.

They’re fragile. Everything is too much right now.

The truth is:
Only they can get themselves out.
And only when they’re ready.

Living With Depression

Living with depression is like grieving the life you currently have.

It’s not just sadness. It’s a wound—a deep, invisible injury that feels like it’s torn your soul in half. You can’t sleep it off. You can’t just decide to distract your way out of it.

Depression is when you hit a point where your mind can’t shake the pain anymore. You lose that ability to clear your head and start fresh like you used to.

You’re rebuilding from the inside out.

At times, it feels like starting over with just bone and flesh. You’ve forgotten who you are. Everyone around you feels like shadows. The world is alien, unreal, meaningless.

Nothing is nothing is nothing.
And you are nothing.

That’s how it feels.
You’re not “just down.” You’ve lost yourself.
You avoid people, not out of rudeness, but because you can’t handle anything—not even your own company.

How to Actually Help Someone With Depression

So what can you do?

You can be there. Truly be there.
Without an agenda. Without judgment. Without trying to fix.

Be someone they can trust implicitly.
Be the one who answers at 3 a.m.
Be their lifeline when they finally reach out.

  • Come to listen.
  • Come to support.
  • Come without needing them to be okay.

Offer a space that feels safe and sacred.
Let them call the shots.
Let them talk—or not.
Let them make plans—or cancel everything.
Stand beside them—or give them space.
Speak truthfully—or say nothing at all.

Being there in silence is sometimes the greatest act of love.

The Turning Point: The Baby Steps

Eventually, many people living with depression reach another breaking point. They hit the crossroads: continue down the same path, or try—just try—to find another.

For me, I knew one thing: I could never hurt myself or anyone else. I wasn’t built that way. Even the idea of causing pain was too much. I could barely help someone with a splinter without flinching.

But I also knew I couldn’t go on like I was.

That’s when I saw my doctor.

If you’re at that point, please reach out to a professional. Often, depression treatment begins with a conversation, a temporary prescription, and a therapy referral. It’s a first step—just one.

And sometimes, one is enough to change direction.

What Antidepressants Felt Like (For Me)

In the beginning, antidepressants felt a bit like CBD. Everything slowed down. I was tired, foggy, and buzzed. But the small things that used to send me spiraling—suddenly, they didn’t.

If a dark thought crept in, my brain shut off its power and control.

It was like watching a movie, and just when it’s about to get intense, someone switches the channel—without asking. But you don’t mind. You trust them. So you just let it happen.

It actually made me smile. This was my brain. So powerful, yet so delicate. And now, maybe, just maybe, I could work with it instead of against it.

Signs Someone Might Be Struggling

If you’re unsure whether someone is dealing with depression, here’s what you might notice:

  • Loss of self-expression
  • The light in their eyes is gone
  • Simple tasks become too challenging
  • They look physically in pain—but they aren’t
  • Isolating themselves from family and friends
  • Angry and melancholy consistently
  • They speak less and block more
  • No longer enjoy things they used to
  • Constant overstimulation
  • They hate the world and everyone in it
  • They feel no one understands—and no one ever will
  • They believe others have it easy, and they are left to suffer alone

If you see these signs, don’t try to fix them. Just be the person they need—not the person you think they should be.

There Is No Formula

Getting out of depression has no timeline.
No magic routine.
No 5-step recovery plan.

It leaves when it’s ready to leave—when the person is ready, and strong enough, to make the first steps toward healing.

Until then, don’t rush them. Don’t expect them to “get better” for your sake.

Hold space.
Love gently.
And if you are the one hurting right now…

You are not alone.
Not broken.
Not invisible.

For the hearts in pain right now,
Jenna

If you recognized yourself in this post, try writing down one thing you want to feel again. One light you don’t want to lose. That’s where healing begins.

2

Feeling Everything as a Sensitive Empath

Have you ever felt the weight of someone else’s sadness like it was your own?

Ever wonder what it’s like to be overly sensitive?
Have you seen others who are?
Struggling to understand why they feel so deeply?

A highly sensitive person experiences the world more intensely than most.

  • Cold water shocks us.
  • Loud noises startle us.
  • Getting hurt physically feels more painful.

But it’s not just physical.
We feel your pain—your discomfort, your heartache—as if it’s happening to us.

We carry the weight of your emotions in our chest.
When you hurt, we hurt. When you cry, we want to rescue. When you suffer, we can’t ignore it.

We must do something. Sitting still isn’t an option.

It deeply unsettles us when someone is unhappy or in pain.
Now imagine feeling all that for others—only to be misunderstood or mistreated.

It’s confusing.
Why would we be punished for caring so deeply?
Why is being empathetic so often seen as a weakness?

They don’t understand why we react “so strongly.”
They don’t get why their pain becomes our pain.

This imbalance? It leaves both sides feeling unseen and misunderstood.

I realized I had to do something.

Slowly Feeling Less

When I began taking anti-anxiety and antidepressant medication, I noticed a shift.

I felt less sensitive. I felt calmer.

I was still me—still empathetic, still caring. But it no longer consumed me.
I could process, pause, and breathe.

It helped me understand how others detach—without being cold or unkind.

I still feel. I still care. But now, I do it with balance.

The gentle, sensitive version of me is still here.
And she’s still a good person.

It’s OK to Feel

  • Feeling means you’re alive.
  • Feeling means you care.
  • Feeling means you are real.

But when you stop feeling…

  • You stop caring.
  • You stop trying.
  • You stop showing up.

That’s not okay.

If you’ve stopped caring about something—maybe it’s time to stop doing it.
If you’ve stopped caring about someone—maybe it’s time to let them go.
If your passion is gone—go looking for it again.
If your empathy has faded—ask yourself why.

Bottled-up emotions only hide who you truly are.
Silence gives others permission to cross your boundaries.

When you stay silent, manipulation creeps in.
When manipulation settles in, you lose yourself.
And when you lose yourself, you stop taking care of yourself.

Then come resentment, anger… and eventually, you begin to disappear.

You stop expressing. You stop showing. You stop being you.

That’s when depression and anxiety start to whisper.
And then shout.

How to Speak Up When You’re Scared

Speaking up is hard. But with practice, it becomes less so.

Find the method that feels safest for you.

For me? I grab a blank piece of paper and pour it all out.
Fast, messy, unfiltered.

I write until the pressure in my chest starts to lift.
That’s when I can breathe again.

Recently, I had two difficult conversations—
One over the phone. One face to face.

In both, I read directly from the paper.

I felt nervous.
I felt guilty.
I felt mean, dramatic, and foolish.

But I knew I had to do it anyway.

Did I feel instant relief? No.
What actually helps is when the behavior stops—or lessens.
That’s when the healing begins.

You begin to see that hard conversations can bring change.
And that makes the next one feel just a bit easier.

And even if it’s hard to process at first, people often come back and say,
“Thank you for telling me.”

The Give and Take

It’s always about balance.

Where you end and I begin.
Where I end and you begin.

Surround yourself with people who instinctively know:
When to step forward,
When to give space,
When to speak,
When to listen.

Be that person for them, too.

Flow together. Respect each other’s feelings.
Be brave enough to step back—and brave enough to step forward.

With all the feels,
Love,
Jenna

If you’ve felt this too, I see you. Feel free to share your story below or write it out for yourself—you deserve to be heard.

“Empathy is the highest form of knowledge.” – Bill Bullard

2

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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What Healing Actually Looks Like

It feels like starting completely over—rebuilding every part of who you are.

The hard truth? You’re changing yourself… for yourself.

And in that process, a darker voice creeps in:

I guess there’s a lot wrong with me.

Why am I so broken?

Why do I have to change so much?

Why does the world make it so hard to be who I am?

But what you have to remember is: you’re not changing because you’re broken.

You’re changing because you deserve better.

You’re healing toward the life you were meant to live.

And with that change comes strength—power, resilience, clarity.

Healing isn’t glamorous. It’s not polished or picture-perfect.

It’s raw. Uncomfortable. Messy.

You’ll feel the pull of old thought patterns trying to reel you back in.

Your inner safety blanket will whisper, “Come back. It’s safer here.”

It wants to protect you—like it always has.

It’s like trying to push your hand through a membrane that stretches but won’t break.

You push harder, and it wraps around you—until you do something more.

Push with truth. Push with purpose.

At first, it feels wrong. Unnatural.

Like you’re becoming someone who isn’t you.

But you are—you’re becoming someone you’ve never been allowed to be.

And when you finally break through that first thick layer, you realize: there’s another one waiting.

Not quite as thick, not quite as loud—but still there.

Each layer teaches you something.

Each one asks for a different kind of strength.

I’m still breaking through membranes of my own.

And I don’t know if there’s an end—

If I’ll ever get to the place where I’m fully free.

Maybe none of us ever do.

Maybe we just keep shedding.

Layer after layer, we become.

For the healing hearts,

— Jenna

If you’re in the middle of your own becoming, breaking through your own layers — I see you. 💭

This path can feel lonely, but it doesn’t have to be.

If this post spoke to something in you, I’d be honoured if you shared your thoughts in the comments 💬 or sent me a message 📩. Your story matters too — and you never know who it might comfort.

You can also subscribe if you’d like to walk this journey together 🧡.

No noise, no pressure. Just honest words when they’re ready.

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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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Losing Your Identity in Relationships

Being Someone’s Shadow

It always felt natural for me to step aside and let others take the spotlight. I felt safer behind someone — letting them make the decisions and speak for me.

I liked observing. Watching. Reflecting. I studied how people acted, responded, gestured, and spoke. I believed that one day, if I learned well enough, I could mimic those actions and finally build strong, lasting relationships.

But just because you study something, doesn’t mean you can replicate it.

And when I tried to — it didn’t feel right. It felt like bad acting in front of an audience I was desperate to impress. All I wanted was to run off stage, close the curtain, and find my quiet, safe place.

When You Become a Shadow

The danger of living in someone else’s shadow is that you slowly begin to disappear.

Your identity starts to fade.

The more you silence your voice, the harder it becomes to hear it at all. Eventually, you’re invisible — to others, and worst of all, to yourself.

Toxic Environments

You can move through life quietly, blending in or hiding behind someone else — and sometimes, that works when your environment is calm. But the moment you step into a toxic space, that habit becomes dangerous.

How can you tell you’re in a toxic environment?

Here are some of the red flags:

  • Jealousy — They get angry or suspicious about your other relationships.
  • Control — They micromanage where you go, who you’re with, and when you’ll be back.
  • Possession – They make you feel like you should belong only to them, slowly pulling you away from others.
  • Criticism — They constantly find fault and second-guess your decisions.
  • Isolation — They push friends and family away and get upset when you make plans.
  • Manipulation — They influence or control you in order to meet their own personal gains.
  • Bullying — They label you, mock you, or treat you like an outcast.

I started to speak less. I second-guessed everything. I became afraid of saying the wrong thing.

I lost confidence.

I lost friendships.

I lost my voice.

I was afraid to make plans. Afraid to stay out too long. Afraid to be noticed.

Eventually, the anxious behavior became noticeable — and people stopped inviting me altogether.

When the anxiety didn’t go away, the labels started: weird, abnormal, never able to relax.

And over time, I believed them.

Maybe I am weird.

Maybe I am abnormal.

Maybe I’ll never be able to relax.

When I did speak, I was told I was wrong.

It started to feel like nothing I said ever came out right.

Eventually, I stopped trying to speak — unless absolutely necessary.

That’s how it happens.

That’s how you begin to lose yourself.

And you start to think:

Maybe I can’t do this on my own.

The Collapse

Eventually, the cracks became too deep to hide.

My confidence collapsed.

My mind grew hazy.

I stuttered.

I panicked.

I avoided everyone.

I hadn’t had a close friend in over 10 years.

I longed for connection — someone who could see me. But the desperation made everything harder. Friendships became pressure. Every attempt felt like too much.

And failure after failure slowly unraveled me.

I couldn’t function.

I went mute unless absolutely necessary.

My body and mind felt like an empty shell — like a DVD player with no disc. Unplayable. Gone.

Even basic requests exhausted me.

I pushed everyone away — including my own family at times.

Eventually, I reached out for help. I was prescribed anxiety and depression medication and encouraged to start therapy right away.

The Path to Recovery

Recovery hasn’t been quick or easy.

It’s been a long road of self-discovery, mental rewiring, and learning how to draw healthy boundaries. I’ve been learning to recognize unethical behavior — and more importantly, to stand up to it.

I still take anxiety and depression medication, and was recently diagnosed with ADHD.

That diagnosis helped everything make more sense. The medication I take now improves focus, calms the buzzing in my brain, and helps me complete tasks.

My memory is sharper. My mind is steadier.

And I’ve realized something crucial:

The parts of me that are fast-moving, detail-loving, and high-energy aren’t broken.

They’re just me.

Even with medication, I still bounce around the house and multitask like it’s my superpower — and that’s okay. I’m learning to embrace it, not erase it.

Still Healing

I’m still on this journey — day by day, moment by moment.

Books have been a key part of my recovery. If you’re on your own path of healing, here are some that have helped me:

📚 BOUNDARIES: Where You End, And I Begin — Anne Katherine, M.A.

📚 The Men’s Guide To Women — John & Julie Gottman, PhD

📚 From Panic to Power — Lucinda Bassett

📚 The Grief Recovery Handbook — John W. James & Russell Friedman (just getting started)

Thank you for reading.

If you’re somewhere in this story too — please know you’re not alone.

🩵

For the healing hearts,

Jenna

💬 If you’re navigating something similar, I’d love to hear from you. Let’s create space for each other — feel free to leave a comment or message me on Instagram/Twitter/Threads

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