Tag: self-discovery

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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How I’m Learning to Trust Myself Again

Breaking the Pattern

At one point, I was seeing two therapists at the same time — a family therapist and a cognitive behavioural therapist (thankfully covered by insurance). They both gave me different tools for breaking old patterns and reclaiming my sense of self.

The family therapist helped me relearn the basics — the black-and-white of what’s right and what’s wrong. One of the first things she recommended was the book Boundaries: Where You End and I Begin by Anne Katherine.

That book was a wake-up call.

It showed me:

  • why I was afraid to speak up,
  • why I allowed things to happen without question,
  • why I often felt unsafe in my own body.

It reflected back to me stories that felt eerily familiar — but from someone else’s perspective. It forced me to acknowledge that what I’d experienced was not okay. And that I needed to stop those patterns, just like I would want someone else to stop them for themselves.

Meanwhile, my cognitive behavioural therapist offered me something radically different — permission. Permission to say “fuck it.”

If someone consistently mistreats me, excludes me, or simply doesn’t like me…

I don’t need to try harder.

I don’t need to be nicer.

I don’t owe them my time, energy, or attention.

I just need to be polite. Curious in my hello, kind in my goodbye — and nothing more.

She also introduced me to something called the Challenge It method. When I’m convinced someone thinks I’m strange or unlikable, I ask myself:

What proof do I have?

Do I really know what they think of me? Am I 100% sure? Are they even thinking about me at all?

Most of the time, we’re not hearing people — we’re just hearing our own self-doubt echoing in our minds.

We’re not truly listening. We’re not asking questions. We’re performing, shrinking, scanning ourselves for flaws.

No wonder it’s so hard to connect.

But when you shift your focus outward — when you simply listen — you can breathe again. The pressure lifts. It’s not about you anymore. You can just be.

Of course, those self-critical thoughts will creep in again. They always do.

But the difference is: now I know I don’t have to surrender to them.

I can notice them, acknowledge them — and decide they don’t get to run my life anymore.

The Path to Trusting Yourself

Learning to trust yourself means believing in your ability to handle what life brings — to do something well, and to recognize when something isn’t right.

That kind of trust feels almost impossible when you’ve failed more times than you can count. But the first step isn’t perfect — it’s softening your expectations.

Start by lowering the pressure you put on yourself. Lower the bar for how a situation should turn out. Let go of the idea that you have to perform perfectly in every interaction or moment.

Instead, offer yourself grace.

It’s okay if you stutter.

It’s okay if you mix up your words.

It’s okay if your mind goes blank and you need to pause mid-sentence.

Over time, you can even start letting others in — gently and with humor:

“Oh my gosh, why did I say that? Haha.”

“Oops, I totally butchered that word.”

When your mind freezes — what do you do?

First, know that you can’t force yourself to snap out of it. That freeze is a trauma response. It’s your brain trying to protect you from perceived danger, even if that danger isn’t real in the moment.

Instead, take a breath (if you can). Excuse yourself. Step away — go to the bathroom, get a drink, check your phone. Give yourself the space to reset.

When I learned that it was okay to leave mid-conversation, everything shifted. I began noticing how many people do this — and no one judged them. No one thought they were rude. In fact, I realized people were doing it with me, too. It was just… normal.

The freeze response eases only when you feel safe. So ask yourself: Do I feel good being here?

If the answer is no — you’re allowed to leave. Even if it’s the main event. Even if you feel like you’re letting someone down. Say you feel unwell. Say you need to rest. And go.

I used to force myself to stay until the end — no matter how uncomfortable I felt. My brain would blank out over and over, but I’d keep pushing through. Why? Because I didn’t believe I had a right to leave. I didn’t believe I had a voice, or preferences, or needs. I was in survival mode.

By the end of the night, I’d feel completely drained — emotionally, mentally, spiritually. I’d spiral into shame for having a “broken” brain. I’d go quiet again. Let others take over. I was there, physically — smiling, nodding, playing the part — but inside, I was numb.

It’s a beautiful thing to be generous with your time, to listen deeply, to support others — but not when it costs you your mental health.

You can’t keep betraying yourself in the name of being kind.

Take care of you, first.

Mild discomfort is one thing — and yes, it can be noble. But chronic, self-abandoning discomfort isn’t noble. It’s harm.

You are good. You are kind. And you are allowed to put your needs first.

If anxiety hits, ground yourself.

Look around — name five objects in the room.

Focus on your breath.

Inhale a little deeper. Exhale a little slower.

Most people won’t even notice. And if they do? So what. You’ve probably heard someone take a deep breath while talking, too — it’s human.

Then, when you’re ready, gently shift your attention back to the moment. Acknowledge whatever negative thought popped in — and instead of letting it hijack you, get curious about it.

Where did this thought come from? Why now?

We all have these thoughts. Every one of us. And they don’t go away.

Maybe you feel insecure around someone who seems more confident or accomplished.

Maybe you feel envious of someone who seems to have a happier life.

That doesn’t make you bad — it makes you human.

The key is to understand what’s bothering you.

Ask yourself: Why is this getting to me?

Write it down. Say it out loud. Talk to someone you trust.

Once you start gathering those answers, you can reflect. And when you reflect, you begin to strip those thoughts of their power.

They’ll still show up — sometimes the same ones, over and over — but they won’t hit as hard. You’ll get better at seeing them, naming them, and letting them pass.

Let them move through you, not into you.

Trust doesn’t come from silencing every negative thought.

It comes from knowing you can survive them — and still show up with love, for yourself.

Offer yourself the same acceptance you’d give someone else.

Show yourself the same compassion you’d feel for a friend.

Love yourself — especially when you feel flawed.

With love,

Jenna

💬 Have you struggled with trusting yourself too? I’d love to hear your experience — feel free to share in the comments below. 👇

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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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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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🖤 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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