Photo by Christy Zigweid (all rights reserved)

I was asked last year to describe my blog in one word. For something that should have taken a while to come up with, it popped right into my mind: Authenticity.

There are a lot of blogs out there as well as many writers. Everyone is looking for “the way” to make it and have their voice heard. I’m embarrassed to say you will find posts on my blog which fall flat on their face. Those blog posts were written because I felt I needed to get something out to my readers. But there are also meaningful posts where I was being myself. 

Authenticity matters to me because I don’t want to be like everyone else. I don’t want to “stand out” from the crowd. I write because I want to be true to myself as well as my readers, not some cut out cookie content mill. I write because I want my words to heal not only myself, but possibly help someone else going through the same thing. I write because I believe people should be true to themselves. And before you can be true to yourself, you have to want to learn about yourself. I’ve spent a lot of time doing this, partly because I’m an introvert and partly because I’ve battled mental illness since I was in high school. Years of therapy have helped me learn the good, the bad, and the downright ugly things I didn’t want to acknowledge, but have made me a better person.

When I started this writing adventure a few years ago, I had no idea what I was doing. All I wanted to do was join NaNoWriMo and write a book in 30 days. And I did. I wrote a book in 30 days. I was proud of my accomplishment. Then I started reading and believing what all the writers and marketers out there were saying about making a living as a writer. They said in order to be successful, you must have a “platform” and a “blog.” I remember thinking, “What the hell is a platform?”​ and "What the hell do I want to write about?" -- I'm still figuring this last one out!

​I started searching and reading everything I could about building a platform. I set up my website and started blogging, continuing to read in an effort to convince myself I would become a better writer because of it. Then I started believing I “had” to do all those things to make it as a writer and gain readers. Because let’s be honest, without readers, writers wouldn’t have jobs.

I believed in many of the falsities, and in the process lost “why” I was writing. In fact, I’d given up writing altogether because I was searching for “how to” be a writer instead of just being a writer. The truth is, as writers we still have our words and no one will ever be able to take that away from us. For that right, I am thankful.

But there’s one small truth no one is acknowledging. You don’t have to do all that stuff if it’s not true to who you are and what you are doing. Let me repeat this: You don’t have to do all that stuff if it’s NOT TRUE to who you are and what you are doing.

I recognized I was not being true to myself last fall and that’s why I dialed back on the number of writing blogs I was reading and the number of podcasts I was listening to.

I’ve stopped blogging and writing altogether. I’ve fallen into the trap of believing I wouldn’t be good unless I did “X” again.  And the more I believe this, the more I can't actually write.

I wanted to be among that group of “successful” writers. I wanted to make it as a writer so bad that I unintentionally set myself up for failure. And guess what happened? I crashed. I do not handle failure well. I’m not sure anyone does. My writer insecurity took over and I began to second guess everything I’d done. My instinct was to delete everything it all because I’d convinced myself it wasn’t making a difference and that my writing flat-out sucked.

I ignored the fact that first and foremost my writing should first be for me. And if someone else likes it, great. If they don’t, so be it. I ignored the fact that I started writing because I like to tell stories.

In my attempt to “fix” this crash, I started to read more and more about how to be a better writer and build an audience  This only left me not writing at all. I believed I was an awful writer. Any negative feedback shot me down. I started looking at my work with such a critical eye, my writing was no longer enjoyable. I believed in the false truth that I am a shitty writer.

I forced myself not to listen to all the nonsense out there about how to make it as a writer. And for a while I was doing better.
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​But here I sit today, back in that spot of having to do “X” to be good, to be heard. And I have a confession to make. I’m not sure blogging is for me. Most times it feels forced and fake, inauthentic. I’m realizing the more I try to fight that simple truth, the more I push myself to be something I am not and create writing that is inauthentic.
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​I’m right back where I started, afraid and discouraged, stuck in the writer’s hole of hell, wondering how I will get out. It cripples me and keeps me stuck. And while I believe many writers feel this way, having chronic depression and anxiety doesn’t help me pull out of the situation or look at things logically.

​​Today there’s something different. I’m seeing it from a different angle and I am breaking the rules of the “experts.” I am taking the pop ups off my website. And I am not offering the free incentive readers get “only if” they sign up for my email list. 

I want people to sign up for my email list because they want to, because maybe I have something useful to say, not because I have to offer them something, coercing them into “giving” me their email. As writers, we lie to ourselves and convince ourselves we have to have people join our email list otherwise we aren’t successful.

I want my writing to be useful, for myself and for you, my readers. If my writing isn’t useful for you, that’s great. If it is useful for you, that’s great too. But I cannot continue to ignore the nagging sensation of not being authentic. So, while I work through how I want to get my writing out there, I’m changing the rules to fit my authentic self. I cannot continue to have this war inside myself. I cannot continue being stuck inside my head. I want to write. I want to sell my work.  And I refuse to put it out there if it isn’t authentic.

In the distance, I can see,

Those whose lives are completely free.

The chains that bind me threaten to kill,

My strength is diminishing and I can’t stand still.

I’m trying not to sink but it’s pulling me down,

Voices constantly haunt me,

And blackness is all around.

I can’t get past the anger, self-doubt, and mistakes.

Distortion has taken over,

Convincing me to believe,

I am not worth anything.

Tired and lonely,

Hating myself more all the time.

Help me beat this raging war inside.

I hear people say,

Don’t give up so easily.

Tomorrow is coming,

And it will pass.

Hold on for now,

Help is coming fast.

The life preserver is cast,

And floats right before me.

Do I reach a hold and go to shore?

Or do I sink and let it all go?

I’ve convinced myself this world is okay without me.

But deep in my heart, I know it’s not true.

For there are those who depend on me,

Who anchor my feet so willing to fly.

I can make it through this darkness,

One step at a time.

Help me see I am okay,

Take this sadness, take this pain,

Tear it away from me so I can start anew.

Help me see and realize what is true.

Calm and peaceful I can be,

When sleep and calm thoughts are at my side.

Tomorrow’s another day,

There is light on the other side.

photo by stevepb via Pixabay

We’ve had a lot of lemons thrown at us over the past few months. They’ve multiplied like little gremlins, taking over confidence, self care, and relationships within the family. They are like the endless winter which keeps hanging around, even though it’s April. I’m not tired of the cooler temperatures but I am tired of the lemons. They are starting to smell and eat away at me slowly.

Today is the third day in a row I’ve been up at 5:30 am and let me tell you, I am NOT a morning person. Sleep is essential in my recovery process. And when I don’t sleep well I spiral quickly.

I’ve been going through medicine changes which have caused my sleep to decline and my weight to pile on. The weight pile on has made my depression worse. I’ve tried to talk about my concerns with my therapist and those in my close knit group about weight and body issues but everyone seems to write it off and say it’s not a huge deal; reasoning everyone struggles with diet and weight. I’m not buying that. To some extent I know people struggle with it. But do they struggle with it so much that it COMPLETELY alters mood, self-esteem and daily life?

I am also trying to learn how to live with chronic pain. Diagnosed with MPS (myofasical pain syndrome) this past year, I’ve had to learn how to live with flare ups and limited activity, which is hard for me. And here’s the catch. The medicine supposed to help with my pain is causing weight gain. And while I know many psychiatric medicines do have that side effect, it’s the one that troubles me most and makes my depression worse. So now I’m in a bind trying to decide: Do I keep on the Mrs helping the chronic pain or do I go off and deal with the pain?

The past month has been a fog to me. In fact, I had lunch with my daughter the other day and I barely remember being with her. I often have memory problems, which I loathe entirely. It scares me for the future. My body moves around but my mind no longer moves with it. My mind is its own little person in a way, and it’s loving the depression and anxiety.

All Artwork and photos by Christy Zigweid - All Rights Reserved

I’ve turned to art and sewing to help ease the pain of difficult days and try to keep myself busy. Being a SAHM is sometimes VERY lonely, especially when your kids are all in school. And I find pleasure in small moments. I’m making it work. I’m getting by.

In the meantime, I’m still deciding if I want to make lemonade or throw them with great force back to wherever they are coming from. I hope you are not having a lemon kind of day. And if you are, know you are not alone. Take comfort in knowing it will get better in time and things will work themselves out (my husband tells me this all the time—but I’m not sure I believe him). We will have to wait and see how things pan out.

Until next time, take care of you the best way you know how. Do what you love and surround yourself with coping strategies, lots of self-care and supportive people. And if you have to manage each day one minute at a time, then so be it. At least you are still moving forward. I am proud of you!

Photo by Unsplash via Pixabay CC

Yes, you read that right. I am quitting. I am going to stop this circus of being stuck inside my head. It’s been holding me back in my writing, parenting, and interactions with others for a long time, often making me feel as though I am not good enough at anything; a dangerous place to be when suffering from depression and anxiety.

I’m prone to the perfectionism trap as a writer and creative and it has swallowed me whole. I’ve been bogged down with feeling like I have to do everything: creating a platform, managing social media, writing a blog, writing the novel I’ve been working on since 2013, and a long list of other things indie authors are in charge of. I cannot get past the mental block inside myself when I write and often feel as though I fall short, unable to tell a good story or help anyone. All of this has become a vicious cycle of wanting to help but feeling as though I’m not, so I second guess everything and dig myself back into the hole I’ve tried so hard to get out of. ​

It’s tearing me apart. Outside I refuse to be a supermom, but inside I am doing just that, feeling like I have to do everything on my own.

I’m here to say, I can’t do it on my own. And that’s okay. Because I’ve realized I am the one holding me back. The constant chatter in my head fed by depression and anxiety has clouded everything I do; I often can’t see through the thick fog hanging over me. While I am okay for a while, it’s not long before the chatter starts again, and I fall right back into that dark place, defeated and stuck before I’ve even moved. That’s no way to live.

Photo by prosperitymentr via Pixabay CC

This winter I’ve been caught in my own internal snowstorm, laden with icy comment daggers. Earlier I said I was quitting. Am I quitting writing? Absolutely not. Life without writing would be like hell. Am I quitting on myself? As much as my depression would like me to, I will not give up. But here’s what it does mean. It means that I am going to do things that make me feel worthwhile. And as I start to heal from all of this negative chatter and move forward, I will write about it and continue to write fiction stories. It’s time for me to step back get my priorities straight. I need to take care of myself or I fear I won’t be here to see what happens on the other side.

I said in another blog post, “My illness doesn’t define me.” Your illness doesn’t define you either. Stay strong. You can quit the things that make you miserable but don’t give up on yourself. The world needs you.

​This post also appears as a guest post on ConquerWorry.org

Photo by LaPorte via Pixabay

I have always been an artsy sort of person. When I was in elementary school I loved art and music class. I played the bells when I was a fifth grader (my one and only time playing in a band — ironic I married a band director). I sang in the choir throughout middle school and high school. I learned how to play the piano (my favorite instrument). I am a scrapbooker and make homemade cards. There is not one thing I do each day that doesn’t involve music or art on some level.

1. Music can help calm and soothe

I would venture to say many people have a song or type of music which calms them down. For me, it’s spa/instrumental music. For my husband, it’s obnoxious heavy metal music. I recently found an app called “Relax Melodies” (iTunes) (Android)which provides different music and sounds you can mix together to form your own unique sounds. I use these when I fly (I have horrible flying anxiety) and when I just want something soothing. You can also set the volume of each sound to your liking. My son uses this app every night when he goes to bed. Most nights I have it on to stop my mind from racing.

2. Music can motivate you

​How many times have you been browsing the music section and seen compilations of music for working out? Or know people who have a set playlist they use when working or doing homework? How about someone who listens to a certain song before they get out of bed to help them start the day? I listen to music when I’m cleaning house, driving in the car, and writing, just to name a few. And I listen to music when I’m in the middle of a depressive episode. No matter the type of music, it can help us to be productive as well as calm us down.

3. Music can pull you out of a tough spot

THIS POST ALSO APPEARS AS A GUEST POST ON CONQUERWORRY.ORG

Photo by Christy Zigweid

If you’ve spent any amount of time looking through my website, you will see I am a supporter of mental illness and advocacy. I also write fiction and blog posts that are hard to read because of their honesty. Why do I do this? Because I believe people shouldn’t have to suffer in silence. 

As I write this I am very aware of the ripple effects it may have. But I've lived in silence too long and now it’s time to share my story.

I’ve battled depression and generalized anxiety disorder for many years (I was diagnosed in high school). I have worn the mask, hiding my illness from people, afraid if I let on just a little bit I was struggling, my friends and family would suffer. I live with darkness and suicide every day. It's a battle I’ve learned to manage. I sit with myself often, enduring the self-loathing my illness projects onto me, waiting until it passes. Sometimes that’s a few hours; sometimes it's days.

And while I know this will be hard for many to read (especially my family), it is a truth of my everyday life.

In my times of utter despair, I have to remind myself what I’ll be leaving behind if I go through with it. All I have to do is picture my husband and kids and while the power to give up overwhelms me, I hold on to that ONE thing. Because it’s my family who keeps me here. It’s my closest friends who remind me how much I’ve touched their lives, or their children’s lives, just by being me. Those are the things I hold on to. Those are the things that eventually pull me out and bring me back into what’s real. ​

We’ve worked out a system and we trudge on, knowing the downs will come again, but being better prepared each time for when they hit. This is why I am a supporter of mental health advocacy, suicide awareness, and suicide prevention.

​My husband only wants to help but often doesn’t know how. My children see the effects but don’t understand why mom is “sad” or “freaked out.” It’s hard watching your family struggle and knowing you are partially the cause. It’s scary sitting with your own thoughts, part of you knowing they are lying and part of you knowing they are not. It’s hard to sort through the truth and the lies.

I am learning to know myself better as a writer and as a person. And while I’ve been denying the truth about sharing my story, I've hindered progress in taking the right steps to move forward. Some people believe we have a “calling” in life. While I do not believe we have a pre-determined path to our lives, I do believe in fate. I do believe we are all here for a reason. I was born nearly three months early and weighed two pounds two ounces. At the time of my birth, hospitals were just figuring out how to care for premature babies. I survived. ​

I can continue to take care of myself and live out this “calling” I feel compelled to do.
I also credit people who have helped me step out on this limb. My husband, my very close friends, my writing group friends, a group called “This is My Brave," and Conquer Worry. These people have opened my eyes to the fact I don’t have to live in silence anymore, pretending to be something I am not.

THIS POST ALSO APPEARS AS A GUEST POST ON CONQUERWORRY.ORG

Photo by uroburos via Pixabay

I hated going to auctions when I was little. When the auctioneer started the bids, it was like sensory overload. I could never figure out what he was saying and all I wanted to do was run out the door. My anxiety feels exactly like that. Only certain words pop out and it’s always the bad ones. “What are you going to do when — happens?”, “You need to…”, “You should have…”  Before I know it, I’m sick to my stomach, sweating, and feel like my heart is going to explode in my chest.

My mind becomes a flurry of unrelated racing thoughts that I cannot get together because they are all vying for attention at the same moment. The stronger the emotions get, the more I cannot focus.

My body is in constant fight or flight mode from the minute I wake up until the minute I go to bed. And while I can dull my mind by watching TV, reading, listening to music, or playing a game, my anxiety is waiting for me when I stop those activities. I know I’ve had an anxious day when my teeth hurt from subconsciously clenching them, or when my head hurts most of the day or all of the muscles in my shoulders feel like a board across my back. When I’m in anxiety mode, I cannot concentrate. I cannot focus. I cannot think positively. The emotions and physical reactions are so strong I want to throw up and run away. I cannot remind myself that anxiety, like depression, is a liar.

I’ve learned to recognize the signs of anxiety for myself: racing heart, teeth clenching, stomach aches, and sweaty hands. I’ve gotten so used to living with it I think there are times when I ignore it, which isn’t good. When I feel myself becoming anxious I try to get my logical mind involved, especially in cases where I am freaking out about something for an extended period of time. It’s helpful to repeat mantras like: “It’s not true.” or “That’s not happening right now, this minute.” I try hard to practice mindfulness, even though I struggle with focusing myself into the present. I sometimes call a friend or loved one and talk about what’s going on. I’ve found that if I journal about my anxiety, it loses its power and grip on me, and then I can logically think myself through it. For me, deep breathing exercises help the most as well as having a strong support system.

Some anxiety is good for you, buying a house or car, moving to a new location, or having kids, just to name a few. But it can become a problem if it’s constant. Don’t feel bad about seeking help. Statistics state anxiety affects over 40 million adults in the US ages 18 and older but only about a third of those suffering get treatment. The CDC has a great section on their website of resources that are helpful. There are also many blogs out there to help with anxiety. The top anxiety blogs of 2015 can be found HERE.

The most important thing to know is you are not alone. Anxiety is treatable. Help is out there.

Today I am featured as a guest blogger on This Is My Brave, Inc., a website dedicated to raising awareness about mental illness by sharing stories.

Photo by Jill111 via Pixabay
Photo made using @wordswagapp

We live in a culture where women (and stay-at-home dads or single dads) are conditioned to believe we should “do it all.” We should have the perfect marriage, children, job, and home. The old cliche of suburban America is still ripe within our culture. Time and time again, we see this portrayed in our own lives as well as television, movies and books. My question is why?

What women do on a daily basis to take care of their families is admirable. Regardless of whether we are stay-at-home moms or working moms, we all want one thing: what’s best for our families.

While I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for eight years, there’s one thing that makes me bristle: supermoms. Now before you get all huffy and start shouting obscenities or writing hate mail, just hear me out.

1. You stretch yourself too thin, unable to take care of yourself too

I’m a huge advocate for taking care of yourself, especially mentally. Taking care of ourselves is something as women we often neglect, regardless of whether we are married or single, with or without kids. We often think we need to sacrifice ourselves for our kids.

Selfish as it may seem, I won’t sacrifice my health or who I am as a person just to show I can do it all. Because the truth is…I don’t want to do it all. If I stretch myself so thin, what good am I as a parent and a wife?

2. You feed into competitiveness

There is fierce competitiveness between women, especially in regard to parenting. Many of the moms I’ve been around are nearly intolerable. They are rude and catty, and many are phony. They are peacocks, flashing their feathers, saying, “Look at me! See how good I can be. I have a perfect life. I have the perfect kids.” And should the truth be known, behind closed doors, it’s a very different picture.

Women gossip and compare their kids, there is no denying it. And while I’m not going to lie and say I’ve never done this, I refuse to speak those thoughts out loud and play the game. I have no desire to feed into their comments: “I’m a better home-school teacher than you.” “My kids have created cooler crafts.” “Oh, look what my special kids did today.” “My kids don’t eat that.” “My kids don’t do that.”

3. You feel obligated to over-schedule your life and your kids

There is a need in the modern American family to constantly be going and be involved. In our fast-paced lives, we rarely slow down and take the time to relax. The day starts very early in the morning and ends late at night, leaving us feeling exhausted physically and emotionally, only to get up and do it again the next day, not realizing how thin we wear ourselves down. I think it’s important to teach our kids balance between obligations, fun, and taking care of ourselves.

Sound off, give me your thoughts on this situation. I look forward to reading your comments!