Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Jessica Manuszak. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.
Alright, Jessica thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Before we talk about all of your success, let’s start with a story of failure. Can you open up about a time when you’ve failed?
TW: Suicidal ideation, alcohol, prescription drugs, marijuana, eating disorders, medical procedures, and self-harm.
Crowded by nurses pumping antibiotics straight into my heart, they were hurriedly trying to talk to me before pushing the button that would send my entire body into the MRI.
The only ones I remember? “Do you need more Ativan?” “What are your religious beliefs?” “Do you want to be resuscitated?” “Are you interested in last rites — just in case?”
Just in case of what? In case I ended up hospitalized and my hypothetical religion had dietary restrictions? Partly.
But also because I was admitted via ambulance with bacterial meningitis, a paralyzed face, and a massive hole in my spinal sleeve that meant my brain fluid was freely pouring out into my body as infections seeped in.
Everything was electric purple when I closed my eyes, and I could only slur my words. My memory of the 6 months prior had nearly disappeared, and I could tell by the way everyone wore hazmat suits around me that the prognosis probably wasn’t good.
Even though they used different words, what I heard was: “You likely won’t survive the night. How should we handle things if you die?”
Maybe that was dramatic on my part, but brains do weird things when they’re sagging through the base of your skull and into your neck. I say I passed out for the night — or at least, I don’t remember it. My husband said I bolted upright at 9 pm and ate an entire Subway sandwich before yarfing it up all over my bed.
Waking up the next morning in my hospital room, my husband still snoring on the sofa under the window, a nurse bustled in, beaming.
“Everything is coming along so great,” she said. “It looks like you’re going to be okay, after all.” That last bit was hushed, like a conspiratorial secret. I instantly burst into tears, huge chest heaves and snotty nose included. She rubbed a few circles on my back and said, “I know, news like this can be so big and overwhelming. I bet you’re so relieved.”
Boy, was she wrong. I wasn’t sobbing because I was going to live. I was sobbing because I wasn’t going to die.
Somewhere inside me, in the space that’s the deepest of the deep, I felt relieved when the medical team from the night before hinted that I might not wake up. I could exit as a martyr, accidentally and quietly, and people would cry about how I was taken too soon. No one would call me a coward. No one would blame me. Just simplicity and empathy. Just no more existing.
Until that morning, I’d never realized how absolutely miserable I was in my life. Sure, I’d been depressed, but for the first time, the certainty of my suicidal ideation slapped me across the face. Hard. Heck, it wasn’t even ideation at that point. It was just plain suicide, and overnight, the meningitis became my plan.
My failure here wasn’t being depressed, or wildly dissatisfied, or suicidal. Mental health isn’t a moral failing, after all.
Rather, the failure was that I had so intentionally disassociated from my life for the last 30 years that I’d never realized how miserable I truly was.
Let’s take a tour through the darkness, shall we?
First, my self-harm started in my early teen years, taking me away from the chaos and abuse of my childhood home. At 15, I swapped one mechanism of self-destruction for another: every eating disorder under the sun. Binging, purging, and starving were my lullabies while I drifted into sleeps I didn’t want to wake up from.
After 23? Bings drinking with friends 3 – 4 times a week. I told myself that we were all doing it socially, so it wasn’t that bad, right? Yeah, right. Mid-20s were a blur of prescription benzodiazepines for my panic attacks, keeping me wrapped in a foggy cocoon of my own making. I only ever used them as prescribed, but even prescriptions can be too much, sometimes.
I sobered up for a month or two, before tricking myself into thinking that marijuana was surely the key to releasing stress and helping with my emotional regulation. It was officially legalized in my state, and so many case studies said it was a savior. In some ways, it was at first.
But isn’t it funny how self-medication can so quickly switch to self-destruction? In a matter of months, I was smoking 24/7. Never fully in my body. Willingly too stuck in my brain. This lasted for 9 years.
And throughout all of this, I was running a very successful Denver copywriting studio that somehow survived my inner rollercoasters and dissociative dependencies, serving hundreds of super happy (and very big) clients.
Looking back, I now realize my business was another addiction with a fancier suit. My business — and busy-ness — kept my brain from ever focusing on itself. Rather, I was constantly jumping from voice to voice, life to life, getting paid to perfectly mimic the existence of others. (It all meant I was stellar at nailing clients’ tones, though.)
I’m beyond proud to say my copywriting studio, Verve & Vigour, still exists today, and is strong than ever. Somehow, it survived my decades of dissociative dependencies, and the quality of my work has gotten stronger and more concise. I feel grateful for it every day. It’s even survived my long-term, debilitating spinal fluid leak.
And here’s the good news. Serendipitously, I’d gotten curious about sobriety a month before my long hospitalization, completely ditching all substances and sneaky forms of self-harm. And miraculously, I’ve stayed that way.
Over the course of the last 18 months, I’ve lived hell on earth. I’ve had major spinal surgery, over 50 needles in my spine, and 10 additional failed spinal procedures in an attempt to make me better. And still, I’ve stayed sober and present.
There was a stretch of 14 months on strict bed rest, since after a few minutes, my headaches would be unbearable and I’d run into door frames or countertops from vertigo. I laid face-up in the same room for days on end, only standing up to use the bathroom and eat something. And still, I’ve stayed sober and present.
I left my main friend group during this time, my best friends for nearly a decade, because they were so casual about being stoned all the time that I was worried I’d become casual about it again, too. It’s been the loneliest, most isolating, financially stressful, and physically painful time of my entire life.
And still, I’ve stayed sober and present.
I can say with certainty that had I been disassociated during this time, I wouldn’t have made it. I needed to be there for myself, mentally and physically, in order to make the right decisions, advocate for myself, and ask for help. For maybe the first time ever, I know myself. I know what I want, what I like, what I’ll tolerate, and what I won’t. On good days, I even sort of like myself.
But nearly every day, I know I’m strong, resilient, and healing. I know I can do this. Sobriety has made that all possible. It’s made my existence possible. No more numbing. Just the newness of being clear-headed and fully my own person.
Is my depression fixed? Some, for sure. My hunch is it’s a lifelong frenemy I’ll be working through for awhile.
Is my suicidal ideation 100% gone? Quite a bit of it. It’s really quiet and rare now, more like a scratched record with the volume down, rather than a shouty man on a megaphone who won’t ever shut up.
Is my spinal fluid leak sealed? Unfortunately not, and it may be a journey I’m on for years. I go back for another invasive procedure at the end of October 2024.
And the craziest part of all of this? I can’t wait to survive it.
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
Oh, hi! I’m the nacho cheese aficionado, mental health nonprofit founder, and copywriter who wrote those ads you’ve seen in the wild.
As the owner & shouty mastermind of Verve & Vigour Copywriting Studio in Denver, I’m the weirdo behind the best-performing blogs on Squarespace, the copy for Acuity Scheduling, global campaigns for Nike Tennis, event naming for Levi’s jeans, and political campaign speeches for elected Senators. (In other words, I don’t just talk a big game — I actually deliver. Just not pizza. That one’s on you.)
When I’m not sleeping with the lights on after watching too many shows about ghosts, you can find me running The Failure Ball, a national mental health nonprofit & annual black-tie charity gala for entrepreneurs that celebrates failure in the name of suicide prevention. Because sharing dissolves shame, and community is a balm for embarassment. (You can learn more and attend our October 12, 2024 IRL Ball in Denver at thefailureball.com)
We’d love to hear the story of how you built up your social media audience?
It felt like someone had waved a magic wand, waking up to 1,000 new followers. Another day meant another 1,000. Then 3,000. Then 4,000.
Currently, my main Instagram account (@jessmanuszak) is a welcoming community of over 16,000 people strong. My strategy? Being myself, and being consistent.
I know that’s trite advice, but it’s the truth. I was deeply depressed at the time, and started a series where I did something new to shake up my depression pattern 3 times a week. I was completely transparent, often unshowered, and uncomfortably honest.
On it’s own, the videos were steady growing my tiny audience (initially 900 people) by the thousands. Then, one of my depression reels got shared to the stories of a woman with millions of followers. That’s when I got nearly 4,000 followers overnight.
Here’s my advice.
– Don’t follow trends. They’re boiler-plate, boring, and often really surfacey.
– Say what you, yourself, need to hear.
– Showing your face seems pretty key to truly connecting with people. I can genuinely say I don’t have followers. I have community, and we all support each other.
– When you’re kind and real, people are typically kind and real back. Example: I’ve gotten 4 mean comments over the last year as my account has grown — knock on wood.
– Even when I get a few hundred comments, I respond to all of them. Allllll of them. I set aside 2 hours out of every day, often broken into chunks, and reply to everyone. Rarely it’s just emojis, but usually it’s a custom message because I care about them, back. If they can take time out of their day to brighten mine, I can do the same. (That said, when comments get into the thousands, I respond to as many as I can in the first week, and then usually stop.)
– Don’t take it too seriously. Social media is, big picture, pretty goofy and meaningless. It’s so easy to get caught up in perfection and stress about them looking professional enough. I’ve found that often, the less polished something is, the more people like it. We’re all so sick of super slick ads and regurgitated Canva templates.
– Actually have fun. If you hate making them, you won’t make them. If you don’t make them, your people can’t find you.
The algorithm changes all the time, but it’s still worth cannonballing into social media and splashing around a bit. Who knows what can come from it?
What’s worked well for you in terms of a source for new clients?
Referrals, referrals, referrals. Nowadays, anyone can talk a big game and exaggerate results. But when a company I’ve written for turns to their business bestie and says, “Jess’ work meant I sold 400% more meditation cushions at the last market,” (true story) then the bestie hires you. Then *her* bestie hires you. In other words: Consistently do really great work, and the clients will usually fall.
Eventually, it branches out, so potential new clients are trickling in on the regular.
During slow seasons, or when you’re working on building those strong referral paths, don’t be afraid to ask clients and friends who trust your work to put the word out about you. The business community is often so incredibly supportive, and all we’ve got to do is ask.
Contact Info:
- Website: www.verveandvigour.com & www.thefailureball.com
- Instagram: @jessmanuszak & @thefailureball
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AcissejKazsunam/
