Have you ever looked in the mirror and mourned your reflection? Have you ever experienced an inner dialogue so painfully critical and unloving that you brought yourself to tears? Have you ever wondered, in panic and fear, if you will ever reconcile with yourself? Have you ever sat in the bathtub, shower on, wishing you could wash away your sorrows and self? Have you ever lived with depression so long that life felt like a sentence, punishment for being? Have you ever longed for relief from yourself? The experience of being this person in this body with these thoughts and feelings makes every time I laugh a miracle. Everyday I am here is a rebellion against an insidious, mocking darkness that constantly threatens to engulf my entire world. There is the me you all see, and there is the me that only I know. She walks through hell and battles ferociously for my soul. One day, when I am better, I will hold that battered, brave, beautiful warrior in my arms and thank her for believing my life is worth saving. Today, she cannot end this 30 year war, and today, she will not let me surrender. Today, she battles for us, and I have an inexplicable faith that she will not lose. That look in her eyes is more than resolve and fury; it is certainty. She is fighting like hell. She will fight to life, and she will not lose.
