Strength

Strength comes in all forms.

Being strong is not always what it seems.

It does not always look like a tough woman, conquering the world.

No…sometimes, it looks like an anxious mom, who has been up all night, pacing the floor, pleading for the panic to leave. The mom who gets up, feeds her children breakfast, and finds a way to make it through the day.

Sometimes, it looks like the woman, stuck on the bathroom floor, trapped in her own panic, begging her husband to call someone to help her.

Sometimes, it looks like the woman, sitting on her therapist’s couch, finding a way to voice her greatest fears, her greatest traumas, and her greatest shames.

The days where I am fighting the hardest? Those are the days I feel the worst.

Weak. 

Incapable.

Ashamed.

Unlovable.

Lonely.

They are the days that I fight to get out of bed. The ones where I look into the mirror at my own reflection and wonder: What is the point? 

Yet, despite feeling like there is no hope…like there is no point to anything…I journey on. I continue to fight. I continue to hope.

Those days where I am drowning?

Those are the days I am fighting my hardest.

They are the days where I have to dig DEEP and use all of my strength to keep moving forward and not give up.

To. just. keep. GOING.

I have, many times, felt hopeless. Helpless. Needy. Insecure. Panicked.

…But?? I am still here. I am still fighting. I am still growing. And trying.

Even when I can’t see it…even when I can’t say it.

…And especially when I can’t believe it:

I am strong.

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