The most major disability of having severe depression (nearly 27 year, now) is how other people think of you. Weak! It’s not weak that people have an opinion/attitude – I mean that’s their opinion – that Depression is a weakness. That I am weak!
If I was weak, I would be dead. At least three times over, by last count. I’m strong. I’m a liver (not the body organ – I mean the noun as ‘to live in a place’).
A do-er! I am a sur-vi-vor! I am tenacious and willing and energetic and nurturing and robust.
Hell yes, I am ROBUST.
And I forget this. Often. But my heroes remind me. They remind me, by being themselves, by being robust.
By acting normally, they admonish my negative or uncaring self thoughts. By speaking their thoughts out aloud, they prompt me – to be me. Go back to the real me. The robust Pia.
So thank you to my Heroes. Thank you for leading me back to me.