To me, my scars are a symbol of incredible resiliency. Although they will forever be a part of me, and although that time of my life will forever be etched in my mind, many other happy things will permanently be there as well. For instance, the day that I decided to get help. That day was not beautiful or full of the awe-inspiring moments that usually make a day count as memorable. For me though, that day will forever be the day I am most proud of. The day that I will always look back at with a sense of happiness. Because that was the day my life turned around for the better. I spent a month in out-patient treatment and, along with learning to love myself for who I really am, I met some incredible people that changed the way I view the world. The way I view people like me who struggle with their mental health.

Before treatment, I was a mess. I had stopped eating and I was cutting almost daily. I was in a constant state of depression. My mind was clouded by an abyss of dark grey and muddy blue, by waves that relentlessly pulled me lower. I hated everything about myself, and most days I wondered why I was even here. I pushed away all my friends. I completely shut out my boyfriend. My family had no idea just how badly I was suffering. And that's exactly how I wanted it. I didn't want anyone to know what I was feeling. Because back at that time I believed all the horrendous things I heard about those who suffered. I believed that I needed to hide it because no one would understand such a messed up soul, and worse, that no one could love such a screwed up person. I truly believed that due to my inner struggle, I was worthless.

Thanks to treatment, I was able to see just how much my depression was affecting me. I was able to look at my scars and see something that I was overcoming and not something that was demanding control of every aspect of my life. I learned new ways to cope with my feelings, and I learned that those who cared about me had nothing but love for me regardless of what I was going through. I will never be able to thank them enough for the support they gave me and for the support that they continue to offer. I learned that people like me who struggle are not messed up and are so far from worthless. We give the world such an amazing opportunity to learn about something most have no idea of. We are living proof that those who are struggling are not alone, and that overcoming this disorder is possible.

My scars are many things to me. Mostly, they are a reminder of where I have been, of what I was strong enough to overcome. They are a reminder that today is a new day and one that is fresh and free of the stains those scars left on me. Maybe because I'm calling them stains you think I dislike them, and some days that would be correct. Most days, however, you would be wrong.