I originally wrote this over a year ago but it never stops being true.  It may be the one thing I have written that has remained so constant.

Surviving depression is a journey.  You never quite feel like you are in complete control of who you are or where you are headed.  I used to be a backseat driver as depression bullied its way into the driver seat.  Now I am learning how to make sure I am driving. I may not be able to kick depression out of the vehicle completely but I can at least try to keep it in the trunk.

She spent years

Climbing over

Rocks and weeds

Dirt and mud

Up into thinner air

Looking for sun

It was up there

Somewhere

§

The mountain

Was steep

But her muscles

Kept her steady

She had strength

That was her gift

A survivor

She would succeed