Darling, I used to say that you were made of stardust, that galaxies and supernovas that have come before you have all collapsed and crumbled and come together to make up what you are, but now I know that all of that is not enough to describe you.
Darling, you are more than stardust, you are reforged iron, your blood is steel, men have waged war with the very strength in your veins for centuries, and it is the men with your blood that win.
Darling, do not be ashamed that our body is the battleground that shows the war waged between you and your mental illness, the scars – the trenches where vicious battles have been fought and the battle wounds they have left behind, the dark under eye circles – the remnants of rumination bombs that affect you longer than anyone can imagine.
Darling, you yourself – the fighter and victim both in this war that has been longer and harder than anyone could have ever imagined, military men and women would salute and stand at attention as you walked by if only they knew what a fighter you have been and what a fighter you still are, Odin and the Valkyries themselves would welcome you into Valhalla for this war you have fought so desperately.
Darling, you are the strongest steel in this war, you are titanium, and you do not have to fight alone.