True strength

This post is serious and very heart-felt. Thank you for reading...

I lifted heavy this morning. I emptied my tank and gave it all I had. I pushed through aches and pains, the voices in my head that told me to quit much earlier, the bumps and bruises from a challenging weekend, and even the tears. By the last rep, I knew I was done. But that doesn't really matter today. What matters more is that I showed up. You see, mental illness is part of my life. Every day. Sometimes, it's quiet and I almost forget it is even there. Other days, the struggle is so hard that I don't even get out of bed. Fortunately, those days are very uncommon anymore. But it is still a piece of me.

When people see me out and about, they assume that everything is great because my body is in good physical shape. I rarely go anywhere without my happy face -- that's just part of who I am. Only those who have been friends with me for a while or those who have worked their way into my inner circle really know the battles I fight all the time. And I know there are many others who struggle as well. So, this post is really for them.

In the end, it doesn't really matter what the number is on the scale. It doesn't matter if you have huge biceps or scrawny legs. Taking care of your mental health must be your top priority. If that means you have to take time off, eliminate some of your daily activities, seek professional help, take medication or even just find a friend you can confide in, please know that there is nothing weak about admitting your need for help. You are only as sick as your secrets. Don't be afraid to bring them to the light.