There was a season when getting out of bed was the only thing I accomplished in a day. I felt ashamed of that, like everyone else was living and I was just existing.

My therapist asked me to write down one small thing I did each day — showered, drank water, opened the curtains. At first the list looked pathetic to me. Months later, reading it back, I could see someone who kept fighting even when everything felt grey.

If today your only win is that you're still here: that counts. It really does.