Her strength penetrates to the bone.
I read something the other day, I can’t quote it exactly, but the idea was that a depressed person is a weak person. When I am in the depths of a depressive episode, my monster (a name I’ve given my depression) wants me to believe that I am weak, and often I do feel weak. But when I read what I read the other day, I quickly wrote this down…
even at my weakest
I am strong
for I am still here breathing.
if I had no strength
my heart would’ve stopped beating