They thought she was fine—she smiled at church, showed up for work, attended functions for which invitations were extended with such grace and poise, reaching out to loved ones and checking up if all was well. But all wasn't well with her.
Amber was a successful businesswoman in her mid-40s, but she wasn't blessed with the gift of true love. In fact, she had begun to stop believing there was a love made for her.
For every bridal shower she attended, or wedding she graced, she went to war afterward.
She went to war, though not with guns or grenades. She would return sober and silent. The sound of dancing, cheers, and congratulations shared, only made the quiet loneliness of her empty house and cold bed shriek louder.
She wanted to scream out her longing, perhaps... but even if she did, no one would hear.
She wore armor made of grace, stitched together with exhaustion and held up by pure will. But even that was coming apart, little by little. She was at war!
Depression didn't knock politely; it snuck in and made itself at home. Self-doubt screamed louder than affirmation ever could, and her mind was a minefield.
She was handed a pamphlet to see a therapist. Oh yes! She knew she needed help. She couldn't lose this battle—a battle for her sanity, for self-love and self-esteem. She knew she was worthy and worth more, but she needed to believe again.
And yes—she rose! For herself. For the little girl inside her who once dreamed big. She read books, attended her sessions. Prayed through clenched teeth. Took long walks instead of screaming. She told herself: "This isn't the end. THIS IS WAR! But I will win."
And win she did! She bounced back, gained confidence, learned to love herself, and not tie her worth to the achievements of her peers, even if it was the love of a partner she so desired.
She'd smack on her lipstick, strap on some heels, let her curls bounce free, with her head held high...
She may never get a medal, but she survived.
And that...
That is victory.
