It’s hard. All of it. The living, breathing, existing. Depression got the best of me for most of my teenage and adult life. Along the way, I lost friends, jobs, and myself. Depression is a thief, it steals time and your identity. I am still fighting to find the woman I once was. I took out my sadness and pain on my body; starving myself to gain control. An oxymoron, isn’t it? When you are so lost, you do anything to create purpose.