Not untouched. Not unscarred. Not the version of you from the photo on the fridge.

But here. Reading this. You got up today, which some days takes more than people know, and you did it anyway.

Nobody hands out medals for surviving the thing you survived. There is no ceremony for the month you got through on toast and bad sleep. So have this instead: someone noticed. It counted. It was hard, and that does not make it less of an achievement. It makes it the only one that matters.