Have you ever been in the shower, and you stick your head underneath the faucet, and you have a brief moment where you feel like you can't breathe? Have you ever laid in bed at night trying to go to sleep but not being able to move for little to no reason at all? Have you ever been in a crowded area and all of a sudden you feel completely and utterly alone?

Welcome to the island of misfit toys. Where anxiety tries to cope with reality, and depression tries to normalize itself. A place where broken people congregate to feel something. Anything.

A lot of people have their stereotypes and stigmas about people with "hidden disabilites," when really, they aren't disabilities at all. Some of the most broken people have the most beautiful souls.

They try to see the world through rose colored glasses, and they try to make the world brighter than it is, even though the darkness is louder than it ever has been. I've seen people who are struggling give so much, and never ask for anything in return. I've seen some of the most tragic life stories become a beautiful love story.

This is because people who are broken don't always expect to be healed. And tragedy does not always have to be the end of your story. There is a way to be scarred but become stronger through your scars: love.

Ah, love. The mushy gushy nasty stuff that people pretend to despise. Why? Maybe because they don't believe they deserve it. Maybe because they don't feel like they have it. Or maybe because they really are just pretending. Anyways, this may come as a shock (!) to some of you, but love isn't actually all mushy gushy nasty stuff. Love is difficult. Love is confronting your friend when you notice she's wearing long sleeves in the summer. Love is making your friend eat after three days of not eating. Love is picking up the phone at 3 am when he's on the floor having a panic attack and doesn't know how to make the thoughts stop. Love is not always cute. Or goals.

Don't let your sob story stay a tragedy. Don't be the victim in a show meant for a hero. Broken people are too often the ones seen helping but never being helped. Perhaps thats why they're so broken. But whatever you do, make sure that you help and love and support the people who help and love and support you, even if that means sacrificing your time.

Our wounds run deeper than we know, and before we can even see it coming, our scars will be cut open and raw for everyone to see again. But remember that you are loved, you are wonderful, and there's a God above who is patient and willing to completely heal those scars. No scabs, no nasty bumps. Just faded marks to remember to never go back.