I woke up smiling today. It was the first time in months I felt a grin that big. The sun was shinning, a breeze tickled my face as I stepped outside on my balcony.

It was almost like the sun and sky were smiling back at me, redeeming itself from the dark, cold, and grey months it put me through.   

It smelled like spring, hope, a new beginning, and a time for growth.  My heart felt lighter and I began crying, as I knew the worst was over. I made it through another winter.  

Depression. 

It's such a simple, three-syllable word, yet its power is confined to those who've fully experienced it. Those like me. 

It’s extremely personal, but I know writing has the ability to affect some sort of change, whether it’s small or large. I also know writing and reading others' personal stories of overcoming this mental illness has saved my life.

It's Veterans Day.

A day we honor the men and women who have served in the United States Armed Forces.

Unfortunately, this day has gotten a bit lost in our ever-growing self-serving society, where it simply means a vacation day from work or an extra 20 percent off at Macy's.

If you ask me, that's a tragedy.

Course, I'm a bit biased in this department. My mom was a nurse in the Air Force. My older sister served in the Air Force as well, and now is climbing the ranks in the Air National Guard. Her husband is retired Air Force. My younger sister served in the Army. My best friend lost her brother, a Marine, in Afghanistan.

So, yeah, I can appreciate what these individuals do... and it's why I have such a hard time understanding why our veterans aren't being taken care of in the way they should. I fail to comprehend how we bring them home from war and then -- more often than not, it seems -- leave them to their own devices to deal with what they've seen and what they've done.

The result is not acceptable.