Posted on Leave a comment

The Day You Stop Fighting

“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”


Those words have been in my mind for years now—sometimes bounding their way around in an endless, repetitious reminder; other times, sluggishly processing, reminding me that, no matter what, I cannot stop fighting.


“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”


Those words are a direct quote from my father. My bipolar and anxiety disorders come from my mother, and I heard my dad repeat these words for years.


And then I was diagnosed in my early twenties. Four brain surgeries seemed to be the trigger. At first, I refused to admit there was anything wrong. I so desperately didn’t want to be like the mother I’d grown up with. Not because my mom isn’t fantastic, but because my young adult brain recalled all the bad times—all the broken promises of  trips and outings because my mom would get depressed, all the times we left a venue because my mom’s anxiety couldn’t take it, all the times my grandmother had to take us because my mom was too overwhelmed.


And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of it.


But I knew.


I finally made it to a psychiatrist. I was finally diagnosed: Bipolar II, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia, and more. I finally allowed myself to be put on medication.


And then began the tiring process of finding the right medicinal cocktail, seeing my psychiatrist every few weeks, having therapy recommended. And realizing that I wasn’t going to be just like my mother…in fact, my psychiatrist informed us all that I was far worse off.


And those words my dad had used many times when discussing with me one of my mother’s episodes came back: “The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”


“But I’m so tired, Daddy. I’m tired of feeling this way, of always being way up or way down, never having a normal.”


“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”


“But, Daddy, I hate being this depressed. What if my husband leaves because I can’t even be a good housewife? I don’t know how I’m supposed to get off that couch and do anything.”


“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”


“But, Daddy, I don’t want to kill myself, but some days I wish God would just do it for me.”


“The day you stop fighting is the day you lose.”


Of course, my dad said more than that, but that was a phrase he never left out.


Some days? You won’t be able to do it. The depression will suck you so far down that you can’t even think, let alone move and complete tasks.


But most days? Most days, you can fight it, even if just a little bit. Even if you just load the dishwasher. Even if you just brush your teeth and put on deodorant. Even if you just get dressed. Even if…


Because the day you stop fighting is the day you lose.



Alyssa is an author trying to break into the field, but willing to go where God wants her to with her writing. She writes Young Adult Christian novels in an effort to bring the truth back into the lives of young people in which it is often so severely lacking.

She has overcome 13 brain surgeries, 4 spinal cord surgeries, and countless others since 2009 alone, and battles two organic brain issues, a traumatic brain injury (TBI), Bipolar II, two different anxiety disorders, and more mental illnesses. Her goal is to reach others with the Gospel and what God’s taught her through her ailments.

Alyssa lives in Central Florida with her husband, part-time daughter (a blessing that came with marriage!), and three fur babies.

Check out Alyssa’s blog:

And check out her author Facebook page:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *