IF DEPRESSION WINS

It’s sad we live in a world
where Depression is treated as “nothing major.”
Where you still wake up,
drag yourself through tasks and responsibilities,
because survival doesn’t wait.

You can’t even be approved for “Depression alone.”
They tell you it must be tied to something else—
another illness, another failure of the body—
before they call it disabling.
But I know what it is.
I live it.

Depression. Anxiety.
Layered on me since the age of two,
traumas stacking until my life feels
like a tragic comedy,
a horror-psychological thriller
no one would believe if they read it as fiction.

So much brokenness has scarred me
that some mornings I’m shocked
I still open my eyes.
Twenty-nine years of wondering:
why am I here?

Of course—I’m a mommy.
Five beautiful children, my only sunrises.
They are my sunshine.
But sometimes even that light
isn’t enough to fight the derecho of my mind.

I don’t want to ruin them
with the cracks in me.
Some days I push family away on purpose—
so maybe they’ll leave me alone,
maybe stop loving me.
But they always come back.
They love me but not as much as I love them.

And if I ever left—
if I ended it—
their pain would be greater than mine.
So I stay.
With the loud mind,
the aching body,
the tired spirit,
I whisper to myself:
keep going. It’s okay. Keep going.

I’ve learned:
the light isn’t waiting at the end of the tunnel.
You are the light.
But the question is—
how long is this tunnel?
How much can one person take
before the suffering wins?

When does grief stop haunting?
When do I reunite with the child I lost?
When will my heart stop racing
every time I sense disaster is near?
Why am I the villain
in everyone else’s story?
Why am I the punching bag?

So many whys.
Never an answer.
I searched everywhere—
books, churches, therapy,
medications, prayers,
anything humanly possible.
But maybe the answer isn’t here,
maybe it’s otherworldly.

So if Depression wins—
because she’s been fighting dirty
since the moment I left my mother’s womb—
let my family know this:

I fought.
I fought hard.
I fought long.
For them.
For myself.
For the hope of changing someone else’s story.

And if she wins,
don’t give her a medal,
don’t honor her.
She doesn’t deserve it.
She cheated from the start,
stacking the deck against me.

Ayanna Edwards is a published author who explores various genres, including dark fiction, nonfiction, short stories, and novels. As a devoted mother, she balances her passion for storytelling with her family life. With a love for crafting compelling narratives, Ayanna continues to push the boundaries of her creativity.