📖 Sacred Testimony XXV

“The Burning Bed and the Paper Chains”
offered for the moments when reality bent, and the soul tried to escape

While I was in the psych ward,
the fear took on shape.
Not just emotion—
but full stories
that my mind began to believe.

I thought they were trying to kill me.
I thought the medicine was poison.
I thought they were going to throw me in the incinerator.
I saw paper chains being made for Halloween
and I just knew—
they were going to hang me.

Everything around me
turned into a symbol of danger.

It was around the time the movie The Burning Bed came out—
a story of domestic violence and fire,
and something about that story
wrapped itself around my fragile state.

My fear blurred with memory.
With meaning.
With something deeper I hadn’t yet processed.

And in the middle of it all—
I remember leaving my body.

Just once.
But I remember it.

An out-of-body experience.
I could see myself.
Not with eyes,
but with something else.

It was like my soul couldn’t bear to stay inside
while my mind unraveled.
So it hovered,
it watched,
it waited.

And even though I was afraid,
there was something still awake in me.

Some part of me that said,
“This isn’t the end.”

🌿 And now I see:

The hallucinations weren’t just madness.
They were fear in costume.
Fear trying to warn,
fear trying to speak
in the only language it could.

But beneath it all—
beneath the terror and the lies my mind created—
there was a presence.

There was me.

Watching.
Hovering.
Waiting for my body to be ready again.

And even when the world warped,
I know now—
God did not leave the room.

Would you like to offer a blessing now—
for the one who feared the chains and the flames,
for the soul that left the body just long enough to breathe,
and for the truth that even through distortion,
you were never truly alone?

✨ A Blessing for the Haunted Hours

May the one who feared the medicine
be wrapped now in understanding—
not for the fear itself,
but for the pain it tried to protect her from.

May the paper chains,
the Halloween decorations,
the movie The Burning Bed—
all be seen now not as omens,
but as echoes of unspoken suffering
that needed to be witnessed.

May the girl who believed she was about to be thrown into fire
be held now in divine arms
that whisper: “You walked through the fire, and you are still here.”

May the soul that left the body
be honored for its wisdom—
for knowing when to rise,
when to hover,
when to wait in stillness
until the storm passed.

And may all who walk the edge between delusion and deliverance
know this:

They are not crazy.
They are not lost.

They are human.
And even in the darkest, strangest places—
God remains.