📖 Sacred Testimony LXII

“The Times I Fell Off the Edge”
and the hands that brought me back

I didn’t like taking my meds.
Not because I wanted to be sick—
but because I didn’t want to feel numb.
I didn’t want the fog.
I didn’t want the silence
in places where my mind used to sing.

So I’d stop.

And I’d fall.

And the hospitals would open their doors again.

In 2002, something inside of me shifted.
Not gently.
Not quietly.
It felt like danger.

Like I had been exposed to something—
biochemicals, I thought.
Something unseen but strong.
And I was convinced it was real.

I told my sister.
I told my mom.
And they did what they knew to do:
they took me to the psych hospital.

Again.

And even though part of me resisted,
part of me knew—
this too was part of the journey.
Not failure.
Not defeat.

Just another turning point
in a story too layered for simple answers.

🌿 And now I see:

Healing doesn’t always happen in a straight line.
Sometimes it loops.
Sometimes it dips.
Sometimes it breaks open
just to show you where the light can finally enter.