The Darkness I Walked Through
Abuse leaves marks that medicine cannot always see. For years, I carried wounds that no doctor could diagnose — wounds of the spirit, the soul, the self-worth. I was told I was too sensitive. Too broken. Too much.
The physical diagnoses came later, one after another, like a storm that wouldn't stop. Fibromyalgia. Rheumatoid Arthritis. Osteoarthritis. Diabetes. A heart condition that required constant monitoring. My body became a battlefield.
I spent years searching for relief — in doctors' offices, in prescriptions, in treatments that helped some days and failed on others. I was grateful for medicine. But I knew there was something more.