What was emerging now was different than anything I had experienced prior.
I had just gotten support from relationships I had built over the past year at the Quaker meeting-for-worship.
Maybe my situation at work had been getting whispered about among my friends. Maybe my spirit was exuding a sense of desperation. Either way, I’d felt safer under the spell of the service, the last bit of community support I would experience for years.
Continue reading “I Wash My Hands in the Muddy Waters of the Mental Health System”
