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I was eating well again; three meals a day. The food

was very good. I even put on some weight. After released, my
parents drove me to Shelly’s house where I was to live. Nicole
stayed there, too, at times. My parents had done all the
moving for me while I was hospitalized. Also, my boss was
happy to see me. I took my medication for a few weeks, but it

made me feel rigid and weird, and it was impossible for me
to comfortably work. Since I was only hearing, “I love you so
much” and still feeling sensations, I figured it was safe for me
to stop taking the medicine. This was in January of 2007.

Aside from hearing “I love you so much,” and still
feeling sensations, not much else happened other than me

hitting an intense depression falsely believing that Jesus
Christ didn’t want to save me. I had pulled away from faith in
Him. I felt like God had forsaken me because He didn’t
answer my prayers the way I wanted. I knew that turning my

back from God was making me more depressed. I also knew
that Hell is absent of God; absent of spiritual life. Every day
I wished to be dead the moment I opened my eyes. It took
every ounce of strength I had to get up out of bed and walk to
the bathroom to brush my teeth or take a shower. Simple

tasks required all my willpower and strength. I felt as though
I were moving in thick mud that was fighting against me
living. I was ridden with severe anxiety and uncomfortable in
my own skin for hours at times. There was no peace. I had no

social life. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. All I wanted to do

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