I can completely relate to those diseased, possessed, and bleeding in the Gospel of Mark. I may not have had literal leprosy, but I carried the spiritual equivalent — trauma, guilt, shame, and self‑loathing from childhood sexual wounds. I wasn’t physically paralyzed on a mat, but I lived with depression, burnout, and chronic fatigue that made every day feel like dragging a lifeless body through thick mud. I wasn’t possessed by a legion of demons, but I knew what it felt like to be fragmented inside, pulled in many directions by fear, addiction, confusion, and despair.