How I Lost My Mind After Stealing What Was Not Mine.
My name is Ruth, and I never believed that one careless decision could nearly destroy my sanity. I worked as a house help in Nakuru, earning just enough to survive. Every day I watched my employer live comfortably — beautiful clothes, expensive perfume, and stacks of cash casually placed inside drawers. Temptation slowly grew inside me like a whisper that refused to go away.
One afternoon, when nobody was home, I opened the drawer and took KSh 50,000. My hands were shaking, but I convinced myself I deserved it after years of struggling. I hid the money and acted normal.
But three days later, something changed inside me. I couldn’t sleep. I began hearing strange voices calling my name at night. I would wake up screaming. My thoughts became confused. One evening, I ran out of the house barefoot, shouting that invisible people were chasing me.
My family said I had gone mad.
In desperation, they took me to a doctor known for helping people facing deep emotional and spiritual crises. During the sessions, I was guided to confront my guilt. The weight of what I had done was crushing my mind. I confessed. I returned the money through my family. Gradually, the nightmares stopped. My thoughts became clear again.
Today, I live honestly, even if life is hard. I learned that stolen money carries a heavy burden.
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