Hi. So I am very new to Christianity, and still learning the ropes, so please bear with me.
Mods: my story is pretty heavy, it is about liberation from possession. I will censor as much as I can, but if anything is not okay, please let me know.
mature audiences I think. PG-13
uh so. I’m sorry for awkwardness. I have told my testimony, and initially was very enthusiastic, but as the trials come, the enthusiasm has slowly been fading.
i grew up in a emotionally and physically abusive household. I will not go into detail, as I presume that like most forums, this thread is available to all audiences etc etc
i was bullied in school. I attended a Catholic school. My father would abuse me, and then yell at me and belittle me for “talking back” which was more of asking what I did wrong, with the 4th commandment (I think it’s the 4th. Honor thy father and mother) however he did not respect my mother either, and abused her too. At school I was constantly picked on and beat up, and I only recall one teacher really showing me kindness, but it felt more like pity. The pastors at the time would harass me about a rumor about me being homosexual, even though I was around 7 years old and had never even heard of the term until the bullying, nor did I know what it meant.
one day, out of desperation, I denounced Christ, and made a plea to anything that would listen, offering anything. That’s when I first heard them. I was 7 years old. At this time, my father was abusing me physically. He had this thing where he would threaten to come back if I didn’t stop crying. The first thing the voices said was “keep quiet, he is coming”
I was only silent out of shock. The voices were so clear. I remember looking around trying to find who said it. And because I was distracted, I was silent. My father came back and said he would stop because I was quiet.
the voices at first were very motherly. Though had no specific gender. It’s really hard to describe them. They were chaotic, but synchronized. However as I never was able to trust anyone, I didn’t trust them at first either. It was not until I was 11 that they asked me if I would let them stay forever. And by that time, I trusted them. As for the past like 4 years, they were my best and only friends. And always told me hints that would happen before they happened, so I would avoid bad situations. When I agreed, they slowly transitioned over the course of a few weeks from that motherly time, into this very terrifying and oppressive tone. They would remind me of all the things people had done, and the fears I had confided in them for so long which they supposedly “protected” me from. Around this time is when I started self injury. Shortly after, my first Suicide attempt. This was at 11. God was watching though, as I did not tell anyone of my overdose. I became very ill, but told my mother it was he stomach flu. At the time I thought it was a curse that I didn’t die. Now I realize it was God not giving up on me.
then I entered high school. And people were so kind to me. I went to a public high school, but still people were very nice unlike in middle and grammar school. The voices convinced me that they were all going to betray me, and that none of them were truly my friends. I ended up in a psychiatric facility for going too far with self injury. It needed immediate medical attention. My father wanted to lie, but God was working in my mother, and granted her the courage to tell my father “No. she will get treatment. No more”.
through out high school I was in and out of hospitals. I almost had to repeat my freshman year, as I missed a total of 3 months of school. However my grades were excellent, so they passed me.
During my freshman year, I was sexually assaulted (using that term just in case of rules and such) by someone I thought I trusted. He was much older than me, but I thought of him as an older brother. Because of what he had said to me, which again, don’t want to repeat, I instantly lost all remaining self value, and started to become very promiscuous. i was 14.
during one of the hospitalizations, I don’t remember this, but apparently I told my therapist that the voices said there was a place I could go to where I would never feel this worldly pain again. But I could only go by hurting myself. Then a few weeks later, I told him that the voices said I could stay forever if I took my life.
i do not remember this, but it is in my medical records.
through out high school, I became more and more isolated and secluded. I would go straight home and lock myself in my room. Though I was attempting Suicide, I found enjoyment in cyber bullying on very dark parts of the internet. I worked every day and studied religion, just to have ammunition against it. I was a very, very cruel person. I do not wish to remind myself of the cruel things I have done, or the evil things I have thought, or the curses I have spoken. I also was very obsessed with demon magic, as well as warlocks and such. Though I had never tried it because if there was one thing I feared out of respect, it was the wrath of an angry mom (haha. Still do. But it’s not fear as much as wanting to just make her smile and be happy now)
after graduation is when things kind of got weird, I started becoming very physically ill. Saw several doctors but none would listen. The only one who did though, was the only one who mentioned God. I saw him in August of 2017. As protocol, when seeing a new doctor, they ask for medical history. I told them he usual, PTSD, Borderline Personality Disorder, EDNOS, Eye Surgery, the works. He didn’t say anything until I said “schizophrenia”
he started asking about it, so I told him. He then said something I would have NEVER expected a medical professional to say, he sai “Have you ever considered seeking Christ?” I politely answered that I didn’t want to, because I always looked up to doctors as pioneers of science, but in my head the voices were cursing him and mocking him. I would have too had I not respected his MD.
that doctor, though, was the only doctor to actually do testing. The only one to listen to my cries of paIn, and the same doctor who would later discover 5 polyps: 2 in my duodenum, and 3 in my colon. And would tell me that the 3 in the colon, were cancerous. However that was yet to come
i also want to apologize for the messiness of this timeline. It’s my first time telling my testimony fully.
in 2015, I met a man who I had no idea would be what he is today. My fiancé. He was the first friend to always be there, no matter how much I pushed him away. It was kind of annoying at first, but he was the only one who believed I wasn’t schizophrenic. He was an atheist at the time too?”, and currently is agnostic, but I know God has plans for him, as I know that God can do and will do His will. At this time though, I was incredibly sexually immoral. Because I felt a void in my heart, a void that hungered for something, but I could not figure out what. The voids hunger was always temporarily satiated with human love, which because of my experience at 14, I was confusing with lust. My fiancé, let’s call him Minh, was always trying to talk me into respecting my body, and such. But I thought he was dumb and didn’t understand. One day, I wasn’t in a train, and came a cross a man who would “make me famous” at the cost of my dignity. He gave me his card and went off. I was so done with life at this point, that I was going goin to do it. Make the money, give it to my mom, then die. That was what I had decided on. But God always finds a way to stop you. This was January 2016, by 20th birthday was in a month. And I confused in Minh, who lived 500 miles away, that I was sad that I would be spending it alone. One day he called and said he was at the airport and would be in my city in 2 hours and to pick him up. I was like ?!?!????
By now, my father had gone through therapy and overcame his abuse. He worked very hard to change. I still hated him, and would not forgive him though, but used him when I needed something. So I told him I needed him to drive me to the airport and just to essentially be a security guard. Minh met my father, and we went to a museum. Everything was great. My dad left, and I took Minh to his Hotel so he could put away his luggage.
I don’t really want to type here my in depth thought process, but I honestly thought that Minh only came for one thing, and not because he was a friend. I tried to seduce him, and without knowing anything of my story, he said “no. Stop that. You are worth so much more than that”
i broke down crying. And went home.
when I got home, I really started thinking. In the end, I tore up the card the man gave me, and texted Minh to be ready in the morning to go out and have fun.
It was a wonderful time. First time I genuinely had fun in a very long time. We went ice skating, went to little Winter festivities. And decided that it would be official.
the next year and a half, God worked through Minh, but also through me. My last Suicide attempt was October 29th 2016. I had taken too many pills. And doctors told my parents that they brought me too late, and there wasn’t anything they could do. They told my mom that if my heart stopped, they would try to resuscitate me, but it was up to God now.
i was in and out of consciousness for what seemed for eternity. When I was the most conscious, I looked at the heart monitor. It was 38 bpm. And that’s all I remember. I woke up 3 days later in ICU, and then was taken to a psychiatric unit. I remember I was so angry. I was such a failure that I couldn’t even kill my self successfully.
after being discharged from the hospital in December, Minh told me that if I did it again, he would be so broken and he didn’t think he could go on living I was gone. The months passed, and as they passed, the voices became more and more ruthless. They even convinced me Minh was trying to hurt me.
then out of no where, I had a thought: maybe this isn’t a mental illness. Maybe this is spiritual. I have been on every antipsychotic in the book, none got rid of the voices. It only impaired my ability to react.
I decided to call a family member who is a very Devout Christian, someone I had been avoiding for years because being around her was nauseating. And I told her “I think this might be demonic”
and she said “honey, I knew it was demonic from the moment I saw you the first time in the hospital”
she paid for a flight for the upcoming Saturday (which was in 3 days) and said she knew exactly the person I needed to see.
she warned me though that I would have second thoughts, and that they would try to convince me to not go.and do whatever it took to keep me from going. I didn’t believe her.
But as the 3 days passed, it got harder and harder. I became ill, my family tried to talk me out of it, I had more suicidal urges than ever,
even when I was on the plane, there was a random unexpected delay for 2 hours because there was a dent in the wing and for some reason the airport records were not accessible, so they had to call out an engineer to check it.
but I got there.
The exorcsm took 3 days total. Started Wednesday, then was finished Friday and Saturday.
on Wednesday, I spoke with the exorcist. And it was nothing like the movies. We just talked. And I threw up so much.
what was weird though was I never had a problem entering churches. I could even touch the Bible or the cross. I felt uncomfortable saying Jesus’s name, but as long as I solely kept it just words and attached no meaning, it wasn’t a big deal. Just uncomfortable.
howveer is this time was different. I could not physically say the name Jesus Christ without throwing up foam. I told the exorcist it felt like there were snakes in my intestines. There was a period that I actually don’t remember. All I remember was hype exorcist calling my name. Then, I was told to go home and rest. I slept that next night and day, didn’t eat, didn’t even use the bathroom. My body felt like it just couldn’t move, so I slept. On Friday, my aunt took me to church. Going into the church was horrible. Whenever I looked at it, my head throbbed. And I had a weird taste in my mouth. It tasted like a bad piece of meat. But no matter how much gym I chewed, the taste wouldn’t go away. During the service, they asked us to raise or hands if we wanted a priest or someone to come pray over us. And though I tried to raise my hand, it felt like every time I tried, something would push it down. My aunt noticed and helped me raise it. But as soon as they laid their hands on me, the clergy, I threw up. It felt strange, where they were touching me. I cannot describe the pain, but it was very weird, and I squirmed and just wanted it to be done with.
then I went home, and slept.
saturday was the final day. Though I didn’t know.
basically on this day we talked about sin, and at some point, I must have like, blacked out or something . Because all of a sudden I was not like, there anymore. I mean I didn’t move, but it felt like my memories were being played all around me like a movie. And the voices were shouting “do you think an all knowing god would let this happen? And if he is so good and pure, do you think He would want to be associated with you?!” I started crying hysterically, and that’s when it began. So the exorcist talked me through the whole thing. First, she made me ask God to forgive me for all those I hurt, and though it was hard, I did. Then she had be forgive people by name. And I did, but it was so hard. I was scratching myself (but I guess my aunt knew this would happen because when I arrived she took me to get a manicure and we went with gel nails, so it was very soft and I could not scratch) I was ripping my hair, throwing up. And it got worse the further down the list I got. I forgave the man who violated me, and then, I forgave my father. The exorcist touched my arms (where majority of my scars are) and started saying stuff but the voices were too loud for me to hear. I was shaking violently, and the last thing I remember was saying “I’m sorry, the voices want me to kill you “ and the exorcist said something along the lines of that she wasn’t afraid because Christ Jesus was her savior and protector.
and it all went black after that. I don’t remember anything.
when I finally came to awareness, I can’t even to begin to describe what happened. There is no word to describe the beauty, and happiness I felt. Everything was silent. But a tranquil silence, not a lonely silence. I felt no pain, my mind was silent. Everything was over. I felt like I was in the presence of something. I could not see it or hear it, but I felt it. It was warm and comforting, loving, forgiving, I don’t even have the words. Truly perfect. And at that moment, I felt safe. And though that faded, I never forget it. And that’s what motivates me to keep going. Because if Heaven and God is even a fraction of that (which I know is not even close to true. I know that when I finally meet Him,that moment will be nothing in comparison) I want to be a part of it.
over the next week, I found a new sense of purpose. To help those who are lost like me, and to let them know that yes, there is a way out of the suffering. And it’s not Suicide. It’s Christ.
i also realied that there is really only one thing I hate, and that’s Satan. Honestly. Everyday I encounter someone who’s life has been impacted by him. And it makes me so angry. I genuinely hate Satan with every fiber of my being. And I want to fight to make sure not another soul gets pulled from Christ, and taken by Satan.
and yeah. That’s my story.
again, I’m sorry if it’s not like, appropriately worded :/ I’m still learning every day what it’s like to be a Christian.
Mods: my story is pretty heavy, it is about liberation from possession. I will censor as much as I can, but if anything is not okay, please let me know.
mature audiences I think. PG-13
uh so. I’m sorry for awkwardness. I have told my testimony, and initially was very enthusiastic, but as the trials come, the enthusiasm has slowly been fading.
i grew up in a emotionally and physically abusive household. I will not go into detail, as I presume that like most forums, this thread is available to all audiences etc etc
i was bullied in school. I attended a Catholic school. My father would abuse me, and then yell at me and belittle me for “talking back” which was more of asking what I did wrong, with the 4th commandment (I think it’s the 4th. Honor thy father and mother) however he did not respect my mother either, and abused her too. At school I was constantly picked on and beat up, and I only recall one teacher really showing me kindness, but it felt more like pity. The pastors at the time would harass me about a rumor about me being homosexual, even though I was around 7 years old and had never even heard of the term until the bullying, nor did I know what it meant.
one day, out of desperation, I denounced Christ, and made a plea to anything that would listen, offering anything. That’s when I first heard them. I was 7 years old. At this time, my father was abusing me physically. He had this thing where he would threaten to come back if I didn’t stop crying. The first thing the voices said was “keep quiet, he is coming”
I was only silent out of shock. The voices were so clear. I remember looking around trying to find who said it. And because I was distracted, I was silent. My father came back and said he would stop because I was quiet.
the voices at first were very motherly. Though had no specific gender. It’s really hard to describe them. They were chaotic, but synchronized. However as I never was able to trust anyone, I didn’t trust them at first either. It was not until I was 11 that they asked me if I would let them stay forever. And by that time, I trusted them. As for the past like 4 years, they were my best and only friends. And always told me hints that would happen before they happened, so I would avoid bad situations. When I agreed, they slowly transitioned over the course of a few weeks from that motherly time, into this very terrifying and oppressive tone. They would remind me of all the things people had done, and the fears I had confided in them for so long which they supposedly “protected” me from. Around this time is when I started self injury. Shortly after, my first Suicide attempt. This was at 11. God was watching though, as I did not tell anyone of my overdose. I became very ill, but told my mother it was he stomach flu. At the time I thought it was a curse that I didn’t die. Now I realize it was God not giving up on me.
then I entered high school. And people were so kind to me. I went to a public high school, but still people were very nice unlike in middle and grammar school. The voices convinced me that they were all going to betray me, and that none of them were truly my friends. I ended up in a psychiatric facility for going too far with self injury. It needed immediate medical attention. My father wanted to lie, but God was working in my mother, and granted her the courage to tell my father “No. she will get treatment. No more”.
through out high school I was in and out of hospitals. I almost had to repeat my freshman year, as I missed a total of 3 months of school. However my grades were excellent, so they passed me.
During my freshman year, I was sexually assaulted (using that term just in case of rules and such) by someone I thought I trusted. He was much older than me, but I thought of him as an older brother. Because of what he had said to me, which again, don’t want to repeat, I instantly lost all remaining self value, and started to become very promiscuous. i was 14.
during one of the hospitalizations, I don’t remember this, but apparently I told my therapist that the voices said there was a place I could go to where I would never feel this worldly pain again. But I could only go by hurting myself. Then a few weeks later, I told him that the voices said I could stay forever if I took my life.
i do not remember this, but it is in my medical records.
through out high school, I became more and more isolated and secluded. I would go straight home and lock myself in my room. Though I was attempting Suicide, I found enjoyment in cyber bullying on very dark parts of the internet. I worked every day and studied religion, just to have ammunition against it. I was a very, very cruel person. I do not wish to remind myself of the cruel things I have done, or the evil things I have thought, or the curses I have spoken. I also was very obsessed with demon magic, as well as warlocks and such. Though I had never tried it because if there was one thing I feared out of respect, it was the wrath of an angry mom (haha. Still do. But it’s not fear as much as wanting to just make her smile and be happy now)
after graduation is when things kind of got weird, I started becoming very physically ill. Saw several doctors but none would listen. The only one who did though, was the only one who mentioned God. I saw him in August of 2017. As protocol, when seeing a new doctor, they ask for medical history. I told them he usual, PTSD, Borderline Personality Disorder, EDNOS, Eye Surgery, the works. He didn’t say anything until I said “schizophrenia”
he started asking about it, so I told him. He then said something I would have NEVER expected a medical professional to say, he sai “Have you ever considered seeking Christ?” I politely answered that I didn’t want to, because I always looked up to doctors as pioneers of science, but in my head the voices were cursing him and mocking him. I would have too had I not respected his MD.
that doctor, though, was the only doctor to actually do testing. The only one to listen to my cries of paIn, and the same doctor who would later discover 5 polyps: 2 in my duodenum, and 3 in my colon. And would tell me that the 3 in the colon, were cancerous. However that was yet to come
i also want to apologize for the messiness of this timeline. It’s my first time telling my testimony fully.
in 2015, I met a man who I had no idea would be what he is today. My fiancé. He was the first friend to always be there, no matter how much I pushed him away. It was kind of annoying at first, but he was the only one who believed I wasn’t schizophrenic. He was an atheist at the time too?”, and currently is agnostic, but I know God has plans for him, as I know that God can do and will do His will. At this time though, I was incredibly sexually immoral. Because I felt a void in my heart, a void that hungered for something, but I could not figure out what. The voids hunger was always temporarily satiated with human love, which because of my experience at 14, I was confusing with lust. My fiancé, let’s call him Minh, was always trying to talk me into respecting my body, and such. But I thought he was dumb and didn’t understand. One day, I wasn’t in a train, and came a cross a man who would “make me famous” at the cost of my dignity. He gave me his card and went off. I was so done with life at this point, that I was going goin to do it. Make the money, give it to my mom, then die. That was what I had decided on. But God always finds a way to stop you. This was January 2016, by 20th birthday was in a month. And I confused in Minh, who lived 500 miles away, that I was sad that I would be spending it alone. One day he called and said he was at the airport and would be in my city in 2 hours and to pick him up. I was like ?!?!????
By now, my father had gone through therapy and overcame his abuse. He worked very hard to change. I still hated him, and would not forgive him though, but used him when I needed something. So I told him I needed him to drive me to the airport and just to essentially be a security guard. Minh met my father, and we went to a museum. Everything was great. My dad left, and I took Minh to his Hotel so he could put away his luggage.
I don’t really want to type here my in depth thought process, but I honestly thought that Minh only came for one thing, and not because he was a friend. I tried to seduce him, and without knowing anything of my story, he said “no. Stop that. You are worth so much more than that”
i broke down crying. And went home.
when I got home, I really started thinking. In the end, I tore up the card the man gave me, and texted Minh to be ready in the morning to go out and have fun.
It was a wonderful time. First time I genuinely had fun in a very long time. We went ice skating, went to little Winter festivities. And decided that it would be official.
the next year and a half, God worked through Minh, but also through me. My last Suicide attempt was October 29th 2016. I had taken too many pills. And doctors told my parents that they brought me too late, and there wasn’t anything they could do. They told my mom that if my heart stopped, they would try to resuscitate me, but it was up to God now.
i was in and out of consciousness for what seemed for eternity. When I was the most conscious, I looked at the heart monitor. It was 38 bpm. And that’s all I remember. I woke up 3 days later in ICU, and then was taken to a psychiatric unit. I remember I was so angry. I was such a failure that I couldn’t even kill my self successfully.
after being discharged from the hospital in December, Minh told me that if I did it again, he would be so broken and he didn’t think he could go on living I was gone. The months passed, and as they passed, the voices became more and more ruthless. They even convinced me Minh was trying to hurt me.
then out of no where, I had a thought: maybe this isn’t a mental illness. Maybe this is spiritual. I have been on every antipsychotic in the book, none got rid of the voices. It only impaired my ability to react.
I decided to call a family member who is a very Devout Christian, someone I had been avoiding for years because being around her was nauseating. And I told her “I think this might be demonic”
and she said “honey, I knew it was demonic from the moment I saw you the first time in the hospital”
she paid for a flight for the upcoming Saturday (which was in 3 days) and said she knew exactly the person I needed to see.
she warned me though that I would have second thoughts, and that they would try to convince me to not go.and do whatever it took to keep me from going. I didn’t believe her.
But as the 3 days passed, it got harder and harder. I became ill, my family tried to talk me out of it, I had more suicidal urges than ever,
even when I was on the plane, there was a random unexpected delay for 2 hours because there was a dent in the wing and for some reason the airport records were not accessible, so they had to call out an engineer to check it.
but I got there.
The exorcsm took 3 days total. Started Wednesday, then was finished Friday and Saturday.
on Wednesday, I spoke with the exorcist. And it was nothing like the movies. We just talked. And I threw up so much.
what was weird though was I never had a problem entering churches. I could even touch the Bible or the cross. I felt uncomfortable saying Jesus’s name, but as long as I solely kept it just words and attached no meaning, it wasn’t a big deal. Just uncomfortable.
howveer is this time was different. I could not physically say the name Jesus Christ without throwing up foam. I told the exorcist it felt like there were snakes in my intestines. There was a period that I actually don’t remember. All I remember was hype exorcist calling my name. Then, I was told to go home and rest. I slept that next night and day, didn’t eat, didn’t even use the bathroom. My body felt like it just couldn’t move, so I slept. On Friday, my aunt took me to church. Going into the church was horrible. Whenever I looked at it, my head throbbed. And I had a weird taste in my mouth. It tasted like a bad piece of meat. But no matter how much gym I chewed, the taste wouldn’t go away. During the service, they asked us to raise or hands if we wanted a priest or someone to come pray over us. And though I tried to raise my hand, it felt like every time I tried, something would push it down. My aunt noticed and helped me raise it. But as soon as they laid their hands on me, the clergy, I threw up. It felt strange, where they were touching me. I cannot describe the pain, but it was very weird, and I squirmed and just wanted it to be done with.
then I went home, and slept.
saturday was the final day. Though I didn’t know.
basically on this day we talked about sin, and at some point, I must have like, blacked out or something . Because all of a sudden I was not like, there anymore. I mean I didn’t move, but it felt like my memories were being played all around me like a movie. And the voices were shouting “do you think an all knowing god would let this happen? And if he is so good and pure, do you think He would want to be associated with you?!” I started crying hysterically, and that’s when it began. So the exorcist talked me through the whole thing. First, she made me ask God to forgive me for all those I hurt, and though it was hard, I did. Then she had be forgive people by name. And I did, but it was so hard. I was scratching myself (but I guess my aunt knew this would happen because when I arrived she took me to get a manicure and we went with gel nails, so it was very soft and I could not scratch) I was ripping my hair, throwing up. And it got worse the further down the list I got. I forgave the man who violated me, and then, I forgave my father. The exorcist touched my arms (where majority of my scars are) and started saying stuff but the voices were too loud for me to hear. I was shaking violently, and the last thing I remember was saying “I’m sorry, the voices want me to kill you “ and the exorcist said something along the lines of that she wasn’t afraid because Christ Jesus was her savior and protector.
and it all went black after that. I don’t remember anything.
when I finally came to awareness, I can’t even to begin to describe what happened. There is no word to describe the beauty, and happiness I felt. Everything was silent. But a tranquil silence, not a lonely silence. I felt no pain, my mind was silent. Everything was over. I felt like I was in the presence of something. I could not see it or hear it, but I felt it. It was warm and comforting, loving, forgiving, I don’t even have the words. Truly perfect. And at that moment, I felt safe. And though that faded, I never forget it. And that’s what motivates me to keep going. Because if Heaven and God is even a fraction of that (which I know is not even close to true. I know that when I finally meet Him,that moment will be nothing in comparison) I want to be a part of it.
over the next week, I found a new sense of purpose. To help those who are lost like me, and to let them know that yes, there is a way out of the suffering. And it’s not Suicide. It’s Christ.
i also realied that there is really only one thing I hate, and that’s Satan. Honestly. Everyday I encounter someone who’s life has been impacted by him. And it makes me so angry. I genuinely hate Satan with every fiber of my being. And I want to fight to make sure not another soul gets pulled from Christ, and taken by Satan.
and yeah. That’s my story.
again, I’m sorry if it’s not like, appropriately worded :/ I’m still learning every day what it’s like to be a Christian.
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