It is Monday morning. The kids are out of school for the summer, so I do not have an alarm set. I open my eyes and it’s already after 8. I can barely see as I am so exhausted and don’t feel like I can pull myself out of bed. I have already slept 8 hours, but instead of feeling rested I feel like I have been beat up all night long. I close my eyes for just a moment and when I open them again it’s after 9. I jump out of bed, consumed with guilt because my two youngest sons will already be up. I drag myself down stairs to find them watching a show on the Roku.
They are not the least bit upset I slept in. For them it means more TV time. I grab my usual quart of water and sit on the couch with them. I stare mindlessly at the television. I hate every single show they opt to watch, because I can see how the occult leaks in to everything. It drives me crazy. Yet I know I can’t hide them from it, and frankly, I am already feeling like hell. I have no alternative to offer my children at this moment. I try not to spend time telling myself what a terrible mother I am and focus on surviving the day.
Monday is the day my new blog posts come out. By revelation of the Lord, I know the extreme attack that is coming at me as I walk in the call God has placed on my life. There are many groups of people that want me to stop this blog. I have astral rituals and witchcraft coming at me all day long. The fact that I was born into the occult does not help the attack, because it leaves me more susceptible to feeling it’s affects than others. You cannot just walk away from the occult and be free from it. They never stop coming after you, and because I know all their secrets, I am dangerous.
After I have my coffee I am still not feeling any better. My head feels like it is in a fog. I can’t think straight and my emotions are like a roller coaster. I sway from sad to angry to unhinged. Today I am feeling the effects of processing my reality. The reality that I grew up in the occult and was terribly abused, but was unable to remember until Jesus Christ showed me is a haunting fact. It is painful. It is unreal at times. It is horrifying. It is my life.
Many people cannot fully comprehend what an occult survivor goes through on a daily basis. They cannot fathom the spiritual aspects of the life that a survivor has to live through. Especially when your family is the one that brought you in to the occult, which is what happens in most cases. It can be extremely lonely. People are always well meaning, but the fact is the damage that runs through a soul broken by this level of abuse is incomprehensible. Even to me.
I remind myself I need to pray against witchcraft and try to connect with God. It is difficult because my brain feels like it’s been lost at sea. I am trying to navigate through a storm without a map or compass. I pray and pray and try to fend off the attack I was vulnerable too in the night, and try to find a center on God. On this particular day, it is nearly impossible. I love God with all my heart, but the enormity of the attack, combined with the overwhelming pain of my life, is more than I can bear at all. It’s like torment on my soul.
I am determined to make the best of my day though. I eat breakfast and get dressed so I can take the kids to an indoor playground. There is a cafe there, so I bring a coloring book with me. Doing things that can help engage my left brain are supposed to bring me out of a place of emotional trauma. There are many things in my life that are what are called trauma triggers. That is, something that reminds a person of the trauma from their past and causes an upheaval of emotional pain and torment.
Trauma triggers can happen anywhere and anytime. It can be as simple as seeing a cartoon of Paul the Apostle chained in a dungeon. Before I know it I feel upset and unstable at a little innocent cartoon that should have nothing to do with causing me pain. But it does. Because at one time, that was me. It can also be something like almost running over a cat that ran out in the road. It should be a little upsetting at best, but for me it causes me hyperventilate. Because for me, seeing death come to innocent life is very real.
At the playground the kids are having a blast. I am so thankful for the peace I have while coloring, even in a place filled with the noise of playing children. I am still not together though. I have been stumbling through the day and have made one mistake after another. Things like forgetting to pick up my son from his math tutor (I was only 15 minutes late thankfully!) or throwing away the cap to the creamer. It may seem like little things, but they happen all day long. A sign that my brain is not able to engage.
The microwave in the cafe frequently beeps in a surprisingly loud tone that startles me every time. I am so on edge already that the noise causes me to want to rise up and scream ‘shut up!’, but I am able to contain myself. The grace of God saves me in a lot of instances, but not always. Sometimes I am living in a place of emotional trauma, even though there is none obvious before me. And because of this I take it out of my loved ones. The part of me that is living in trauma cannot separate the past reality of abuse from my current reality, and I react to little things like my children talking back by screaming at them. It’s a survival instinct at that point.
When you spend years of your life with no control over what is being done to you, you begin to have control issues. Add in the fact that what is being done to you in heinous torture that I would not describe her, and you have the making of crazy really. I should be in a psychiatric hospital knowing what I know, but God is so good. He is helping me to live even in the midst of all this pain and helping me to find purpose in the trauma. I could be dealing with horrible flashbacks that send me into a corner crying, but God in His mercy protects me in so many ways.
After a few hours the kids are finally ready to leave. My 8 year old is very upset by some things that have happened, and I am able to calmly talk to him about it. I am not sure how much it actually helps him, but I feel the grace of God around me. I feel like it’s one small victory in a day full of failures. I feel so ashamed of the kind of mother I am, but I feel helpless to be the kind of mother I imagine I should be. It is actually a miracle that I even had children, because of the abuse that was done to me should have stripped that possibility from my life.
When we get home I know that either I talk to the person who helps me with my inner healing, or I completely loose my sanity and potentially hurt someone. I am so far emotionally gone that it scares me. Over the phone we talk and pray and I talk to the Lord about what is going on and what has caused such intense trauma in me. It turns out there has been a vicious spiritual attack reaming me since the night before. I do the work to release myself from the torment and immediately feel the pressure ease up. I take some ibuprofen for my pounding head and within an hour feel half way decent.
Spiritual attack is indeed the norm for most Christians, but when you have lived a life in the occult, you come to understand attack on a whole new level. The devil will always have his schemes, but for someone who has been inducted into darkness, the attack rarely lets up. It’s not just attack because you naturally have an enemy: it’s also attack because the devil has already had you in his camp and isn’t ready to just let you go. He wants you to believe you can never get away.
The devil is a liar, but there is also some truth to this threat. He is not going to stop coming after me just because I am gaining freedom from what he has done to me. He wants to stop me from doing exactly what I am doing: writing the simple truth about my life. Because through my life Jesus Christ has worked a miracle to bring me freedom. Where there was no hope, Jesus saw otherwise. The devil did a good job holding me captive for a long time. But I am an adult now, and can choose freely for myself.
Being an occult survivor means control. You have never had any control over your life. Others have had control over you, and have made sure to scar you to the point where you are to afraid to try to take much control for yourself. Instead you live out of what you know: and what you know is the occult and the trauma that is have bound you too. Yet Jesus sees past all that. He sees past someone fighting with witchcraft and hate and gives you the choice. Love. Love is something I have never really known until I met Jesus Christ. He is my salvation.
Every day is a struggle for me to balance who I am with who I was told I will always be. Between God’s truth and the devils lies that were planted in me. And every day I do my best to choose God, because I know He is the only one that has been there with me, through all the hard and painful times of my life. Whether I knew He was there or not, He was always there. Some days I am swallowed up in pain from the reality of my life, and some days I am able to find strength and joy in the midst of it.
Not matter what I will continue to walk down this healing path. Because with out it I have nothing. I can’t go back to what I had before: a life of pain and suffering for no apparent reason. Before I knew Jesus Christ, and before I started inner healing, my life was the same: I felt like hell, I had a hard time functioning, and I flew of the handle easily. I took it for granted that this was just normal life for so many years that it wasn’t until I met Jesus Christ that I realized this was definitely not normal.
If I stop now I can never expect to move forward in my life. I would be stuck in limbo: halfway into healing and never progressing. I want more of Jesus Christ in me and in my life. It is a constant battle, accepting the reality of my life, and trying my best to fight for my freedom daily. To believe that Jesus is near when I feel like I’m drowning, and to pursuing healing even though it opens up deep wounds.
Some people will never understand why I am doing inner healing, and some people will never understand the depths of the struggle my life is. No matter the cost I have found one thing to be true: Jesus Christ is worth it all. I am not whining or complaining about my life, but inviting you in with one simple goal; to bring you hope. If I can face my past, my fears, my pain, my trauma, and come out on the other side as the victor, than so can you.
My life is not exactly like yours, but it’s not quite so different either. The devil has a vendetta against us all. And we can continue to walk through life with our heads bowed down and make the best of what we have, or we can take the chance to look up and see the One who loves us more than we can ever dare to imagine. It is through that love that we will truly find our lives. Not the lives we think we have been handed or the lives we believe we have made; but the lives God has died and for for us to have.
Every life is worth living, no matter the struggle or the battle. It just comes down to one thing; will you love your life unto death, so that Jesus can bring you resurrection from it? It is a choice with great consequences, but even far greater rewards.