Sorry, devil worshippers. It is possible demons are present in this post, but if so, it is only in auditory form. I recommend you try instead www.icraveeternaltorment.com.
As I woke up, my sisters were talking to each other in the room we three shared at the time. The problem was, that wasn’t all I was hearing. There were dozens of other voices talking only to me:
Evil, loudly whispering voices of demons.
I would have thought the voices were leftovers from a nightmare, except that I was awake now, and they weren’t going away.
The sunlight was coming in the window over my sister Jill’s bed, and I kept hearing both my sisters converse, and these voices were yelling at me in whispers, and I thought I was going crazy, because Jill and Peggy weren’t hearing anything.
I decided that I would try talking, too, and then maybe the voices would stop.
I began to speak to my sisters, slowly joining their conversation. It was hard to do, because of the distraction of the other voices, but I was able to put in a few words here and there. It didn’t help. The voices didn’t stop.
I remember I made a little high-pitched half-crying whine and pulled the covers up over my head, squeezing my eyes shut. Of course, that didn’t help, either. What was I going to do?
I took the covers off my head. I looked around the room. Everything was so normal. Everything except the demons yelling at me in whispers.
So I decided to ignore them.
I knew that God wouldn’t let demons have any power over me, and no one else could hear the voices, so I boxed them up and put them aside.
Once I made the mental decision that I was not going to listen to them or worry about them, but just go about my normal business, they immediately became less important to me.
By the end of that morning, they simply faded away.
The voices did recur a couple of more times in my childhood, and they were very frightening each time, but the same treatment laid them to rest each time.
We all know, because of the film A Beautiful Mind, that the schizophrenic mathematician heroically learned to ignore the illusions caused by his illness. Well, guess what buddy—you weren’t the first! A little girl named B. was.
Good job, little B.!
You know what? I’m a big grown-up now, rereading this, and I’ve decided I deserve yet another big pat on the back for being such a big smarty-pants, and for not growing up to become another schizophrenic bag lady. Good job, B.! I am so proud of you, since your useless mommy and daddy weren’t! You were a smart little cutie, and you still are!
NOTE: This was originally posted in Dec., 2011 as the second half of Victory Over the Devil”.