Monday, 29 October 2018
From malevolence to monotony: What became of my so-called "devil"...
He commanded me to go about and cause problems for myself and others, and it was like I had no means of thinking for myself. He was trying to ruin me on every conceivable level, so that I would just give up and jump off a bridge, or something. It got me into both social and legal hot water, and now a bunch of people think I'm pathetic and creepy, a complete lunatic, and don't ever want to speak to me again. Fortunately, most who know me in my day to day life now see a really sane, balanced individual when I engage with them, so it's just people who shut me out of their lives who probably think that way.
Even on high doses of antipsychotics, this "devil" would manipulate me to death, only he had less access to the psyche with the meds, so it was dulled - but this was my clue that I wasn't dealing with some typical dopamine issue. Once on meds, I was very good at hiding the pain, so doctors decided treatment was going well... ugh, yeah right.
There was an element of comedy to a lot of it, which kept me from dying, and I suspect it was Spirit that infused the experience with this, so that it would be more tolerable, but it was still very painful. I am still trying to piece together all facets of the experience, but it's coming. Some of the filthiest, most disgusting dialogue ran through my head, about things that again, I wish not to discuss... they're just too vile. My energy level sank, my intelligence bottomed out, my will was stifled, my ego was in constant pain. Only my heart and my desire to survive helped me to press on.
Overtime, with prayer work, smudge, invocation and dedication, he went from being a malevolent source to something pretty tame. On and off, I became convinced by the channels he influenced that he did not exist, so I would cease to put up a fight, but when I took up arms again, I would often do more damage to him. It took tons of work to finally get rid of him (still hoping that this is true, BTW), but by the end he had gone from tormenting me with horrific disturbances to grouchily commenting with things like "pizza causes love handles... don't eat THAAAT", to which I would reply with something like "Shut the fuck up, Satan". The anaconda had become a mere pinworm. I began to see cartoon visions of him being dragged off to an electric chair, where he'd then be executed, with credits on the side rolling, as if to suggest the end of him. And then... on October 21st of 2018 at around 9:30 PM or so, it was announced through me that he was finally dead.
I am still really unsure of what to make of all this. I want to take a reasonable approach, because of the fear I have of reliving systematic ruin at the hands of psychiatry and the law, but also because of the strides I have made in how friends and family perceive me now, versus back in the day, when it was really bad. This has been so otherworldly and strange that I completely comprehend why a person would be skeptical about what I describe... I would just appreciate it that if they are a skeptic, they keep their mouth shut at the same time.
This certainly doesn't sound like something that would typically happen in as bland and corporate a metropolis as Toronto.