If you have been following my blog, are friend or family, or have happened to have a conversation with me for more than 5 minutes, you know that I am a bit paranoid. I know….you’re thinking you never noticed right? You’re too kind. I wear my fears like a pornographic sandwich board in the middle of Times Square. I have fears that run from "plausible" to “not a chance in hell”. You know how the Department of Homeland Security has their Threat Level Advisory spectrum that runs from green to red? Well, I have the Anne’s Threat Level Advisory that runs from “Likely to Keep me Awake for no more than 10 minutes Code Green” to “Uncontrollable Bowel Movements, Code Brown”. Not much puts me into Code Brown these days, except for this thought… is demonic possession possible?
That’s right….I said it…(it should be noted that by even typing this or saying it out loud, I’m pretty sure I have increased my chances of actually being possessed. Once you say it…I’m pretty sure evil spirits know you are weak to their power. You know how Santa(whose actual existence my jury is still out on) supposedly gets stronger by knowing we believe in him? Yeah…I’m pretty sure the same thing goes for Satan and his posse.) I’m not coming from a religious standpoint. I mean the Catholic church believes in it. Once they prove something….it’s done….I’m coming from your average Joe standpoint, “Could this happen to me?” I know I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.
Just look at the kinds of things we are terrorized with in the media….Paranormal Activity, The Last Exorcism, Ghost Hunters, Exorcist, Gigli. If the fear of evil incarnated wasn’t real, Hollywood wouldn’t be able to profit off of it right? Who among us hasn’t frozen in cold horror at the sight and sound of static snow on the T.V.(and I mean old school Poltergeist static, not overdone The Ring static)? Turned on every light as we walk through our homes in the middle of the night? Heard the creak of the stairs that made our blood run cold in our veins, or sprinkle the perimeter of our bedrooms’ with Holy Water? Okay, that last one may be a bit extreme, but you know what they say about desperate times.
In my life I have had a few supernatural experiences, but they were awesome and not at all frightening in retrospect, (and not at all substance abuse related). I’ve been tapped, whispered at, woken up, and communicated with in dreams. (I realize all of those encounters could be explained away by various psychological diagnosis, none of which I have…I can get a signed doctors note if requested.)
They are probably just figments of my over active imagination, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not trying to convince anyone else of their occurrence or existence. These experiences have mostly been with family or friends who have passed on, and have provided a sense of comfort and calm. These are not the kind of interactions that freak me out. These are not the kind of interactions that signal a “Code Brown” on the Anne Threat Level.
They are probably just figments of my over active imagination, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not trying to convince anyone else of their occurrence or existence. These experiences have mostly been with family or friends who have passed on, and have provided a sense of comfort and calm. These are not the kind of interactions that freak me out. These are not the kind of interactions that signal a “Code Brown” on the Anne Threat Level.
It’s the scary paranormal I worry about. I scare easily and can sometimes, especially this time of year, be in a perpetual “flinching” state from anything in the scary spectrum of the paranormal. While I know it’s not logical, there have been times where I have thought… “You know what would really be unfortunate? Getting possessed.” Let me give you some do’s and don'ts I have picked up and practiced along the way for avoiding said situation.
Don’t Play with the Occult
I once had a slumber party where my attendees insisted upon a Ouji Board. I knew, even at the ripe age of 13 that you don’t deal with the darkside. Dabbling in Ouji Boards is kind of like dabbling in cocaine…it’s all fun and games until you’ve blown the roof off the darkside, and there is no coming back…..please see exhibit A: Ghostbusters and Gary Busey.
When it was my turn, I got about five minutes into trying to contact River Phoenix or Kerry Von Erich or whoever, and before I knew it, my bedroom door was opening by itself and I was hiding behind my fake Z-Cavariccis and Walmart brand Hyper-color shirts in my closet, having a hyper-color Code Yellow in my pajamas.
When it was my turn, I got about five minutes into trying to contact River Phoenix or Kerry Von Erich or whoever, and before I knew it, my bedroom door was opening by itself and I was hiding behind my fake Z-Cavariccis and Walmart brand Hyper-color shirts in my closet, having a hyper-color Code Yellow in my pajamas.
Don’t own easily “possess-able” toys
This is standard and really basic knowledge in the fight against possession. In a tragic turn of events…I had asked for a “Cricket” doll for Christmas one year. It was the “My Buddy” for girls and I pined for months over getting that doll. If you don’t remember,( see for yourself )these dolls were almost lifesize and surprisingly life-like, and most importantly they talked.
Well, after years of begging, in 1987, I finally got my very own “Cricket”, with her frozen eyed stare and bizarre perma-smile, which I propped up in a rocking chair at the foot of my bed.
Unfortunately the love affair was short-lived. In 1988, the movie “Child’s Play” came out. You do the math on this one…. I’m pretty sure my “Cricket” is still face down, still staring, mouth duct-taped, in a frantically and haphazardly sealed cardboard box in my parent’s attic.
Well, after years of begging, in 1987, I finally got my very own “Cricket”, with her frozen eyed stare and bizarre perma-smile, which I propped up in a rocking chair at the foot of my bed.
Unfortunately the love affair was short-lived. In 1988, the movie “Child’s Play” came out. You do the math on this one…. I’m pretty sure my “Cricket” is still face down, still staring, mouth duct-taped, in a frantically and haphazardly sealed cardboard box in my parent’s attic.
Do avoid scary film and literature
I don’t watch scary movies or read scary books either. I learned my lesson on that issue years ago. Freshman year of college, I decided I would be a literary hipster and get into literature from the 60’s and 70’s. One of these reads was The Exorcist.
This was the purportedly true story that inspired the movie which I to this day, have not seen in it’s entirety. (I just couldn’t come back mentally or visually from the “crabwalk down the stairs”scene.) Let me tell you, in a side by side comparison, The Exorcist book makes the movie seem like a Hallmark Special.
In the book, Satan’s demons creep stealthly and persistently into their victim. Their possession is not the sudden storm like the movie, but a slow, steady build. In fact, in the book, the demons only announce their initial presence at first by infrequent, but insistent tapping inside the little girl’s walls.
As the demons build strength, so does the speed and severity of their tapping, before it finally deposits in the soul of their victim. ( I think I almost threw up just recounting this). I read the entire book one night while home for Christmas break, you know….in the spirit of the Season.
It was an exceptionally cold night, and as I shut off my light and laid my head on the pillow, I heard the slightest noise coming from my ceiling. Tap….a few seconds….tap,tap. Then I heard what sounded like scratching…and then silence….scratching…and then silence. Next, I heard what sounded like a toddler running across the floorboards above me. Be gone Satan! I just knew it was happening to me as it had happened in the book.
Now, as I recount this, I’m able to calmly describe what happened in detail. But as you can imagine, at the time it was happening, I was suffering what can only be described as instant paralysis followed by profuse sweating, followed by my rapid-fire,obsessive repetition of the words “Dear Jesus, baby Jesus, Dear Jesus, Baby Jesus” over and over and then having to have what I can only describe as an unholy evacuation of my bowels.
I found out later that my gastrointestinal reaction is what professionals call a common “fear response.” (this is why, if I do view a horror film…I do it at home…it really is better for everyone involved). It wasn’t until that sleep-deprived next morning that my mother shared the fact that the recent cold had forced a family of squirrels into our attic, and at night they “really got going.”
This was the purportedly true story that inspired the movie which I to this day, have not seen in it’s entirety. (I just couldn’t come back mentally or visually from the “crabwalk down the stairs”scene.) Let me tell you, in a side by side comparison, The Exorcist book makes the movie seem like a Hallmark Special.
In the book, Satan’s demons creep stealthly and persistently into their victim. Their possession is not the sudden storm like the movie, but a slow, steady build. In fact, in the book, the demons only announce their initial presence at first by infrequent, but insistent tapping inside the little girl’s walls.
As the demons build strength, so does the speed and severity of their tapping, before it finally deposits in the soul of their victim. ( I think I almost threw up just recounting this). I read the entire book one night while home for Christmas break, you know….in the spirit of the Season.
It was an exceptionally cold night, and as I shut off my light and laid my head on the pillow, I heard the slightest noise coming from my ceiling. Tap….a few seconds….tap,tap. Then I heard what sounded like scratching…and then silence….scratching…and then silence. Next, I heard what sounded like a toddler running across the floorboards above me. Be gone Satan! I just knew it was happening to me as it had happened in the book.
Now, as I recount this, I’m able to calmly describe what happened in detail. But as you can imagine, at the time it was happening, I was suffering what can only be described as instant paralysis followed by profuse sweating, followed by my rapid-fire,obsessive repetition of the words “Dear Jesus, baby Jesus, Dear Jesus, Baby Jesus” over and over and then having to have what I can only describe as an unholy evacuation of my bowels.
I found out later that my gastrointestinal reaction is what professionals call a common “fear response.” (this is why, if I do view a horror film…I do it at home…it really is better for everyone involved). It wasn’t until that sleep-deprived next morning that my mother shared the fact that the recent cold had forced a family of squirrels into our attic, and at night they “really got going.”
Don’t believe everything you hear:
At 21 I suffered my first panic attack. I really thought I was going crazy. If you have ever had a panic attack, you know what I mean. We are talking room spinning, lung ripping, heart stabbing, crazy head, debilitating panic attack. Not pleasant…at all.
I went to see my primary care doctor that day to get something, anything to help me sleep, cope, a cure,to help me live for that matter. I was desperate and would believe anything if it meant I would feel better.
As I was recounting my episode, he asked me, “are you a believer?"
“Of what, medicine? Doctors?” I asked.
“No.” he replied. “Jesus our Savior.”
I was taken back. “Um…I’m Christian….but, I mean, I don’t really think that is relevant, or his doing, I mean this is just being human…I prayed about it, but I don’t really think my anxiety is Jesus related but I’m kind of freaking out right now. I’m not sure that’s the point right now, I mean I'm not sleeping, not eating…I mean I feel crazy, I feel like I’m possessed or something” I responded with the slightest hint of a laugh. My laugh was answered with a stare….
“Well, I can’t rule that out” he responded.
I went to see my primary care doctor that day to get something, anything to help me sleep, cope, a cure,to help me live for that matter. I was desperate and would believe anything if it meant I would feel better.
As I was recounting my episode, he asked me, “are you a believer?"
“Of what, medicine? Doctors?” I asked.
“No.” he replied. “Jesus our Savior.”
I was taken back. “Um…I’m Christian….but, I mean, I don’t really think that is relevant, or his doing, I mean this is just being human…I prayed about it, but I don’t really think my anxiety is Jesus related but I’m kind of freaking out right now. I’m not sure that’s the point right now, I mean I'm not sleeping, not eating…I mean I feel crazy, I feel like I’m possessed or something” I responded with the slightest hint of a laugh. My laugh was answered with a stare….
“Well, I can’t rule that out” he responded.
Had my Doctor's head spun off his body and exploded against the ceiling, I could not have been more shocked. My mother and I just looked at him with faces of anger, disbelief, and desperation.
While he rambled on about some scripture about devils and Isaac and scales on people’s faces, my mother squeezed my hand in a way that told me “I’m getting you out of here….don’t listen”.
We shouldn't have worried about being rude. We should have just gotten up and left. But like I said, we were desperate...we grew up learning to trust medical professionals. We were in uncharted territory.
I kept waiting for a prescription for a young priest and an old priest, but all I got was Xanax. This doctor has since been reported to the Medical Board. My thought is that you typically don’t want to suggest treating spirit possession as your first line of treatment to someone suffering from anxiety and depression. I shudder to think of the others he might have harmed emotionally while following his profession’s oath of supposedly doing none.
While he rambled on about some scripture about devils and Isaac and scales on people’s faces, my mother squeezed my hand in a way that told me “I’m getting you out of here….don’t listen”.
We shouldn't have worried about being rude. We should have just gotten up and left. But like I said, we were desperate...we grew up learning to trust medical professionals. We were in uncharted territory.
I kept waiting for a prescription for a young priest and an old priest, but all I got was Xanax. This doctor has since been reported to the Medical Board. My thought is that you typically don’t want to suggest treating spirit possession as your first line of treatment to someone suffering from anxiety and depression. I shudder to think of the others he might have harmed emotionally while following his profession’s oath of supposedly doing none.
Now, my mother and I can laugh about it. It’s just another example of my luck in times of trial. Needless to say though, that took time and a good therapist with an even better sense of humor to come down from. But like I said, I did get a Xanax out of the deal, so it wasn’t a lose/lose situation.
So here’s my thinking… I know that manifest evil isn’t real, sort of…I know that some of the stories out there are made up…sort of. And I know I’m not crazy, sort of.
The reason I believe in God, that I play the lotto, or that I fill out those entry forms for the Publisher’s Clearinghouse is that I just can't predict or possibly know everything.
There are a lot of "what if's?" out there. I don't want that day of reckoning, or in this case, unholy inhabitation, to come and find out I’m not on the right team, that I should have scratched the numbers, or that I’m unaware or unprepared. That I’m short a penny, over the line, or using a pencil when I’m supposed to use a pen.
So…on one hand, I’ll keep praying to my deceased family members and thinking of them often, and being open to those times I think I feel them in a sound, a smell, or breeze during my day.
On the other hand, I want to be prepared for a Code Brown, so I’ll keep my Holy Water, thank you. I’ll keep my nighttime prayers and my superstitions. I’ll keep my 23rd Psalm and Lord’s Prayer. I’ll keep turning on lights, and turning off static channels. I’ll keep my unfounded fears and paranoias because they are like my leather shoes…I finally have them worn in, and they fit me perfectly. I’m just raising awareness…your welcome.
The reason I believe in God, that I play the lotto, or that I fill out those entry forms for the Publisher’s Clearinghouse is that I just can't predict or possibly know everything.
There are a lot of "what if's?" out there. I don't want that day of reckoning, or in this case, unholy inhabitation, to come and find out I’m not on the right team, that I should have scratched the numbers, or that I’m unaware or unprepared. That I’m short a penny, over the line, or using a pencil when I’m supposed to use a pen.
So…on one hand, I’ll keep praying to my deceased family members and thinking of them often, and being open to those times I think I feel them in a sound, a smell, or breeze during my day.
On the other hand, I want to be prepared for a Code Brown, so I’ll keep my Holy Water, thank you. I’ll keep my nighttime prayers and my superstitions. I’ll keep my 23rd Psalm and Lord’s Prayer. I’ll keep turning on lights, and turning off static channels. I’ll keep my unfounded fears and paranoias because they are like my leather shoes…I finally have them worn in, and they fit me perfectly. I’m just raising awareness…your welcome.
I think this has to be my favorite post thus far - if I was forced to choose one, of course! As much as I love the festive, dress-up, partiness of Halloween, I hate the fear-inducing eye candy that finds places to live around every corner. Thank you so much for your humor which I will recall as I face those monsters, demons and witches in the aisles of Walmart. (...and I dare not watch any of the movies that air when the holiday approaches, I just can't deal with them).
ReplyDelete