Something very weird happened to me this past year. I did not realize when I wrote “the weirdest thing happened to me” in last year’s blog post that things were about to get even weirder. Apparently God was not finished answering my prayer to help me “to believe for real, like, really real. For real.” I’m not ready to write about what happened. It would take too long, for one thing, and I have a novel I’m trying to finish. What I went through was kind of traumatic and embarrassing. But it’s been a while since my last blog post, and I feel like I should write an update.
Two weeks before Easter I began experiencing weird symptoms—difficulty falling asleep, nightmares, hearing voices, “hallucinations,” and allergic reactions to synthetic fabrics, electricity, meat and dairy. The symptoms were so severe, on April 16th, 2025 I was admitted to the Crisis Stabilization Unit at the Palomar Medical Center in Escondido for “acute psychosis.” I checked out the next morning with a prescription for Olanzapine, an antipsychotic medication. Later, after describing my physical symptoms to someone (I did not mention the voices and hallucinations), I was told it could be something called Mast Cell Activation Syndrome. On May 14th, I called my primary care office to make an appointment and told them my symptoms—fatigue, shortness of breath. They told me to go to the hospital emergency room ASAP (I think they thought I was having a heart attack). I spent the rest of that afternoon in a hospital bed hooked up to wires and monitors. I got a chest X-ray, a 12-lead ECG, and blood drawn for a whole battery of tests (CBC w/ differential, COVID-19, comprehensive metabolic panel, influenza A/B, NT Pro-BNP, Troponin I).
The X-ray came back “negative” (lungs clear, heart and pulmonary vasculature normal, no infiltrates, no edema, no effusions). The lab tests showed I was perfectly healthy.
What triggered all this weirdness?
Well, dear reader, it just so happened that I experienced some “bad luck” after selling some (very cool-looking) goth jewelry to a thrift store, jewelry that I had kept in an old jewelry box I inherited from the Chinese side of my family. I had the bright idea of pulling out that jewelry box from my wardrobe, sprinkling (Orthodox) holy water on it, and reading aloud two Catholic deliverance prayers (from https://www.catholicexorcism.org/ ): “Disposing of Cursed Objects” and “Remove Generational Spirits Prayer.” Before I had gotten to the end of the second prayer, I felt pin pricks on the palm of my right hand, then on the back of my hand, then the pin pricks went up my right arm.
Everything went to “hell” (as the idiom goes) after that.
I am not kidding. I am not making this up.
To make a long story short, I’m doing better. Not because of the Olanzapine medication (which muted the “weirdness,” but not by much). What helped were the ancient prayers and liturgical services of the Eastern Orthodox Church (they call the Church “a hospital for the soul”), and the spiritual advice of two Catholic priests who believed me.
My priest thinks I “fractured” my “spirit” by splitting my time and devotion between Protestant, Orthodox, and Catholic prayers and services. Maybe. What I think also happened is I accidentally busted open the barrier or “veil” that separates our physical world from the spiritual realm by invoking a Catholic deliverance prayer when I’m not a baptized Catholic, and pissed off something in a big way.
The “weirdness” is mostly over, but not completely. I can eat meat and dairy again (though I still follow the Orthodox vegan fasting calendar). I’m still a little sensitive to polyester and other synthetic fabrics. Almost every night when I’m about to fall asleep, a loud sound effect jolts me awake (it sounds like a vinyl record being scratched in my ear, or a smashing sound, and it lasts about half a second). For some reason, pulling the cotton bed sheet completely over my head like a scared little kid (or a dead body) stops or minimizes it and I’m able to fall asleep. Two mornings ago when I hit “stop” on my phone alarm and was about to fall back asleep, I heard a drum bang in my left ear, waking me up (I was alone—my husband was already out of bed). For the past couple of days I felt something like a touch or caress on the back of my head, and a tingly chill ran down my upper spine (I threw my flannel shirt over the back of my head like a veil, and that stopped it).
I suppose I could go back to the Olanzapine to stop the persistent sound effects from jolting me awake, or find another drug, but I was told these drugs don’t actually cure anything, and you have to take them for the rest of your life. I don’t like drugs (I make an exception for the caffeine in my morning coffee). If throwing a cotton sheet or veil over my head also stops (or minimizes) the weirdness and allows me resume my normal activities, then why not?
(BTW, the writer David Foster Wallace covered his head with a bandana. According to random blog posts I found on the internet, he wore the bandana to deal with his excessive sweating, but he found the bandana made him “feel better” (I need to do more research to verify this). Orthodox nuns and bishops (and Catholic nuns) also cover their heads. Head coverings for women is an ancient tradition in the Church. I used to think head coverings were a fashion choice, to hide the hair in a display of modesty. Now I’m wondering if there’s an actual, no kidding objective reason.)
I assume God is allowing me to experience what I’m going through for a good reason. What that reason is exactly, I don’t know. What I do know is if that if I ever get my publishing career off the ground, what I experienced will end up in my fiction someday.
God is real. But the reality of God also means the reality of angels and demons. If the misery I went through—bug-eyed people grinning at me in my dreams, voices and noises waking me up all night, intrusive thoughts, feelings of despair and hopelessness, the sensation of being bitten by invisible bugs—if those were demons harassing me (and I believe they are), then demons have the maturity of middle school bullies, the moral arrogance of copyright trolls, and the sense of humor of psychopaths.
Have a blessed All Hallows’ Eve.
