The Hidden War Behind My Abuse
This is my truth about surviving spiritual attacks that started in childhood — and it’s time I finally say it out loud.
Nobody prepares you for war when you’re still in diapers.
Nobody warns you that while you’re surviving rape, betrayal, and abuse in the physical, something else is stalking you in the dark.
It wasn’t just the beatings. It wasn’t just the incest. It wasn’t just the chaos in my home.
There was something else, much darker.
Something that lived in the shadows of my bedroom.
Something that came for me at night when no one was watching.
And it wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t a dream.
It was real.
Why Spiritual Attacks Began So Early
Surviving spiritual attacks that started in childhood meant waking up with things pressing down on my chest, unable to move, unable to scream. It meant hearing voices that didn’t belong to the living. Seeing shadows move when no one was there. Feeling things touch me that weren’t human and weren’t trying to love me.
It went hand-in-hand with the trauma. Almost like they fed off each other.
I believe now that the abuse opened a door, a spiritual wound that let them in.
Because when your soul is broken, you’re vulnerable.
And those things? They don’t need a formal invitation.
Pain is the gateway. Trauma is the trigger.
And once they’re in, they feed.
When the Darkness Stopped Chasing Me
And I don’t care who tries to gaslight me or explain it away with science.
I know what I lived through.
And I know they weren’t just nightmares.
But here’s the part that haunts me still:
The attacks stopped.
Not because I healed.
Not because I prayed them away.
Not because I got stronger.
They stopped… because they got what they came for.
And that’s the kind of truth no one wants to sit with.
Because if you stop being hunted, it might mean you’ve already been claimed.
Surviving spiritual attacks that started in childhood while raising children of your own?
That’s a level of torment most people can’t even imagine.
When the Darkness Stopped Chasing Me
I didn’t know how to love.
I didn’t know how to protect.
I was still trying to survive.
And I passed down pain without meaning to.
Not because I didn’t care but because I was drowning.
Because no one had ever pulled me out.
Because I was still bleeding from wounds I hadn’t even named yet.
And yet — I’m still here.
Still fighting.
Still trying to get them out of me.
Still trying to cleanse what they infested.
Still doing the impossible, choosing to stand in my truth, even if it means standing alone.
This is just the beginning of what I’ve lived through.
The things I’ve seen.
The way darkness tries to mask itself as normal when your whole life has been infected by it.
But now? I’m ripping the mask off.
And if you’re someone who’s surviving spiritual attacks that started in childhood, I need you to know:
You’re not crazy.
You’re not broken.
And you’re not alone.
There’s a reason they came for you early.
There’s a reason they fought so hard to destroy you.
Because your light terrifies them.
Because your truth exposes them.
Because you are the kind of soul that was never meant to be owned.
