Crazy in Love
I one hundred percent believe in the presence of demons in our lives. I know this because I have seen them. This conversation that I am having tends to frighten people. It gives people who feel normal the ability to draw the line in the sand and divide the sane from the insane.
But just like God, not believing in demons, does not stop them from existing.
A few days into my sleepover Stephen came up to me.
"She's back."
"Who's back?"
"She is."
He nodded towards the observation room that I had just been moved from. I know realized that it was to make room for the woman now occupying the room.
For the next few days she tore up our lives. Any peace that had been found was now ripped apart.
All the male nurses we had were called in on overtime and kept with her. All day and night there was horrific screaming and cursing coming from her room. I peeked in her room at the high of one of the episodes and saw four of the male nurses trying to hold her down while another nurse administered some medication.
Stephen knew of her because they crossed paths every so often. She was also schizophrenic and occasionally came in to level her meds. She lived on a farm. His details were usually sporadic and vague.
So, for a few days we listened to her scream, heard the nurses snap at each other as they struggled with her, heard the smashing coming from the room. We lived without our favorite nurses as they pinned her down.
And everyday, we watched him.
Her husband came with her everytime. He sat with her everyday, all day. He was calm during the episodes, and walked outside of her room when she slept. He brushed her hair, and fed her. She was everything that the word crazy enveloped and he loved her with everything that he had.
After about four days, she came from her room. Our monster was a beautiful dark haired woman. She was about 30, and about 150 pounds. She was lovely even in the hospital robe. She walked slowly due to all the drugs, but smiled and said hello to all of us. And just behind her was her husband. He was also smiling, but not at us. At her.
She asked if anyone could french braid and I told her I could. She sat in front of me and I did my best, but I mostly watched him. He watched her and obviously loved her with every part of him.
She left before all of us, into the care of her husband. I am sure she had episodes again, as have we all. I know she was taken care of.
She is one of the reasons why I believe in demons. We see them. They whisper to us, and taunt us. They figure out what hurts us and pick on it. But with the belief in demons must come the belief of the opposite. Love. I wanted to be loved like that. I sought it like a drug. I wanted a man to love me so much that he would see me battle the demons and sit and brush my hair.
I have since remarried, and found a man that will help me fight my battles. He will see my darkness, and still love me just like her husband did. He was a gift to me from the most holy of Love. God has shown me the demons so I can fully realize His greatness and His kindness. My trips through the darkness show me the evil so I can go and tell the world of the Love.
I have someone that will brush my hair while I scream, and I thank God everyday for him.
But just like God, not believing in demons, does not stop them from existing.
A few days into my sleepover Stephen came up to me.
"She's back."
"Who's back?"
"She is."
He nodded towards the observation room that I had just been moved from. I know realized that it was to make room for the woman now occupying the room.
For the next few days she tore up our lives. Any peace that had been found was now ripped apart.
All the male nurses we had were called in on overtime and kept with her. All day and night there was horrific screaming and cursing coming from her room. I peeked in her room at the high of one of the episodes and saw four of the male nurses trying to hold her down while another nurse administered some medication.
Stephen knew of her because they crossed paths every so often. She was also schizophrenic and occasionally came in to level her meds. She lived on a farm. His details were usually sporadic and vague.
So, for a few days we listened to her scream, heard the nurses snap at each other as they struggled with her, heard the smashing coming from the room. We lived without our favorite nurses as they pinned her down.
And everyday, we watched him.
Her husband came with her everytime. He sat with her everyday, all day. He was calm during the episodes, and walked outside of her room when she slept. He brushed her hair, and fed her. She was everything that the word crazy enveloped and he loved her with everything that he had.
After about four days, she came from her room. Our monster was a beautiful dark haired woman. She was about 30, and about 150 pounds. She was lovely even in the hospital robe. She walked slowly due to all the drugs, but smiled and said hello to all of us. And just behind her was her husband. He was also smiling, but not at us. At her.
She asked if anyone could french braid and I told her I could. She sat in front of me and I did my best, but I mostly watched him. He watched her and obviously loved her with every part of him.
She left before all of us, into the care of her husband. I am sure she had episodes again, as have we all. I know she was taken care of.
She is one of the reasons why I believe in demons. We see them. They whisper to us, and taunt us. They figure out what hurts us and pick on it. But with the belief in demons must come the belief of the opposite. Love. I wanted to be loved like that. I sought it like a drug. I wanted a man to love me so much that he would see me battle the demons and sit and brush my hair.
I have since remarried, and found a man that will help me fight my battles. He will see my darkness, and still love me just like her husband did. He was a gift to me from the most holy of Love. God has shown me the demons so I can fully realize His greatness and His kindness. My trips through the darkness show me the evil so I can go and tell the world of the Love.
I have someone that will brush my hair while I scream, and I thank God everyday for him.
posted by TIffany at 5:14 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home