Somehow, the children had all gone to bed at a decent hour tonight. It was almost eerie to have the house so quiet. My husband and I opted to watch a movie together. Still trying to smooth things over from our fight the previous night. It happened to be some horror film about possession. Yet while the film played on, my mind wandered.

What really was a possession? Was it truly something demonic and beyond our realm? Something so other worldly? Or was it simply a case of extreme mental disorder? Surely, the movies exaggerated things for the theatrics. But there were real life documented cases of demonic possession.

Was it possible that all of these cases of possession could easily be fixed with medication and therapy? Were these possessions really just the cause of some sort of chemical imbalance within their brains? And what about the flip side? Was it possible that someone with a mental disorder could be cured by having an exorcisim?

The way the woman thrashed around on the bed wildly reminded me of any other movie about being in a mental asylum. How connected was a mental disorder to a spiritual disorder, I wondered? I considered myself to be fairly spiritual. Was my own illness due to some evil entity? Demons and mental illness. Were the two mutually exclusive? The pills didn't completely fix me. Could I be cured with an exorcisim instead?

It reminded me of that famous phrase. Which came first? The chicken or the egg? Was it possible that mental illness brought in demons or evil spirits? Or that maybe evil spirits or demons are the ones that brought mental illness? How much of these kinds of movies were embellished? How much was genuine?

Both myself and the woman on screen heard voices that no one else could hear. We both saw faces changing. Except for her, it was a demon tormenting her. Seeing all of this, of course, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the same for me, as well. I could possibly be being harassed by a demon. That was when another thought crossed my mind. The stalker. The stalker that I couldn't prove existed. What if this whole time I couldn't point him out was because he wasn't of this earthly realm? What if this whole time, my mental disorder was caused by me being stalked by such an evil entity?

In all the movies and even in religious texts, the person who was possessed usually had more than one demon within them. They always claimed to be "many." Wouldn't that explain why I heard multiple different kinds of voices? I mean, what were those men always discussing behind the walls anyway? Why couldn't I ever hear them clearly?

My heart beat faster. It all made sense. That would explain why I could feel it. Why I always felt like I was being watched. But it still didn't completely explain what the voices said or sounded like. I always heard either children or those casual men. Wouldn't a demon tell me to harm myself or others like in the movies? That was never the case for me. So, maybe it wasn't a demon? I relaxed my muscles that I hadn't even realized had tensed up on me. Surely, it was no demon. Demons had deep and scary voices. Or. That was what they wanted me to think.

I thought about the analogy of the frog in the boiling water. How apparently if you toss a frog into boiling water, it will recognize it is unsafe and immediately jump out. But if you put a frog in water and then slowly turn up the heat a little at a time, the frog will slowly adjust without recognizing the danger. Hence, you could boil the frog. What if this was a demon, but I didn't recognize it because nothing was boiling around me? What if the temperature was slowly increasing and I wasn't realizing it? A human stalker couldn't make me see faces shifting. But a demon? Far more likely.

I spent the entire movie thinking all about my condition. Mine was supposed to be temporary. Although, I had had it for the last two and a half years. I maybe only had about a year or so more of this. At least, that was the hope. The doctor said if it persisted beyond that, I may get a different diagnosis. I hope that wasn't the case. I had hoped that this would simply go away. Like waking up one day to simply be normal again. No more hallucinations. No more voices. No more depression. Although, that was a long shot. My depression and anxiety were with me long before my pregnancies. It was likely they would be with me for the remainder of my life. But, a woman could dream. I hoped to dream. Because this all felt like some kind of nightmare.