Catherine nodded in her attempt to understand my mindset. "Therefore, you think that it may be demons talking to you?"

Maybe I shouldn't have told her anything. Maybe it all sounded too crazy. Of course, she wouldn't understand. She didn't hear the same things I did. She didn't see people shifting. How could she even begin to fathom what I was thinking. How could any of it make even an ounce of sense to her? "I don't know." I said my usual phrase. "It was just an idea. I mean, I don't even know if this is real life." Maybe I shouldn't have said that either. But it came out too suddenly.

"What do you mean by that?" Of course, she wanted to follow up on that.

I had to fight every nerve within me, not to roll my eyes. The frustration of trying to explain myself was getting to me. "What makes more sense?" I tried using her reasoning method, "That I have slipped into an alternate dimension, and my real dimension keeps bleeding through into this one? Or that I am hearing and seeing voices of a spiritual nature? That demons are potentially tormenting me?"

"I hear you." Catherine said, "which makes more sense to you?"

"Nothing makes sense to me." I draped my arms around myself. At this point, I felt I needed to physically hold myself together so I wouldn't fall apart.

"It's scary." Catherine pointed out. "Not knowing the cause or the reasons why. Feeling alone and misunderstood. I understand your husband is still not a very good support system for you. You want to feel "normal." You want answers as to why you can't. I would, too. But you should be careful not to make any grand leaps."

"So, you think it's all just..." I shrugged, "in my head?"

"Tell you what," Catherine smiled, "if you start levitating and speaking in tongues, I'll call an exorcist myself!" She made me smile, too. When she put it like that, it sounded silly. But everything I said seemed to sound silly. In a moment like this, I could realistically understand just how outlandish my whole struggle was. But while I was in my moments, my "episodes" as my husband called them, it was real. There was nothing else except for the reality that I was currently living.

If you woke up one day to see a stranger next to you in bed, would you panic? Especially if he claimed to be your husband? If everyone else called him your husband? If every picture in your house was replaced with this imposter somehow? Where everyone looks at you strangely if you don't see what they all see? Then you have everyone telling you to ignore your eyes. To ignore what you see right in front of you. Because your eyes, your mind, you.. are wrong.

Same thing with the voices. You're told, "I don't hear anything." When you hear it as clear as day. How can you trust your own senses anymore? When can you rely on your body if it apparently keeps misleading you or failing you?

That night, back at home, my husband opted to go to the store instead of me. He figured he would be faster and more efficient. I didn't argue with that. Instead, I began to prepare dinner while my children played, and the baby slept. I would bake some chicken and vegetables.

There was a knock at the door. My gut reaction was my heart sinking into my stomach in a flood of dread. Fear washed over me. I rushed around the corner to find my children. They knew the drill and were already slipping under my bed together. I grabbed my sleeping infant and phoned my husband while closing and locking my bedroom door behind me.

"What?" He sounded annoyed.

"There's someone at the door." I whispered. I knew he was sick of this, but my instincts were in flight mode, and I wanted to protect my children.

"I know." He replied sternly, "it's the lawn guy. I already spoke to him through the doorbell."

"He keeps knocking." I said anxiously. "Why won't he go away?"

"Because we owe him money, Kim. I left the cash on my desk. Just pay him, and he'll be on his way."

"I can't open the door!" I clapped back, appalled at the notion, "What if he pushes the door open!?"

"He just wants his payment. Stop freaking out over nothing! Pay the man!" Frank hung up the phone. I heard the door again. This was horrible. My hands were shaking. I clutched my baby tightly to my chest. I had to hide her, too.

"Mommy, can we come out?" My son asked.

"No!" I whispered to him quickly. "I need you to watch your sisters. Keep them safe. I'll be right back." I eased my now six month old under the bed with her siblings. She stayed asleep with ease. "Shh! Stay quiet! Don't come out!"

"I'm scared!" My son hugged his sister, "I'm scared of the strangers, Mommy."

"Then stay! I'll deal with the stranger!" As scared as I was, I had to do this in order to get rid of him. In order to protect my children. I collected the money and a knife before going to the door. I made sure to keep the chain in place and took a calming breath before opening the door, keeping my knife concealed.

"Hello, Kimberly!" Matthew greeted me, "Frank said I could pick the cash up from you since you'd be home!"

"Yes." I held the money out to him, "Of course."

"Thanks!" He took the money gingerly. He turned around to leave, only to pause and turn back around, "Say, would you mind if I used your bathroom?"

My heart sank even further, and my guts twisted around it painfully. I didn't want to be rude, but there was no way I was about to let any man I didn't know into my home. "I'm afraid not." I tried to smile, but I am sure it came off very awkwardly. "My children are resting. I don't want them to wake up."

"I'll be quiet as a mouse." He assured me.

"I can't." I didn't hesitate to deny him again. By this point, I was getting extremely uncomfortable. "I'm sorry." I clutched the knife tightly just behind the door.

"Can I trouble you for some water then?" He tried a new approach.

I thought on that for a second. "Sure. One moment." I shut the door and locked it before grabbing him a bottle of water and handing it to him through the slim opening.

"Thanks." He nodded, making far too much eye contact for my comfort.

At dinner, I was very clear with my husband. "If you aren't home, don't expect me to open the door for anyone. For any reason. Ever."

"Strangers were at the door!" My son voiced his own concerns. Followed by, "I stayed quiet under mommy's bed. They didn't find us."

"What?" Frank looked to me, "What is he talking about?"

"Nothing." I didn't know how my husband would take that news.

"We hide from strangers under mommy's bed." He said without any consideration.

"Are you serious?" Frank asked me, "You make the kids hide under the bed if someone comes to the door?"

There was hardly any point in denying it now. Like I would call my son a liar, "Yes. For their safety."

"For real, Kimmy?" He was definitely not happy about this revelation at all. "As if you aren't out of your mind enough, now you want to put this on the kids!? You want to make the kids scared of every shadow like you are!?"

"Excuse me?" I snapped, "You never know what people are capable of! Anyone could want to harm us!"

"They want to harm us?" My son asked with clear concern in his voice and all over his face. We shouldn't have been having this discussion in front of our children. But it was too late now.

"No!" My husband said.

Just as I said, "Yes!"

We looked at each other for a moment. Both of us irritated. He spoke first, "You're going to scare them!"

"They should be scared! It's rational and reasonable to be afraid of strangers! That's why we tell them not to talk to strangers! They could be bad people!"

"You think everyone is trying to kill you, Kim!"

"Not everyone!" I corrected him matter-of-factly, "Only someone! I just don't know which someone!"

"Do you hear yourself?" His voice was a bit elevated now. "No one is trying to kill you, Kim! No one! The only danger to our kids here and now is you!"

I didn't reply. I couldn't. I was dumbfounded. Completely in shock. Just staring at him with my mouth hanging open. The children were quiet, too. Them, more because of the awkwardness of seeing their parents fighting. Me, because now my heart was scattered into a million pieces. How could he say such a thing?

In my silence, he continued. His tone was slightly calmer, more like he was trying to explain himself. "You can't drag the kids into your delusions, Kimmy. You're going to mess them up, too."

Mess them up, too? So, I was messed up? And that made me a danger to my children? I couldn't believe he was saying all of this. To know this was how he felt about me truly broke my heart. We were supposed to be partners. Us against the world. But he behaved more like it was us against one another. His words were daggers. Did he even comprehend how much his words hurt? Did he even care?

I had lost my appetite. I got up to clear my plate, and he asked, "Where are you going?"

"To bed."

"So, you are going to go pout while you leave me with all the kids? Really?" It didn't appear that he understood the weight of his words at all. Everything I said or did was the wrong thing. Like I was supposed to just accept his words and not be so impacted by them?

Okay then. So, I would have to cry myself to sleep after I put the kids to bed.