Darkion
New Member
My life story, how I got to have a good relationship with Satan:
PART 1
When I was born, I was hypersensitive and would cry a lot. This hypersensitivity continued of course. Since I was a toddler, I am hypersensitive to pain (physical and emotional), temperature (hot and cold) and touch, plus my feelings are very intense and long-lasting. But I am also above average intelligent (IQ is about 120). My autism was quite obvious, but there was much less common knowledge of it back then, so my parents assumed that I'm normal. They thought my symptoms were either personality traits or that I was mean / annoying on purpose, when I was actually in pain / severely uncomfortable or I did not even know that what I said was mean.
One of my parents was paranoid, while the other was very relaxed. They argued almost every day. My paranoid parent was overly concerned about me, judged me for liking monsters and battles and wanted me to like peaceful, girly stuff. They forbade me to watch some shows I liked, they forbade me to play Pokemon games, they wanted me to learn things I was bad at or could not even do because of my disability and my actual talents were apparently oblivious to them (maybe because they were not typical girl's talents). They made me distrust my other parent, for example by saying that said other parent teaches me the alphabet the wrong way.
I tried to please my paranoid parent and pretended to like what they like, to be what they want me to be, so that they would love me, but I could never satisfy them. My paranoid parent often criticized me and rarely praised me. They wanted me to be like a normal girl, when I felt genderless, did not understand gender roles, and was just not interested in girly toys and shows. Once when I was 4 or 5 years old, they put me into ballet class. No matter how hard I tried, I could not do what was required of me. But no one knew that I'm disabled. The ballet teacher yelled at me. I was scared, so scared that everytime my paranoid parent drove to ballet school, I would pee into my pants. They didn't get me out, but complained "I always need to take these spare pants with me!". Since then, I had an inferiority complex.
Generally, my paranoid parent dismissed my feelings, told me how they want me to be, was a bit manipulative, and also told me again and again "You are too little!", "This will corrupt you!" and "This is too dangerous!". It was at least a bit infantilizing. I did not feel loved by them.
When I was 7 years old, my parents got a divorce. In school I was bullied. Being name-called hurt so much that I couldn't do anything else but scream and cry for hours. The pain was so strong, my soul would have been destroyed if I had not screamed. It was the most intense pain I had ever felt, because it was not on my body, but directly in me. I had a grain of sand in my eye when I was 6 and had to go to the hospital. The pain I felt after being name-called hurt way more than the grain of sand in my eye. But because there were no wounds on my body, my pain was not real. So the grown-ups thought. They did nothing against the bullies, instead they told me that I should just ignore them. That I cannot ignore a pain that is at least 10 times stronger than the worst physical pain I have ever felt, and attacks me instead of just my fleshy shell, that apparently didn't matter. My paranoid parent dismissed my feelings again, and basically told me that it's my fault and I should just ignore them. So I learned that no one cares about my feelings, because they don't leave scars on my body.
I don't expect anyone here to understand this. In my experience, no one does. Often I get told things along the lines of "It's just words!", "Why does that matter?" and "But it was not physical, so it wasn't that bad!".
When I was 9 years old, my paranoid parent got delusions and hallucinations. They said stuff like "My coworkers are poisoning me!", and I believed it, because I trusted my parent and didn't know about mental illness. The bullying continued of course. I also developed misophonia and was tormented by hearing chewing sounds. I prayed to God that he shall make the bullying stop. My parent let me eat in my room, but didn't get it and called it "a phase". Once they said that they never wanted children from my other parent, and they're so happy that me and my sister are not boys. I felt hurt and rejected, but pretended to be as happy as they were and hugged them because they wanted it. At the same time I had my first thoughts about committing suicide.
When I was 11 years old, child protective services took me away from my paranoid parent, because they refused to get psychiatric treatment. This was traumatic for me. Since then I was highly interested and happy as soon as I heard or read about Satan and demons. Apparently for no reason, because no one conditioned me like this and I got no social rewards for it. I didn't even think it was weird.
I got into a new school, where I was bullied again. Same intense pain inflicted on me every day, but it was not physical pain (much worse), so who cares? God did not help me, nor did he ever communicate with me, so I got angry at him. Shortly after, I was forced to live in a group home, where social workers would abuse me and the other kids if we were non-compliant.
When I was 12 and 13 years old, I had diarrhea almost every day, because I was constantly stressed and afraid. The skin on my hands was dry as sandpaper in winter. I thought about suicide every day, because my life was:
When I disobeyed, many social workers didn't care about me or my feelings. They were manipulative and sadistic. All they cared about was that I submit to them and do as I am told. Do I get an overload? - They don't care. At school, a teacher told me: "No one wants you in this school, we are all so happy about you going away!". Hearing stuff like that was normal for me. I would have committed suicide or had a mental breakdown, had I not had my first spiritual experience when I was 14 years old. To others, it looked as though I was just watching a video about Lucifer, made by a fundamentalist Christian. To me, it was life-changing. I was fascinated by Satan. I wanted to know everything about him and be with him. I wrote stories about him every night. But the dreams started 1 year later, when I was 15 years old.
At 15 years old, I got into a new school. Where I was not bullied. This totally surprised me. I still had problems there, because I dislike schoolwork, so sometimes I refused to do it. My dreams with Satan were wonderful. Being with him made me so happy! I felt loved, cared for, and safe around someone for the first time in my life. In one of the earliest dreams, we hugged eachother and became friends. In the group home I had become a people pleaser so I would not be abused, which worked most of the time. In the dreams, Satan would command me while I would often say No because I did not want to do what he wanted. He then got angry or cried, whined and complained, but he never forced me to do something.
Soon Satan helped me out with my life. For years I was so afraid of public speaking that I was unable to speak in front of an audience. Satan encouraged me in a dream, then I managed to stutter in front of class. I was happy, proud of myself and grateful towards my friend. A few paranormal things also happened:
When I was 17 years old, I got why Satan was commanding me over and over again in the dreams. He wanted me to rebel against the abusers! So I did. I fought for my freedom. It was a hard fight. I was gaslit, belittled, smear-campaigned against, grabbed by my wrists and dragged down the stairs... but in the end, I WON MY FREEDOM!!!
At 18 years old, I got out of the group home, into my own apartment. But I was traumatized. I had a huge inferiority complex, intense self-loathing and suicidal thoughts. I was convinced that having been bullied and abused is all my fault. Whenever I made a mistake, I cried for hours, hated myself, had memories of the ballet class, beat and bit myself because I thought I deserved it (never so hard that I bled), thought that I shouldn't exist because I'm a burden to everyone, my family would be overjoyed and celebrate if I was dead, no one loves me, no one cares about me, no one wants me, and if only my feelings weren't so intense, if only I would always feel what others want me to feel and be who others want me to be, no one would have abused or bullied me and I would have lived a wonderful life.
I tried to change myself into what other people would like me to be, but it was totally impossible. All I could do was pretend to be someone I'm not. Satan was with me and assisted me during these hard times. He was my light in the darkness, and a major reason why I never even tried to commit suicide. He was the only one by whom I felt actually loved, even if it was hard to believe that anyone would love me.
PART 1
When I was born, I was hypersensitive and would cry a lot. This hypersensitivity continued of course. Since I was a toddler, I am hypersensitive to pain (physical and emotional), temperature (hot and cold) and touch, plus my feelings are very intense and long-lasting. But I am also above average intelligent (IQ is about 120). My autism was quite obvious, but there was much less common knowledge of it back then, so my parents assumed that I'm normal. They thought my symptoms were either personality traits or that I was mean / annoying on purpose, when I was actually in pain / severely uncomfortable or I did not even know that what I said was mean.
One of my parents was paranoid, while the other was very relaxed. They argued almost every day. My paranoid parent was overly concerned about me, judged me for liking monsters and battles and wanted me to like peaceful, girly stuff. They forbade me to watch some shows I liked, they forbade me to play Pokemon games, they wanted me to learn things I was bad at or could not even do because of my disability and my actual talents were apparently oblivious to them (maybe because they were not typical girl's talents). They made me distrust my other parent, for example by saying that said other parent teaches me the alphabet the wrong way.
I tried to please my paranoid parent and pretended to like what they like, to be what they want me to be, so that they would love me, but I could never satisfy them. My paranoid parent often criticized me and rarely praised me. They wanted me to be like a normal girl, when I felt genderless, did not understand gender roles, and was just not interested in girly toys and shows. Once when I was 4 or 5 years old, they put me into ballet class. No matter how hard I tried, I could not do what was required of me. But no one knew that I'm disabled. The ballet teacher yelled at me. I was scared, so scared that everytime my paranoid parent drove to ballet school, I would pee into my pants. They didn't get me out, but complained "I always need to take these spare pants with me!". Since then, I had an inferiority complex.
Generally, my paranoid parent dismissed my feelings, told me how they want me to be, was a bit manipulative, and also told me again and again "You are too little!", "This will corrupt you!" and "This is too dangerous!". It was at least a bit infantilizing. I did not feel loved by them.
When I was 7 years old, my parents got a divorce. In school I was bullied. Being name-called hurt so much that I couldn't do anything else but scream and cry for hours. The pain was so strong, my soul would have been destroyed if I had not screamed. It was the most intense pain I had ever felt, because it was not on my body, but directly in me. I had a grain of sand in my eye when I was 6 and had to go to the hospital. The pain I felt after being name-called hurt way more than the grain of sand in my eye. But because there were no wounds on my body, my pain was not real. So the grown-ups thought. They did nothing against the bullies, instead they told me that I should just ignore them. That I cannot ignore a pain that is at least 10 times stronger than the worst physical pain I have ever felt, and attacks me instead of just my fleshy shell, that apparently didn't matter. My paranoid parent dismissed my feelings again, and basically told me that it's my fault and I should just ignore them. So I learned that no one cares about my feelings, because they don't leave scars on my body.
I don't expect anyone here to understand this. In my experience, no one does. Often I get told things along the lines of "It's just words!", "Why does that matter?" and "But it was not physical, so it wasn't that bad!".
When I was 9 years old, my paranoid parent got delusions and hallucinations. They said stuff like "My coworkers are poisoning me!", and I believed it, because I trusted my parent and didn't know about mental illness. The bullying continued of course. I also developed misophonia and was tormented by hearing chewing sounds. I prayed to God that he shall make the bullying stop. My parent let me eat in my room, but didn't get it and called it "a phase". Once they said that they never wanted children from my other parent, and they're so happy that me and my sister are not boys. I felt hurt and rejected, but pretended to be as happy as they were and hugged them because they wanted it. At the same time I had my first thoughts about committing suicide.
When I was 11 years old, child protective services took me away from my paranoid parent, because they refused to get psychiatric treatment. This was traumatic for me. Since then I was highly interested and happy as soon as I heard or read about Satan and demons. Apparently for no reason, because no one conditioned me like this and I got no social rewards for it. I didn't even think it was weird.
I got into a new school, where I was bullied again. Same intense pain inflicted on me every day, but it was not physical pain (much worse), so who cares? God did not help me, nor did he ever communicate with me, so I got angry at him. Shortly after, I was forced to live in a group home, where social workers would abuse me and the other kids if we were non-compliant.
When I was 12 and 13 years old, I had diarrhea almost every day, because I was constantly stressed and afraid. The skin on my hands was dry as sandpaper in winter. I thought about suicide every day, because my life was:
- Being bullied at school.
- Walking on eggshells or being abused in the group home.
- Being called insane by my almost-always-chewing-gum-chewing sister when I was at my non-paranoid parent's house.
When I disobeyed, many social workers didn't care about me or my feelings. They were manipulative and sadistic. All they cared about was that I submit to them and do as I am told. Do I get an overload? - They don't care. At school, a teacher told me: "No one wants you in this school, we are all so happy about you going away!". Hearing stuff like that was normal for me. I would have committed suicide or had a mental breakdown, had I not had my first spiritual experience when I was 14 years old. To others, it looked as though I was just watching a video about Lucifer, made by a fundamentalist Christian. To me, it was life-changing. I was fascinated by Satan. I wanted to know everything about him and be with him. I wrote stories about him every night. But the dreams started 1 year later, when I was 15 years old.
At 15 years old, I got into a new school. Where I was not bullied. This totally surprised me. I still had problems there, because I dislike schoolwork, so sometimes I refused to do it. My dreams with Satan were wonderful. Being with him made me so happy! I felt loved, cared for, and safe around someone for the first time in my life. In one of the earliest dreams, we hugged eachother and became friends. In the group home I had become a people pleaser so I would not be abused, which worked most of the time. In the dreams, Satan would command me while I would often say No because I did not want to do what he wanted. He then got angry or cried, whined and complained, but he never forced me to do something.
Soon Satan helped me out with my life. For years I was so afraid of public speaking that I was unable to speak in front of an audience. Satan encouraged me in a dream, then I managed to stutter in front of class. I was happy, proud of myself and grateful towards my friend. A few paranormal things also happened:
- A toddler (who never sleepwalked) had a nightmare, during which he was standing and said "The devil... the devil!" (I was no direct witness, but have no reason to believe that the social worker who told me about this was lying).
- A child screamed "That stupid Satan!", and immediately a light bulb in a lamp above them exploded. The child was scared, screamed and cried.
- A social worker's GPS was not working, so they said: "Now we need help from Satan!". Immediately the GPS worked. We ate at a McDonalds, then went back into the car. The GPS was not working again. The social worker said: "Now again, we need help from your friend!", and immediately the GPS worked. The social worker was quite baffled, while I was happy.
- I woke up on 1 AM in summer and was thirsty, so I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. While drinking, I heard a "click" sound. I wondered why I heard that sound when I was alone in the kitchen. Then I thought that I know that sound from the water heater, so I turned around and looked at it. The water heater was turned on. I was surprised, then I was happy because I thought: "Satan has done it! Yay, Satan is here!". I told the social worker who had the night shift that the water heater just turned on by itself. He went into the kitchen with me and opened the water heater. There was nothing inside, only orange-glowing metal rods at the bottom of it. The social worker told me to go to sleep. I was happy and slept well. At 7 AM it was breakfast and the social worker said: "What happened has made me so scared that I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night!". I didn't understand and thought: "What? Why?", cause I was not scared.
When I was 17 years old, I got why Satan was commanding me over and over again in the dreams. He wanted me to rebel against the abusers! So I did. I fought for my freedom. It was a hard fight. I was gaslit, belittled, smear-campaigned against, grabbed by my wrists and dragged down the stairs... but in the end, I WON MY FREEDOM!!!
At 18 years old, I got out of the group home, into my own apartment. But I was traumatized. I had a huge inferiority complex, intense self-loathing and suicidal thoughts. I was convinced that having been bullied and abused is all my fault. Whenever I made a mistake, I cried for hours, hated myself, had memories of the ballet class, beat and bit myself because I thought I deserved it (never so hard that I bled), thought that I shouldn't exist because I'm a burden to everyone, my family would be overjoyed and celebrate if I was dead, no one loves me, no one cares about me, no one wants me, and if only my feelings weren't so intense, if only I would always feel what others want me to feel and be who others want me to be, no one would have abused or bullied me and I would have lived a wonderful life.
I tried to change myself into what other people would like me to be, but it was totally impossible. All I could do was pretend to be someone I'm not. Satan was with me and assisted me during these hard times. He was my light in the darkness, and a major reason why I never even tried to commit suicide. He was the only one by whom I felt actually loved, even if it was hard to believe that anyone would love me.
