I’m Not Really Crazy
For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in heavenly places.
I never planned—or even wanted—to write this book.
It’s been years since this event happened—an event that covered eighteen excruciating months of my life. I’ve only shared it with a few trusted individuals over the years. Frankly, I have been concerned that if people who don’t know me well heard me tell this story they would think I was crazy or mentally unstable. But my reluctance to share what happened to me was not just based on a fear that I wouldn’t be believed.
During this event there were death threats that both the police and I took seriously. For eighteen months my home was no longer a sanctuary. I lived in constant fear but especially dreaded nightfall each and every day. Human and inhuman voices. Noises. Threats. Cursing. Blasphemies. Objects moving. Doors opening and closing. Strange calls and visitors at work and home. The experience was simply too surreal and too painful to want to relive. For two decades I have felt it was best not to talk about my experiences to anyone outside of a small circle of friends. CLICK HERE TO READ THE FIRST CHAPTER FREE.