Psychiatry An Industry Of Death Full Length

[Evang.Benincasa]

Originally Posted by votivesoul

Here is how I became possessed by evil spirits.

When I was a freshman in high school, late in the school year, I was in art class when the teacher came to me and told me I had been summoned to guidance counselor's office. I went, not knowing what it was about.

I went in and was told the school psychologist wanted to see me. I went into her office and she proceeded to tell me that one of my teachers had reached out to her because the teacher thought something was wrong with my behavior in class, specifically that I seemed tired and not very motivated, that I was quiet and non-participatory, and so, this teacher wondered if I was suffering from some form of depression or other problem.

I confirmed to the psychologist that I was a functioning insomniac who only slept about four or five hours a night, sometimes less, and that I had been like that since I was little kid who suffered horrible nightmares and listened to his parents scream and cuss and break stuff almost every night into the wee hours of the morning.

She asked about my family. So I told her my parents were divorced, my dad was an alcoholic who had sobered up through AA, my mom was bipolar, my oldest brother was, too, and an alcoholic, that he had tried to kill himself once when I was 8 and again when I was 11, that he used to torment me and our other brother by beating on us and putting us into chokeholds until we nearly passed out just so he could prove to us he held the power over life and death, over us. I told her that my mom's dad died when she was thirteen and her mom went off the deep end into serious whoredoms and drunkenness and my mom slept with a butcher knife from that time forward because many of her mom's "boyfriends" had tried to sexually assault her. That my dad's mom used to beat him with uppercuts, frying pans, high-heeled shoes and whatever was close at hand that could be used as a weapon. That my dad was a bar-room brawler and it wasn't uncommon for him to get into fights and beat on people until he blacked out. Etc. and etc.

And in those moments, the school psychologist became convinced I was a shining example of someone who was depressed, in the clinical sense of the word. She wanted me to see a counselor outside of school, but needed my mom's permission. So I met with my mom and school psychologist, and my mom opened up to her about all the horrible issues we all had and were enduring, plus the aftermath, and my mom agreed to send me to a counselor.

I was happy to go at the time, because I had always been a bit of a hypochondriac and a recluse who was starving for attention. So when the counselor had given a name to my pain, I was highly motivated to absorb the word "depression" into my very identity.

After seeing the counselor for the rest of the school and into the summer, after a few months, the counselor recommended I see I psychiatrist. My mom was all for it, my dad was uninvolved, and I was indifferent but willing to see him.

The psychiatrist asked me a bunch of questions about life and how I felt about things and eventually asked if I had ever considered suicide. I told him that I had. He asked me whether or not I would tell someone before hand if I was really going to kill myself. I told him "no".

And in that moment, when I saw the red flags of worry light up his face, I knew I was in a game, a sparring match, and that depending on what I said next, I was either going to go home, or face the might of the psychiatric machine. I therefore played off my answer with some weak filler I don't really remember right now. By the end of the session I had a prescription for Paxel, 5mg. Two weeks later, I had a prescription for Paxel, 10 mg. A month later, I had a prescription for Paxel, 15mg and Prozac, 20mg. The following week I had a prescription for Paxel, 10mg, and Prozac, 50mg.

As the summer came to its end, in mid-August, when the day arrived for me to start football practice two weeks before my sophomore year began, as my alarm clock sounded so I could get up and get to practice on time, I picked it up, looked at it, turned if off, muttered the words "I don't care" and went back to bed. In that one moment, I gave up on everything, everyone, and even myself. I no longer had any desire to live or die or be anything at all. The statement "I don't care" was me giving permission to whatever evil, spiritual forces that had governed my life since I was three years old, sitting on my dad's knee at the top of Pike's Peak, his leg hitched up onto the guardrail with him asking me, rhetorically "How would you like it if I threw you over the edge?".

By October of my sophomore year, I was on 200mg of Prozac, a walking zombie who shook and despaired and banged my head against brick walls and drove my knuckles into my eyes to try and blind myself. I could barely talk, I could barely stand up straight, and I could barely stay awake even though I couldn't ever seem to fall asleep. My mom panicked and sent me to a different psychiatrist who prescribed desipramine and Ambien. My mom threw out the prescription for Ambien because she didn't want me to get addicted to sleeping pills (O, the irony!).

I was becoming paranoid, having auditory hallucinations. One day at school, I began having a waking vision in which I was killing everyone I could find with hammers and baseball bats, watching their blood splatter all over the place.

I was completely freaking out of my mind, literally, and rushed to the guidance office to see the school psychologist. She came out and all I could say was "I need to go home". She wrote me a pass and I walked home.

My mom came home from work on lunch, not knowing I was there. She asked me what was wrong and I couldn't answer her. Tears began flowing down my face. All I could manage to say was "I want to go away". My mom responded, "Let it go, Aaron. It's okay". I ended up having a four hour complete psychological breakdown. I cried so many tears I dehydrated myself. I sobbed so uncontrollably I started hyperventilating. I was muttering incoherently through it all.

All I remember saying was "I don't wish this on anyone". I remember my brother coming home from school at the end of the day, seeing me, walking past me, looking at me with a totally freaked out and scared look on his face before he went upstairs for a minute then came back down and rushed out of the house.

My parents committed me to a psychiatric hospital the next day. I was there for about two-weeks before my dad got upset and took me out. I couldn't function at home, and didn't go back to school for months, as I mentioned earlier in this thread.

In the meantime, my mom became so upset with my care from the doctors she had taken me to, that she took me to a different one, a neuropsychologist who administered all these kinds of tests. I remember questions like "I sometimes wear my mother's clothing: Agree or Disagree", or "I would like to own a Flower Shop someday: Agree or Disagree".

This doctor diagnosed me with bipolar mood disorder, and took me off of all the anti-depressants I had been taking, and prescribed Lithium, 500 mg.

After seeing this doctor, I started to come out of the living-dead zone I had been in. I found out later that anti-depressants like the one I had been taking are not supposed to be prescribed for people who are bi-polar, because it will make them go insane. I became so incensed at what had happened to me because these doctors had been playing a cr@p-shoot with my mind.

I went into the world of secular psychological and psychiatric medicine a sad, lonely, depressed 14 year old boy and came out born anew into a God-hating, world-hating, misanthropic, nihilistic anti-christ who could summon and channel evil spirits at will.

This, my friends, is the kind of horror story people like Evangelist Benincasa, Esaias, TK Burk, n_david, and Amanah are trying to save people from, in this thread.

Unless you know what it's like being the demonized man hollering amongst the tombs cutting himself, screaming at the shadows and crying himself to sleep, you really can't know what it's like meeting Jesus and sitting at His feet, clothed and in your right mind.

This doesn't mean you haven't met Jesus. Don't get me wrong. But not knowing the dark pit and hell-hole secular psychological and psychiatric medicine all too often puts people into by screwing with their minds and brain chemistry, inhibiting neurotransmitters here damaging synapses here, treating you like an experiment as they dial in and try to figure out what dose of which medicine will do the trick, means you cannot comprehend and so, shouldn't speak to it as if everything with this world of "intelligent fools, Ph. D's in illusions, masters of confusion" is just fine, safe as any other kind of medicine.

Because it's not. Never has been (Freud and Jung were antichrists), never will be.

Someone who gets it:

EXCELLENT

[JoeBandy]

Originally Posted by votivesoul

No. Not any more. Not since March 9th, 2003, the day Jesus saved me.

Awesome

[votivesoul]

Originally Posted by Esaias

I read your story and it's like you're telling mine, in many ways, that I won't be posting about on the forum.

"Ain't ya glad that ya got good religion..."?

The Father in His infinite prescience and mercy, arranged for me to meet some apostolics when I was 11 years old, before any of this ever happened, when I was assigned to the same little league baseball team with someone whose mother God had saved just a few years before. She was the first and only person in my life up to that point to ever tell me about the Holy Spirit.

She said "It's like a rushing mighty wind that fills a person". Every time I hung out with her son and spent the night at their house, she always testified to me the same thing.

Years later, this family was the only bastion of spiritual peace in my life. I didn't understand why, but I would just walk the two miles to their house, uninvited, and show up on the door, desperate to be let in.

As long as I was in their house, I knew spiritual peace. The moment I stepped out of their driveway onto the street, the barrage of wickedness flooded right back in.

They let me in every time they were home, never asked why I was there, never cornered me or made me feel unwelcome. They just loved and loved and loved on me until the day God saved me. They were the ones kneeling by my side as I repented to the Lord, and poured out all my sin and shame at His feet.

I challenged the mother one day, and asked her "So, you don't think anyone who isn't a believer in Jesus can be happy?". She replied, "No, not really happy".

That made me mad, but in the days and years to come, I was glad she took a stand for what she believed and stood her ground. It helped me realize she was right. Had she caved or wavered, I might never have trusted her witness again.

[Evang.Benincasa]

Originally Posted by Esaias

I read your story and it's like you're telling mine, in many ways, that I won't be posting about on the forum.

"Ain't ya glad that ya got good religion..."?

Amen, I certainly don't blame you. My testimony of what happened to me when I was young starts at 5 years old. I told a snippet, I could just imagine what Aquila would of done that. My wife was bipolar, she believes it is demon possession. When she received the Holy Ghost she felt them leave and the Holy Ghost enter in. The true consoler, the everlasting father, the prince of peace.

Jesus is the prince of Peace, not the prince of pieces.

[JoeBandy]

Originally Posted by Evang.Benincasa

Therefore you one day might end up being lazy on the job. Hunting shade, while the rest of the crew is busy hard at it.

Hey don't threaten me with a good time!!

[Evang.Benincasa]

Originally Posted by votivesoul

The Father in His infinite prescience and mercy, arranged for me to meet some apostolics when I was 11 years old, before any of this ever happened, when I was assigned to the same little league baseball team with someone whose mother God had saved just a few years before. She was the first and only person in my life up to that point to ever tell me about the Holy Spirit.

She said "It's like a rushing mighty wind that fills a person". Every time I hung out with her son and spent the night at their house, she always testified to me the same thing.

Years later, this family was the only bastion of spiritual peace in my life. I didn't understand why, but I would just walk the two miles to their house, uninvited, and show up on the door, desperate to be let in.

As long as I was in their house, I knew spiritual peace. The moment I stepped out of their driveway onto the street, the barrage of wickedness flooded right back in.

They let me in every time they were home, never asked why I was there, never cornered me or made me feel unwelcome. They just loved and loved and loved on me until the day God saved me. They were the ones kneeling by my side as I repented to the Lord, and poured out all my sin and shame at His feet.

Awesome testimony of Jesus' total power to bring peace to tangledness.

[votivesoul]

Originally Posted by JoeBandy

Awesome

God did the same for my mom and oldest brother. He cast out their demons, literally, and saved them. They never took another pill for their depression again.

My dad He delivered from severe OCD the day He gave Him His spirit and remitted His sins.

My other brother, as well, the day God saved Him, cast his evil spirits out, and he, too, was delivered from severe OCD.

When God saved my my step-dad, my step-dad threw away his anti-depressants and never looked back.

So you can see, I've seen this kind of thing happen so often, starting with me and then my family, and a lot of other people since then, that, knowing what I know, I know God can and will do the same for anyone, as He did for all of us.

But it has to be according to HIS WAY. He will not accept substitutes or external help. He is a Sovereign, Jealous God, after all.

[houston]

All these stories...
-----
Someone said, "...almost thou persuadest me."

I'm weary and want to go home. Do you know what it's like to want return home, but don't because you don't fit? Because there's not a place for you. Maybe home really isn't home.

[Evang.Benincasa]

Originally Posted by votivesoul

God did the same for my mom and oldest brother. He cast out their demons, literally, and saved them. They never took another pill for their depression again.

My dad He delivered from severe OCD the day He gave Him His spirit and remitted His sins.

My other brother, as well, the day God saved Him, cast his evil spirits out, and he, too, was delivered from severe OCD.

When God saved my my step-dad, my step-dad threw away his anti-depressants and never looked back.

So you can see, I've seen this kind of thing happen so often, starting with me and then my family, and a lot of other people since then, that, knowing what I know, I know God can and will do the same for anyone, as He did for all of us.

But it has to be according to HIS WAY. He will not accept substitutes or external help. He is a Sovereign, Jealous God, after all.

[Amanah]

Originally Posted by houston

All these stories...
-----
Someone said, "...almost thou persuadest me."

I'm weary and want to go home. Do you know what it's like to want return home, but don't because you don't fit? Because there's not a place for you. Maybe home really isn't home.

love you Houston