Personal Horror Story Time!

I was gone for a while, huh? I apologize! I got pretty sick and was bedridden for a week. Not my usual health problems, but instead Inexplicably Potent Throat Funk (Side of Massive Ear Infection, with Pus), which I contracted from my little sister’s wife when they came to visit us. My mother caught it, too. We’re both still recovering (I can barely hear out of my right ear and it won’t pop, she’s still coughing all hours of the night), but I’m feeling well enough to do something besides sleep and play Pokemon.


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Twenty years of beating this jerk to a pulp and it still feels just as good.


The night before last, though, a spooky thing happened. I’ve been on a cocktail of antibiotics, cough syrups, decongestants and narcotic pain killers (it was a BAD infection), so I had to stop taking my anti-depressants. The sheer amount of pills was making my stomach hurt anyway, and the risk of a severe interaction was pretty high.

One of my anti-depressants is Wellbutrin. It’s well-liked because it can be picked up and put down without withdrawal symptoms in most cases. It’s good for people like me, who are super forgetful (probably as a result of the hilarious cornucopia of mental health issues) and easily misplace things.

The other is Cymbalta. You can have withdrawals off of it.

I tell you this because it’s very likely that the Hell Night I experienced was a result of Cymbalta withdrawals. My friends: DON’T SUDDENLY STOP TAKING YOUR MEDICATIONS. The doctors that assigned me all the pills (there were two) were urgent care clinic doctors, not my primary care doctor, which is probably why they advised what they did. TAKE YOUR FUCKING MEDICATION, GUYS.

So, what happened during Hell Night? What was so bad it deserved its own post?

Terror. Unrelenting, directionless terror.


The most accurate picture of Dee ever taken.


I was quite certain that if I went to sleep, I would die. Not of anything, just a general ‘yup death will come for ya’ sort of feeling. At the same time, I also knew that if I tried to drift off, for any amount of time, I would open my eyes and there would be a man/man-shaped fiend, looming above me. This is quite a silly fear but let me tell you what, I felt that shit in my bones.

I wasn’t sure what this fiend was going to do, or even the exact nature of the fiend. Would he be normal but have a spooky jumpscare face? Would he be some sort of shadow entity? A hideous wretch here to choke the life from me? Here just to stand over me and stare wordlessly, which, while less threatening, is a thousand times more ominous?


I couldn’t get this fucking lucky.


I heard voices late into the night, out in the living room, but on one of my circuits to paranoidly check all the locks (I considered going outside to check the fence lock. After I regained my ability to stand up without leaning on something, I decided that this was far too foolhardy) nobody was there. My roommate who works a night shift had long since come home. An ear on her door confirmed that she had her white noise maker on and was probably asleep.

Logically, I know it was probably other roommates, but that night, I was convinced that it was fiends. Or, if it wasn’t fiends, my roommates were talking some mad shit about their undying hatred of me. Of the two options, fiends seemed more palatable.

Every movement seemed huge and malignantly fast, so I turned off my ceiling fan and cleaned up all the papers I had. Just as well, as I couldn’t sleep anyway, what with the looming threat of death. Still, flashes of movement out of the corner of my eye were invested with consciousness and a deep longing to harm me and my dog.

Ah, yes, I almost forgot my adventures with the boy Salem.


HI-RES DOGE plus my roommate’s dog Azula


I brought him into the room with me, and he slept up on the bed next to me. I consistently checked up on him, obsessed by the thought that he was going to die. A few times, I tried to call his name while he was sleeping, and his delay in answering (what with, y’know, being asleep) was interpreted in the sleep-deprived, drugless frenzy of my mind as a sure sign of his death. What caused his death? Who knows. I alternated between my poor care of him, poisoning from all the garbage he eats, and fiends.

You may be wondering: what the fuck is a fiend? Well, calling my various paranoid fears and imagined creatures ‘demons’ got a literal Catholic priest called to my house. It has a decidedly religious bent, an idea that the very forces of Hell are after you, purposefully targeting you for wickedness.

I don’t think that at all. I think I have a lifelong mental illness and an overactive imagination. So I decided to call these things, easily explainable but equally easily interpretable as supernatural, something with a less religious connotation. ‘Fiends.’ Also, ‘fiend’ as a word has a connotation of cheesiness and melodrama. “Get back, you fiend!” “Alas, the fiend has wounded me!” “You are the greatest fiend I have ever known.”

See? Belongs in a Hammer horror film. It helps remind me that for all the fear the events cause in the present, it’s really just an overreaction, a symptom of imbalanced chemistry rather than any sort of supernatural evil. It’s something silly, really. An affection.


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These assholes were in my room, rustling my papers and bothering my dog.


Yo, but if all of it was real, would that be fucked or what????

2 thoughts on “Personal Horror Story Time!

  1. 😦 I’m so sorry to hear of your problems with your health. I have constant health problems that affect my joints and stomach and put me in pain most of the time. I know what it’s like to be too ill to do anything and all your healthy friends are like ‘where’d she go?’ (or thinking less charitable things of you) while you’re in bed praying you either keep breathing or stop doing so depending on how bad it all is. I’m glad you’ve found doctors that are worth something because I sure haven’t found any where I live that are worth anything.

    I can totally relate to you with checking on your dog every 5 seconds. I had 2 cats for many years and when one died, for a whole year after I wouldn’t let the other one out of my sight while I was home (and I was home a lot!) She was my last pet and I was closest to her out of all of them and when she got ill a year or 2 later I became even more protective of her and feared I’d find her dead at any given moment. That means she slept with me often inspite of my allergies and I would pop up at night frequently just to see her side rise and fall to know she was breathing. People say cats aren’t affectionate but I got her when I was a young child and she was not yet weaned. It fostered a very close bond and she was more than my best friend and was there for me through hell when no one else was. It was agony, but I’m fortunate to have been there for her when the end came.

    I’m happy for you that you have the courage to speak so candidly about your conditions. I’m from an environment where you are taught not to. It’s a lonely and painful road.

    And to totally switch gears (I feel like I’m jumping around a lot.) I see you play Pokemon too! I don’t know if you play the newer ones, but I TOTALLY was picturing an older Lillie from Pokemon Sun/Moon while reading your Frankenstein story! Lillie is scared and unsure but steps up inspite of all that to protect Cosmog and defy her terrible mother. I feel your Lily is along those lines too.

    So, I gotta ask; what’s your favorite Pokemon? Mine was Meowth for many years. Now it’s Liepard (I named my Liepard after my cat I was talking about. It’s become a sort of momento to me.) I’m also very partial to Bulbasaur, Arcanine, Jolteon, Sigilyph, Zekrom, Solgaleo…and many others. 🙂


    1. Chronic illness is the WORST. Speaking openly about it is one of the ways I’m trying to do it. My father taught (not exactly explicitly but definitely through example) that you’re supposed to keep that sort of thing private, but all that did was make me ashamed of myself for what I perceived as weakness. For a while, I thought I was unforgivable, but talking about it made me feel a lot more like someone with, y’know, a medical condition. Not like I asked to be holed up in bed in pain or having delusions…

      I still have no idea what’s going on with me physically. I talk about that in other articles, but for now it’s gone away. The doctors either couldn’t help or gave the classic a-woman-is-sick-quick-let’s-ignore-it answers (too fat, too depressed, please stop exagerating for attention). For now all I have to deal with is crippling depression!!! I never thought THAT’D be a relief, ha ha…

      I always felt so bad bothering my dog, he’s just trying to sleep… even when I’m not panicking, I still get nervous about him. He’s old and, according to my shit-tier brain, apparently accosted by fiends. Also people who say cats aren’t affectionate treat need to treat their cats less like dogs, in my experience. Some of the sweetest animals I’ve ever known were cats.

      You’re not alone on this road. Even if not physically there, there’s a lot of people, including me, that are rooting for you and understand. I know that probably sounds mostly like a platitude, especially since you’ve been dealing with it for so long by yourself. There’s a lot of strength in you!

      As for Pokemon, my favorite is Gengar! Always has been, always will be, knock on wood. I love the ghost type, it’s my favorite. Almost all my favorites come from it, and the others are generally aligned with folklore monsters and other such creeps. Ninetails and such like. That said, Bulbasaur is my forever Kanto starter.

      Lillie in Sun/Moon was such a treat. No one else in my circle felt that way, but I adored her. Her design was excellent, her story was touching… I thought it was very powerful. The whole Lusamine storyline was good. Different responses to abuse, and how sometimes it’s easier to stand up for another than it is to stand up for yourself. How a desire to protect someone means nothing if it’s coming from a selfish place, and can only turn into smothering and obsession. Lusamine… what a great antagonist…


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