3 min read

Psych Ward...how did I end up here??

Psych Ward...how did I end up here??

I've attempted to write this blog post multiple times but I just couldn't seem to tell the story right.

The fact of the matter is I ended up on the Psych Ward.

No, it wasn't for me.

Not this time anyway.

How do I put it...?

My life, and my ideas had come full circle.

The problem I've been talking about had reached its inevitable outcome.

Supposed Jinn Possession and its direct link to Childhood Trauma.

So what happened?

10 years ago I'd been in the presence of a Muslim sister whilst she was being treated with Ruqyah.

I was also helping as I was going through "Ruqyah Training" at the time.

I was present when she was diagnosed with Jinn Possession and Black Magic.

And as far as I could tell, it seemed accurate.

What else could explain the madness I'd witnessed?

Shrieking. Spitting. Rage. Despair.

Little did I know, that in ten years time, I'd be holding the same very person's hand and walking them into the Psych Ward.

So what happened that day? (present time)

I woke up to a barrage of missed calls and text messages from this sister's family.

"Call me!"

So I called and came to find that this sister was having an episode.

She was convinced that Magic had been cast onto her home and that she had to rid the house of it.

She had chucked the contents of her home out into the streets.

All whilst screaming and shouting.

The ambulance service had been called.

So when I arrived, the ambulance services were reluctant to go inside as the sister had threatened them.

And they advised me not to go in.

They also informed me that the situation had been escalated to the police and they were on the way.

Little did they know, I was pretty experienced in the realm of madness.

But what unfolded next made me sad.

She was happy to see me.

She stopped throwing things out from the kitchen window and smiled.

"I prayed you'd come.", she said.

She then went on to say, "You know what's wrong. You were there. You know what's wrong with me."

It was at this point I felt remorseful.

Because had I known what I know today I may have been able to help her or at least point her in the right direction.

Instead, I felt blameworthy for agreeing to her diagnosis many years ago.

All I could think about was how much I could have helped. How many bad things I could have prevented? For her and her family.

The police had arrived to restrain her.

But she trusted me enough to listen to me.

I, with Allah's help, managed to convince her to get into the ambulance without resisting.

I went into the ambulance with her.

That was probably the last point in which she had some of her senses.

We arrived at the Psych Ward.

A few hours later, before I had to leave, all that was left was a howling, screaming, pained being.

Why did I decide to share this story with you?

I decided to share this story with you because this is the ultimate price we pay as individuals and as a community for misdiagnosis.

We label it Jinn Possession or Black Magic which leaves the already traumatized person even more scared and untrusting because now, not only are they uncertain of their environment, they can't trust their own thoughts and feelings. Imagine that.

"Is it me or the Jinn inside of me??"

The worst part is that unhealed trauma typically recreates similar environments and their children grow up traumatized and the cycle continues.

It never ends.

My story, the madness begins here

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