I Hear Voices In My Head

I hear voices in my head. They wish me dead. I thought they’d fled. They’d bled me dry and left the scene; my life in tatters but never matter. You knew the score and we abhor the peace you crave. We’ll hunt you to the grave and never stop until you drop this holier than thou charade. We know you seek the shade of sin, that urge within, that surge to purge the better man. Yes that’s our plan. We’ll drive you onwards, downwards to our special place where there depraved you’ll see the folly of your honest ways.

I hear voices in my head. Some days little more than the quietest of whispers, dormant but deadly. Just watching, waiting for the moment when they can pounce and scream, my darkest dreams alive and well. A personal hell. A broken shell. Oh well. They outwit me, outthink me, outflank me. I’d raise the white flag but they’d toss it aside, an unstoppable tide of niggles and nudges which they sit astride. They circle my brain, a runaway train which hurtles off tracks worn down by the strain. I reckon the wreckage will haunt me for days. Just round the next bend, I brace for defeat that familiar old friend.

I hear voices in my head. They say do this, say that and more. I am so bored, a whore to every fickle feint they lob my way. A ten tonne weight sits on my chest. It’s for the best if I succumb and let them have their fun. Too numb and terrified of thoughts which ought to mean naught but instead rot and scoff. They laugh at me, a broken puppet held aloft on strings of O and C and D. The fabled three. They dance with glee as once again I hop and prance to their obsessive dance. It never ends, just changes day by day to my dismay. The voices reign and I’m to blame for all this pain. My punishment for all the lives I’ve wrecked, an endless debt I’ll pay each day until I’m spent and bent. They’ll not relent.

I hear voices in my head. There is no substance to their abuse. They have no faces, shape or form. Just shadows flickering to and from, one minute there the next they’re gone. My loaded gun, they’ll say whatever needs to be done. To plant the seed and watch the need wrap round my soul and squeeze the logic and the strength from me. I fight and fight with all my might. But they delight in that. The more I struggle the more hopeless my cause. Lost in an ocean of routine, I’m raw and exposed to their babbling dreams, adrift and exposed to their prompting unseen. Alone and broken, their malice unspoken.

I hear voices in my head. They must be fed, their stomachs never full until I’m cruelly plunged again into their plane of pain. My pit is drained. Obsessions lead to compulsion which to my revulsion I obey with dismay. It’s comply or die for if I deny the anxiety spirals and thickens. I’m sickened and nauseous, detached from reality and overwhelmed at the helm of my realm. My actions condemn me. Blessed and blissful the relief is but brief as another wave peaks. Then crashes down upon me sending me tumbling and fumbling onto the shore. My very core sore to their malignant caress. They couldn’t care less. Guess it’s all for the best.

I hear voices in my head. On good days I can keep them mute, there’s no dispute or need to crumble to their will. I take my pill, I know the drill. Some say I’m mentally ill. But I say I’m mentally skilled as rafts of routines require talents unseen. If only you knew the cumulative glue I apply every day to let sanity stay; while I count and remember all year to December. No rhyme or reason when it’s OCD season. Three letters but a million billion variations coming at you from every angle possible at a million billion trillion miles an hour. One thing I’ve learnt is that you cannot exaggerate mental disorder. It is everywhere at once, a blizzard of slithered suggestions and questions. Too many to mention, unspeakable tension demanding attention.

I hear voices in my head. They shift and dip, they lift and drift as unpredictable as a flimsy kite careering across a storm stained sky. It’s quicker than the human eye and mind; one minute hovering like a watchful hawk above its oblivious prey before swooping silently to sink its talons into your soft, plump brain. An endless loop, my senses droop. I’m in the room with you, our silence magnified by the screaming knowledge that there is so much to say, to explain. But I bite my tongue for where do I start? Confess and they’ll cart me away to a hospital bed. My reputation in shreds. It’s best left unsaid.

I heard voices in my head. Then one day I talked and you’ll never guess what, the OCD hordes so often ignored and but always deplored; well they backed away and just for a day my head was clear and blue sky called my name out loud and proud. I stretched my arms, now free at last, my wretched past a distant dream, a silent scream. Today the voices are muffled, my present untroubled by a past made of glass which I broke through at last. Now the future awaits and I stand at its gates. The voices are gone. I’m alone but I’m strong. The past is their prison, my future a prism.

35 thoughts on “I Hear Voices In My Head

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    1. I know this question was directed at Steven, but since he has claimed lack of knowledge in this area, I will tell you that the content of the book “4 Keys to Hearing God’s Voice” by Dr. Mark Virkler has changed my life incalculably for the better. Dr. Virkler talks about ways to operate in faith toward hearing from God, and also about avoiding pitfalls where we can go wrong or be misled. If you are interested, you could look back into the earlier sections of my blog at missionarysojourn.com. I spent more than a year posting selected examples of my two-way journaling, talking to God. My purpose in posting these rather personal exchanges was to communicate to others that you can talk to God and reliably get a response. Those exchanges didn’t usually go in a way one would predict or expect, but they left me feeling connected to Him in a way that surpassed any previous time in my life. I am unaware of any exchange that conflicted with scripture. Indeed, the scripture that I have stored away in my heart is often the source of what I have heard. If you find any that you think is scripturally off base, leave me a comment. I can be corrected. :^)

      Liked by 1 person

    2. For me, yarnandpencil, it’s more a gentle nudging in my spirit. If I “hear”anything, I usually chalk it up to my own mind/ego. Absolutely when the voices are cruel. Discernment, I believe, comes with time as your relationship with the Lord grows and matures but I always “check-in” with scripture and another solid, faith filled friend.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. What an amazing post! Poetry at it’s best. You may hear voices, but the voice that gave you this is worth listening to. It is a masterpiece, a brilliant work of literature. One of the best posts I’ve ever read!

    On the other hand, I would hate to hear that many voices all the time. I am not very familiar with OCD – have only heard of it on and off. Sounds like it is difficult to live with and carries you up and down roller coasters, kind of like bi-polar? I’m not sure, but I will be praying for you my new friend.

    Be blessed

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You remind me of Rich Mullins in some ways. He was a singer/songwriter in the ’90s, and he was very deep just as you are. He’s on Spotify, if you have that. One of my favorite albums by him is “A Liturgy, a Legacy, & a Ragamuffin Band.” Let me know what you think! ๐Ÿ˜Šโค๐Ÿ™

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  3. Your words are powerful. They fill me with an eagerness to speak. But I find myself mute. Please continue to write. I look forward to your book. Please know there are others with the same struggles.

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  4. Wow. That was riveting. I am not even sure what that word means so I think that’s from Jesus to you! I really enjoy your blog posts.
    I too have many demons that work very hard everyday to sway me off the path the Lord has paved. Negative death with every step, they beat me down so deep some days I can’t catch my breath. Shame and guilt are my reward. Leaving a destroying wake of low self esteem and insecurity, how could I ever be enough for the Lord?
    I reach for scriptures as my Sword… that is the only way to make it go away. repeat repeat repeat, resist the devil and he must flee. grab hold to one two or three, scriptures and Jesus are the only thing that will bring life back into me. But funny how I will run to every other thing.
    Because these thoughts are always there lurking in the back of my mind. Even doing other tasks, it’s in the back with a mask. These haunting visuals, words of beating bringing my attention constantly where I wish it would not go. Second by second eventually making my body follow it’s flow.
    The battlefield of our mind, Christ was crucified at Golgotha, the “Place of the Skull.” I must take every thought captive to His control. Who does HE say that I am and what am I here for? Part of the enemies plan, is to get me so distracted and self consumed (OCD but about food) that I forget about His story and Glory.
    A dark and dying world desperate for the kingdom that is coming to shake the universe, and the many people that don’t know Him… and through me could have a chance to. But this demon inside my mind making sure I don’t write/speak or teach ONE line…but starve myself physically and spiritually to keep me captive to her lies conversations and confines.
    Anorexia Nervosa tries to hide behind every other voice inside. Keeping the focus on Me and food, I have become self consumed. Another day nothing new, can’t get out of this perpetual loop, until I scream out for Jesus to break my chains and change the game. Force my body to write of pain and remind myself and others He is the Way. Now I see greater is He that is within Me, than He who is within the World in me. Taking authority and bringing my body kicking and screaming into submission, afraid to eat, then I will force feed in the kitchen. Produce fruit worthy of repentance, that I do not agree with my gods of food and self idolatry. It hurts and every day is a test, but to kill this deadly wordly lying filthy flesh, as I go opposite of this demons unending threatening persistent requests is the way Jesus prescribed to enter His Rest.

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