Paralysis and Demons: A Personal Journey of Desperation and Faith

Where I come from, disability or rather paralysis isn’t just a medical condition; it’s often seen as a sign of demon possession. Yes, you read that right. If life was good before an accident or illness, people are quick to believe that something sinister caused the misfortune. And like I often do here on this blog, I want to share my story—a story of desperation, misplaced hope, and the resilience I eventually found.

In 2019, after countless misdiagnoses, I reached a point where I didn’t know what else to do. My body was deteriorating—my legs growing weaker by the day—yet doctors kept reassuring me that I would get better. “Just keep taking the steroids,” they said. But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. I had a gut feeling that this wasn’t a temporary setback. I felt that something irreversible was happening, and that terrified me.

Desperation is a strange thing. It makes us consider solutions that we wouldn’t entertain under normal circumstances. For me, it led to a lady pastor known for “healing the craziest diseases” and “casting out the worst demons.” Looking back, I wonder if I was losing my mind. Why else would I blindly follow her every word? Why couldn’t I resist? Was it confusion, denial, or sheer desperation to be well again?

She told me I was possessed. That my paralysis wasn’t just medical—it was spiritual. And I believed her. I bought the olive oil she prayed over and dutifully applied it to my weakening legs, hoping for a miracle. I attended exorcisms three times a week, submitting to rituals that, in retrospect, seem absurd. And when her prayers didn’t work, I sought out other pastors.

I was slapped—yes, slapped—countless times during these “deliverance” sessions because the demons in me were “too stubborn” and needed to be “punished.” I clung to hope, holding onto the belief that maybe, just maybe, I’d wake up the next day and walk again. But every time, I woke up worse. More pain. More confusion. More anger. And a growing sense of despair.

Don’t get me wrong—I believe in prayer. I believe in miracles. But here’s the thing: would it hurt to simply accept us as we are? Why do people insist on telling me about a pastor who can “pray for me so I can walk again”? Do you know what I’m ailing from? Do you understand the emotional toll of false hope?

Paralysis is not demon possession. It is a medical condition that can result from various causes, including spinal cord injury (SCI), which often leaves survivors using wheelchairs. SCI changes lives dramatically, but it doesn’t make anyone less human or more spiritual. It is okay to recognize that diseases and accidents can lead to paralysis, and that this doesn’t diminish the value of a person’s life.

Disability is part of being human. Throughout history, people with disabilities have existed in every community. It’s time we normalize the reality that our bodies can change, sometimes in ways we didn’t anticipate. Instead of trying to “fix” us, society needs to focus on inclusion, accessibility, and understanding. We are not broken—we are navigating life in our unique ways.

I’m not writing this to diminish anyone’s faith or to discredit the power of prayer. I’ve seen prayers work. I’ve witnessed miracles. But I’m also here to say this: let us be.

Let us exist without the constant narrative that we need fixing. Let us grieve, adapt, and find our own paths to peace. Sometimes, healing isn’t about walking again. Sometimes, it’s about finding the strength to live fully in the body we have now.

To anyone reading this who’s been through something similar—who’s faced the stigma, the false hope, the spiritual gaslighting—I see you. You’re not alone. And it’s okay to say, “Enough.”