I'm Haunted by Intrusive Thoughts

This is a personal story, not medical or therapeutic advice. If you are having intrusive thoughts, please speak with your doctor. 

I walked through the kitchen, gathering plates and dishes from lunch while my little ones played in the living room. The sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, bits of dust dancing in its rays. I scraped leftovers in the compost and took a dishcloth to wipe the table. I smiled as I listened to one of my twins babble and my toddler playing pretend in his cardboard house.

It’s then, out of thin air, that a horrifying thought grabs hold of my mind and halts me. Sweat tingles at my neck, my heart thumps, and heat rises in my cheeks. I grip the plate in my hand tighter, trying to control my breathing. Just let it pass, it’s just a thought, I tell myself. Then, as quickly as it came, it dissipates. But my body still feels it’s tendrils wrapped around me. 

An intrusive thought. An article on the Anxiety and Depression Association of America defines them as “stuck thoughts that cause great distress. They seem to come from out of nowhere, arrive with a whoosh, and cause a great deal of anxiety. The content of unwanted intrusive thoughts often focuses on sexual or violent or socially unacceptable images.”¹ More than six million people in the United States alone face intrusive thoughts.² Perhaps you’re one of those people. And perhaps like me, these thoughts rattle you and your faith at times. What’s wrong with me? How can I, one redeemed by Christ and indwelt by the Holy Spirit, experience these kinds of disturbing, violent, or sexual thoughts? 

As a new mom, these thoughts abounded even more. After the birth of my first son, these thoughts would flicker and flash in my mind, leaving me breathless and terrified. I didn’t dare speak them out loud or tell anyone the horrors that haunted my mind. If they knew, they’d take my baby away. I clung to my baby more tightly and fought against the thoughts with every Bible verse and good thought I could find. I squeezed my eyes shut, so hard it hurt, trying to suppress the frightening images my mind was playing for me. 

Eventually they dimmed, until the birth of my twins. They came as an onslaught against me—double the babies, double the thoughts, so it felt. In the shower, as I cooked, as I cleaned, as I nursed, as I bottle-fed, the thoughts came at me like hail in a winter storm. No matter how hard I fought to suppress them, they came back all the fiercer. What kind of mom has these kinds of thoughts? I cried myself to sleep, begging that the thoughts would go away, that horror films wouldn’t play every night as I closed my eyes or throughout the day as I cared for my family. 

I met with my psychiatrist one afternoon. I kept myself guarded. I would tell her anything, but I would not tell her these thoughts. She’ll hospitalize me, take me away from my babies, tear me from my home…

 Yet the fateful questions came. 

“Do you have any intrusive thoughts?”

I felt heat rise to my face. “What do you mean?”

She began to describe what an intrusive thought was and gave examples. Heat tingled through my body, and I felt sweat break out on my neck. My heart pounded. My stomach churned. I must lie. 

She finished her descriptions and definitions then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “They are completely normal. We’re unsure why mothers have them, but they do. They’re distressing, but completely harmless. What makes them distressing is that they’re the exact opposite of what you want to do. It’s just your brain misfiring.”

Just as the panic had risen inside me, a cool wave washed it away with her words. I repeated her words in my mind. Normal. The opposite of what I want to do. I felt tears sting my eyes. “You won’t take my children away if I have them?”

She waved her hand. “Of course not. They are completely normal.”

I began to explain to her the thoughts that flashed through my mind and she simply nodded understandingly. “Yes, all very normal. As time goes on, they should begin to fade as well. But the more you fight them, the more they will persist.”

As Christians, we’re taught to set our minds on things above, to think on that which is pure, lovely, and excellent. Of course we should, it’s biblical. But where I went wrong was assuming that if my thoughts weren’t automatically all those things, I was a terrible, evil person. I failed to see the difference between a hateful thought I created in my mind and allowed myself to dwell on, and a thought that my malfunctioning brain created and set on repeat in my head. I forgot that my frail frame isn’t just sinful but broken too, and that my Father knows that. Where I piled up guilt, judgment, and shame in my secrecy, he wanted me to seek healing and help through what he’s provided in his common grace.

As I sought help, I learned that my usual tactics for fighting off impurities within myself weren’t going to work this time. Popular Christian teaching around mental health (not the Bible) often teaches that we must go to war with our thoughts and fight them with Bible verses and good and true thoughts. But where we may fight sin with suppression, resistance, and battle tactics, intrusive thoughts thrive in that kind of environment.  “People tend to try desperately and urgently to get rid of the thoughts, which, paradoxically, fuels their intensity. The harder they try to suppress or distract or substitute thoughts, the stickier the thought becomes … Unwanted intrusive thoughts are reinforced by getting entangled with them, worrying about them, struggling against them, trying to reason them away. They are also made stronger by trying to avoid them. Leave the thoughts alone, treat them as if they are not even interesting, and they will eventually fade into the background.”³

Once again, I had to set down my battle weapons. Instead, I pictured my thoughts as vehicles passing by on the road. There’s a truck… and there it goes. There’s a hatchback… and there it goes. We don’t worry about the cars that pass our house. We don’t usually place judgments on them. We don’t run in the road and try to stop them from passing or make them turn around. We simply acknowledge them and let them pass, and soon they’re out of sight and forgotten. I distanced myself from the thoughts by picturing them as cars, acknowledged their presence, and let them pass by. 

This goes against my nature. I don’t like to be passive. I want to actively fight back against these thoughts—taking each thought captive, as biblical counsellors taught me over the years, and investigating each one to see what it tells me about myself and what spiritual illnesses I need to remedy. But whenever I’ve gone to war with these kinds of thoughts in this way, I’ve cascaded further into depression with guilt and shame over what these thoughts must say about me, meanwhile the thoughts pushed back forcefully. I’m learning that the battle with intrusive thoughts is waged more against myself than the thoughts: to make myself hold my fire and wave my white flag of surrender, to relax and simply allow the thoughts to come and go without placing judgment on them. 

As I look back on my childhood, I see how intrusive thoughts assailed me then too, and I used those same unhelp battle tactics.

I remember being curled up in a red chair in my parent’s house. I was elementary-school-aged. I was reading a novel. My mom was engaged in a TV show and my father was in the barn getting the horses ready for the night. It appeared to be a relaxing, peaceful evening. Yet I was tormented.

A few weeks prior, I had read about the unpardonable sin in my Bible. “Truly, I [Jesus] say to you, all sins will be forgiven the children of man, and whatever blasphemies they utter, but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit never has forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin,” (Mark 3:28–29 ESV). As I tried to force myself to focus on the words on the pages of my novel, the phrase, “Blaspheme the Holy Spirit!” resounded on repeat in my head. 

I clutched my book harder, squeezed my eyes shut, and shook my head, trying to will the thoughts away. No, no, I don’t want to! I don’t want to go to hell! Yet it kept repeating and repeating, seemingly louder each time. Heat came over my body, from my toes to my head. My heart thumped in my chest. It just kept getting worse.

“I’m going for a walk outside,” I blurted, jumping up from my chair. 

“Okay,” my mother responded. To my relief, she hadn’t noticed my panic.

It was misty outside, but I didn’t care. The walk outside refreshed me; it cooled my body, and soon distracted my brain enough to let go of the repetitive thoughts. I did my usual turn through the paths, over the handmade bridges, along the riverbanks and ponds. I took note of the plants and wildlife, jumped over puddles and along the rocks that lined the water.

But as I laid in bed that night, the thoughts drifted back. I fought against them and the hot fear rose inside me again. What if I’m not saved now? What if I’ve forfeited my salvation? Tears welled in my eyes as I thought of the torments of hell described in the Bible, the complete separation from God’s love. 

Then I thought of the late night youth group conversations about demons. The stories some had told of possible demonic encounters they had. What if there was a demon with me? What if it was a demon haunting me that was causing this? I curled up tighter under the pink sheets, pulling my feet underneath myself. I was petrified of demons—I had a cacophony of urban legends of demonic activity displayed in horror movies mixed with the strange stories some of the older kids at youth group told (only later in life did I realize how far from biblical reality those ideas were). Shapes began to form in the darkness of my room. I leapt from my bed and flicked on my bedroom light, then jumped back into bed just as quickly, my entire body shaking. 

The thoughts kept coming. 

Go away, go away, go away! Whatever the case, I knew I couldn’t tell anyone what I was experiencing. If they knew I was permanently cast out of God’s love, they too would outcast me. Or if they knew a demon was attacking me, they might fear coming too close. I fought and resisted until my young mind could fight no longer and eventually fell asleep, where nightmares played all night long.

If only I could gather that little girl up in my arms, cradle her and listen to her cry, I would tell her she has nothing to fear. These thoughts are merely thoughts and nothing more. They aren’t demonic activities, and they aren’t reflections of her heart. God hasn’t abandoned you, but loves you deeply. Rest, child, I would whisper, as I pushed the dark hair from her sticky cheeks. Though these thoughts are distressing, they’re nothing more than a thought. They cannot hurt you, loved one, and they cannot make you do anything. Give up your battle cry and watch them pass. It will get better. It won’t always be like this. They’ll come back again at times, but you’ll know what to do. But take hope, dear daughter, that God will bring you safely home, where our minds will no longer be broken. 

To you, reader, I say the same thing. If you are haunted and tormented by intrusive thoughts, seek help. Don’t suffer in silence. You’re not a freak of nature or demon-possessed. You’re simply hurting. Seek professional help from a doctor or psychiatrist who can give you the help you need. Find a counsellor too, if you can, who’s qualified to help you. 

As for how these thoughts have rattled your faith: God hasn’t cast you out. He loves you and promises he is near not just when you’re well, but when you’re broken hearted and crushed in spirit too (Psalm 34:18). Bring your grief and sorrow to God over what isn’t as it should be in prayer. Though he may not heal our minds now, we can trust that they will be truly healed when he brings us home to eternal life. Until then, rest in his love, look to the resources he’s provided by his common grace, and take comfort in his extravagant, special grace he’s given to you.

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1. Martin Seif, PhD, ABPP and Sally Winston, PsyD, "Unwanted Intrusive Thoughts," Anxiety and Depression Association of America, April 26, 2018, accessed November 1, 2021, https://adaa.org/learn-from-us/from-the-experts/blog-posts/consumer/unwanted-intrusive-thoughts)

2. Kimberly Holland, "Intrusive Thoughts: Why We Have Them and How to Stop Them," Healthline, September 21, 2020, accessed November 1, 2021, https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/intrusive-thoughts)

3. Seif, Ibid.