I grew up in the rhythms of the Catholic Church: catechism classes, choir rehearsals, and a stint as a mass server. My mother was the anchor of it all. She was so firm in our faith that the only valid excuse to miss mass was a severe illness or being out of town. I still remember how she’d remind us to make the sign of the cross and how we proudly wore our rosary chain everywhere we went.

I could share similar childhood church memories with my cousins because, largely, the whole family is Catholic. But that has changed now, and it is making life miserable for me and my family. Everyone is suffering from my mother’s change of heart.

It started five years ago when she began obsessively watching certain pastors on TV. It was gradual at first, but soon we couldn’t watch anything else because she commanded the living room. Back then, we used to joke about it. We’d laugh at the testimonies—who actually believes God sends a mobile money alert of 10,000 Ghana Cedis just because someone bought “miracle water”? It irked me that these men could fill auditoriums with people waiting on every word, but I never thought it would consume my own home.

FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX

But little by little, in my own eyes, I have seen her deep devotion to God take a worrying turn. Our Catholic faith has taken a back seat. At first it was in small doses: “Oh, I am going to this church I saw online.” “I want to go and do akwankyere.” “Your uncle, the way he is behaving…” She started throwing accusations at everyone. Everyone at home has been called names—witches, wizards—throwing judgments around the house like, “You will not go to heaven if you play with me like that.”

My mother is a 73-year-old woman who has refused to go and visit her own mother. Because she travelled all the way to see some pastor, and she says her mother is a witch. Just because she is old, weak, fragile, and her skin is dried. She said she can only visit her mother when the time is right. So I asked what she meant by that. She answered, “The pastor has to do some praying and fasting for me to go, otherwise I will be affected by the spirits following her.” It’s berserk. My grandmother is 95 years old and so sweet, even though she is bedridden. Thousands of people pray to reach her height of age, and she is just throwing it all away like that.

She has refused to visit her home, refused to even speak with some of her family members because they have evil spirits following them, and even by speaking to them, they transfer it to her. Currently, she is not speaking to two of her own blood brothers, including one who is a man of God. She told me, “You do not understand how the spirits and forces work, that is why you are negligent.”

The worst part is how she reacts to misfortune. When something goes wrong in the family, she looks justified, almost gleeful. It feels like she prays for us to fail just so she can have her “I told you so” moment. The words she spews in those moments make my stomach turn with disgust.

Nobody wants to be near “Maa Georgina” anymore. Even when she shows up to family events, she comes armed with anointing oil, miracle water, and communion wine. She sits in a corner, passing judgement on everyone. The youngsters flee from her because she points her finger and tells them, “If you don’t stop using those ‘devil tails’ to braid your hair, you will die young,” or “If you keep wearing those trousers, you will burn in hellfire.

Right now, she is demanding 2,000 Ghana Cedis from me to add to the 2,000 she has already raised. She wants to travel a long distance to spend weeks at her favourite “spiritual location” for more direction.

My mother has turned into someone else before my very eyes. I want to spend time with her, reminiscing about our lives, but she refuses to look back. She says those days were “past and gone” and that back then, she was “worshipping a painted God.” It feels like half of my memories of her have been erased.

She has become completely paranoid. An ordinary wall gecko in the house isn’t just a lizard to her; it’s a family member who has transformed into a creature to spy on her and to harm her. We should be able to laugh at her trying to kill a wall gecko; rather, we would spend the evening listening to a 73-year-old woman shouting in tongues, breaking, casting, and asking God to let her enemies be scattered.

I Left Him Because He Didn’t Help In The Kitchen

It is denting my memories of her, and even my siblings and her grandchildren feel it.

This has been going on for years. No advice has worked so far, and I honestly do not know what additional advice to take. What do I do? I am losing my mind, and my family with me.

—Frema

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

#SB<>