A familiar Torment

itsbrisa
Jul 30, 2025
4 min read

Updated: Dec 24, 2025

Closing the Tabs in the Valley: Deliverance, Step by Step

Bitterness didn’t kick the door down.

It came quietly—like a seed slipped into the sleeping realm. No warning sirens. No dramatic entrance. Just a slow weaving… a subtle agreement… a small offense that felt justified. And before I realized it, the roots had begun wrapping themselves around the corners of my mind.

Not one voice.

Legions.

Some people call it mental illness. And let me be clear—I’m not here to deny that there are real clinical battles, real trauma responses, real chemical imbalances, and real diagnoses that deserve compassion and care.

But what I lived through wasn’t simply a “broken brain.”

It was warfare.

It was the valley.

The Valley Doesn’t Always Look Like Depression—Sometimes It Looks Like Distortion

The valley is not always sadness. Sometimes it’s distortion.

A rapid-fire course of images you didn’t invite. Flashing memories that don’t belong to the moment you’re in. Projections of “what if” and “watch out” and “you already know how this ends.” Thoughts that multiply like insects—fast, relentless, swarming.

It felt like too many tabs open in my mind.

Too many doors at once.

Confusion layered on confusion.

And here’s what I learned: the enemy rarely starts by trying to destroy you. He starts by trying to wear you down—to make your inner world so noisy that you can’t hear the voice of your Father clearly.

That’s how the valley works.

You’re alive, but you’re not at rest.You’re moving, but you’re not free.You’re functioning, but your spirit is being hunted.

The Veil Was Thinning—and That’s Why They Panicked

It was the veil.

That thin barrier between what is holy and what seeks to contaminate. And something had shifted in me—something they could sense before I could explain it.

The veil was becoming too thin for their control to remain.

The old cycles weren’t working anymore. The manipulation was breaking. The fear tactics were losing power. The numbness was wearing off. They couldn’t seduce me with confusion the same way—because my Father had already begun restoring my discernment.

And when a person starts waking up, darkness does not applaud.

It retaliates.

Their tracking became fast. Their attacks became relentless. Like they were trying to reclaim territory before I remembered who I was.

But I wasn’t abandoned.

My Father—my Defender—had already handed me the authority to cast them out.

So I prayed.

Not the cute kind of prayer. Not the polite kind. Not the “if You have time, Lord” kind.

The kind you pray when you know something is trying to occupy your mind.

Over and over I asked, “God, close them. Close the doors. Close the tabs. Shut it down.”

And every time He answered—not with panic, not with pressure, but with that still, unshakable voice:

“Let’s close them together.”

Deliverance Was Not a Moment—It Was a Walk

I used to think deliverance was a single breakthrough.

One prayer. One tearful altar call. One dramatic instant where everything disappears.

But the way God walked me out was different. Holier. More intimate.

Deliverance became a walk—step by step—like closing the doors of a chaotic house until silence settled again.

And that’s how you know it’s God:He doesn’t just remove the torment—He teaches you how to keep the doors shut.

Step-by-Step Deliverance: How We Closed the Tabs

Here is what the Lord taught me in the valley—not as a formula, but as a pattern of freedom:

1) Name the battlefield

I stopped calling it “just a bad day.”I stopped calling it “my personality.”I stopped calling it “this is just how I am.”

I named it: attack.

Because what you refuse to name, you will accidentally partner with.

2) Break agreement

Bitterness only grows where it is fed. Fear only lives where it is honored. Confusion only multiplies where it is tolerated.

So I started breaking agreement out loud:

“I do not agree with this thought.”
“I reject this image.”
“I do not partner with fear.”
“I do not accept confusion.”

Not because I was trying to sound strong—because I was reclaiming territory.

3) Close the door, not just the symptom

The thoughts weren’t random. They were connected to doors: offense, shame, trauma, exhaustion, unhealed grief.

God didn’t just want me to feel better—He wanted me free.

So I began asking Him, “What door did this enter through?”And then I repented—not in condemnation, but in authority—turning the lock from the inside.

4) Command what is unclean to leave

There is a difference between coping and casting out.

Coping says: “How do I survive this?”Authority says: “This does not belong here.”

So I learned to speak like someone who has been given power:

“Every spirit of torment, leave in Jesus’ name.”
“Every spirit of bitterness, uproot and go.”
“Every spirit of confusion, scatter.”
“Every spirit attached to this memory, detach.”

And I didn’t stop because the enemy didn’t stop. I stayed consistent until the atmosphere changed.

5) Replace the space

Deliverance is not emptying a house—it’s rebuilding it.

So when a tab closed, I filled the space with truth.When a door shut, I put a guard at it.

Scripture. Worship. Breath. Stillness. Boundaries.Not legalism—maintenance.

6) Choose the garden daily

This is the part nobody wants to hear: freedom is protected by daily decisions.

Every morning felt like a choice:

Will I stand in the garden of His peace,or wander in the valley of their torment?

And the Spirit would remind me—firm, gentle, unchanging:

“You’re in the garden, not the valley.”

Because the valley is real—but it’s not your home.

This Is the Fight for the Mind

This is the war for the spirit:to refuse the whisper,to shut down the illusion,to take back the mind one thought at a time.

Bitterness tries to sow itself in darkness.

But light always breaks through.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28

The Lesson

Spiritual battles are real. The enemy loves quiet entrances—bitterness, confusion, fear—planted in private places where nobody can see you fighting.

But you are not powerless.

If the tabs feel too many to close, don’t panic.Pause. Breathe. Pray.

And remember what your Father says: