Silent Suffering: The True Toll of Living in a Haunted House
In previous blog posts, I shared my terrifying experiences living in a haunted house at 901 Sandy Shore Dr. in Bryan, Texas, but I left out some of the most personal details. The lasting mental and physical damage that the entity caused me. From the moment we moved into that house, my life changed forever.
Looking back, it’s clear that the paranormal activity wasn’t just terrifying—it was harmful in ways that went far beyond the obvious haunting experiences.
A Heavy, Dark Atmosphere
From the very beginning, the air inside that house felt heavy. I can’t quite describe it, but there was a weight pressing down on all of us.
You could feel it when you walked through the door—an oppressive energy that seemed to permeate every room. My family started fighting almost immediately after moving in. We could never get along, and it felt like we were always at each other’s throats.
The entity that haunted us didn’t just scare us; it seemed to thrive on the chaos and tension.
Even though I don’t remember much from before I was seven, I know that the house affected us all on a deeper level. The constant stress and fear began to wear on me, and by the time I was 11 or 12, I started experiencing serious mental health problems.
Haunted House Horror: How It Secretly Damages Your Well-being
At around 13, my mental state deteriorated rapidly. I fell into deep depression, feeling isolated, scared, and hopeless.
It felt like I could never escape the suffocating presence that loomed over me in that house. The emotional weight got so intense that I attempted suicide by taking an entire bottle of Tylenol, which ended with me in St. Joseph Hospital in Bryan, Texas.
They had to pump my stomach, and while I’m grateful I survived, that experience left me scarred in more ways than one.
Betrayed and Admitted to a Mental Hospital
Shortly after my suicide attempt, my parents told me we were going for a ride one evening.
Little did I know, they were taking me to a mental hospital—Sandstone on Hwy 6 in College Station, Texas. As we drove farther away from home, I started to panic. I had heard rumors about these types of places, and I couldn’t believe my parents would take me there.
When we pulled into the long, dark driveway of the hospital, I lost it. I started screaming, crying, and telling them how much I hated them for doing this to me. I was already being tormented by whatever evil force lived in our house, and now I was being sent away to deal with even more.
The Unseen Costs of Haunted Houses: Health and Mental Toll Revealed
My dad and a staff member from Sandstone had to physically carry me into the building.
I fought with everything I had, kicking, screaming, and resisting, but they still got me inside. I felt betrayed and abandoned by the people who were supposed to protect me. Once I was checked in, I met a nurse named Eugene. He seemed kind enough, but as I would soon learn, appearances can be deceiving.
Loneliness and Despair at Sandstone
My first night at Sandstone, I was placed in a room with another 13-year-old girl. I didn’t know it then, but this was the beginning of an even darker chapter.
The next morning, I refused to participate in any group activities, so they let me stay in my room alone for the first day. I sat there and cried for hours, feeling completely alone in the world. I couldn’t believe my life had come to this, and it felt like no one could understand the mental and emotional torture I was going through.
Not just from the haunting, but from everything that had spiraled out of control because of it.
Eventually, they forced me to participate in their programs, and that’s when the strange and unsettling things started happening at Sandstone. But that’s a story for another day.
Inside the Haunted House: Unseen Strains on Health and Sanity
I can’t help but wonder if the dark entity in our house had more power than we ever realized.
It didn’t just show itself through physical manifestations—it seemed to feed off of our mental and emotional anguish. It was like living in a pressure cooker, and none of us could find peace. Even after I moved out, the effects of living in that haunted house followed me.
It’s easy to brush off paranormal experiences as pure fright, but for me, the damage was real. The depression, the anxiety, the constant fear—all of it was amplified by that house. I was just a kid, battling something far bigger than I could understand, and it nearly destroyed me.
Stay tuned for my next blog post as I share more about my time at Sandstone, the strange things that happened there, and how I eventually escaped both the hospital and the haunted house.
