About me
The House Is Haunted. You’re Not Crazy.
Maybe you’ve felt it for a while — that something is wrong in the house. A heaviness in the rooms. Doors you’ve learned not to open. A feeling you can’t quite name but your body has been trying to tell you for years.
Maybe you’re still inside, pretending not to notice. Maybe you’ve already fled and you’re standing on the lawn, disoriented, grieving something you can’t fully explain yet. Maybe it’s been years and you still flinch at certain sounds. Or maybe you’re watching someone you love refuse to come out, and you don’t know what to do with that.
Wherever you are, I want to say the thing no one said to me when I needed it most:
You’re not crazy. The house really is haunted.
Trauma, especially religious, trauma does something particular to a person. It doesn’t just hurt — it convinces you that the hurting is your fault. That if you confessed more, believed harder, trusted longer, the heaviness would lift. And sometimes you go back to the very thing causing the harm and ask it to heal you. And when it doesn’t work, you feel more broken than before.
I know this because I lived it. I grew up in a haunted house. I read horror novels as a teenager because they were the only stories that told the truth — that something can be genuinely wrong in a house, that the fear is legitimate, and that it’s possible to face what’s behind the door and survive it.
What I offer isn’t therapy or spiritual advice. It’s peer support.
I sit beside you. Not above you. I don’t have a destination picked out for your healing, no doctrine you need to return to, no timeline you’re failing to meet. I’ve lived in this kind of house. I know how scary it can be.
What I’ve seen bring real relief — not fix, not cure, but genuine relief — is simply this: someone finally believing what you experienced. Not having to perform okayness anymore. Your body getting to tell the truth, maybe for the first time.
That’s what A Liminal Space is. A place where the haunting gets named. Where you don’t have to keep standing guard at the door alone. Where your anger is legitimate, your grief is welcome, and your story doesn’t have to end with returning to what hurt you.
There is a way out of this. You don’t have to know what’s on the other side yet. You just have to know the exit door exists.
I used to love horror movies. Still do. There’s something about a story where someone walks into a haunted house, takes the haunting seriously, and stays — like Ed and Lorraine Warren in The Conjuring, who believed people when no one else would — that always felt like coming home to me. I think I understand why now.
I’ve lived in haunted houses. I know what the atmosphere feels like in my body before I can even name it. The heaviness. The rooms you learn not to enter. The constant guarding.
But I’ve also walked into a home that wasn’t haunted.
My cousin in Newfoundland has a picture on his wall. A handstitched Polish proverb: Gość w domu, Bóg w domu. A guest in the home, God in the home.
The same faith I’d seen used to control and surveil. But in his house it produced something entirely different. Peace. Presence. Enough room for everyone. My body knew the moment I walked in.
The difference wasn’t the theology. It was the spirit underneath it. One house uses God to watch over and judge you. The other welcomes you as if welcoming you is itself a holy act.
That’s what I’m trying to build with A Liminal Space. Not a theology. Not a program. Just a house with enough room. Where the haunting gets named. Where you are believed. Where your arrival is itself enough.
A guest in the home. That’s all. Come in.
If something here resonates and you want to learn more, I’d love to hear from you. No commitment. Just a conversation. Reach out to: loriwilliamslimnalspace@gmail.com.