My grandfather is a Mason and my grandparents built a cinderblock and concrete house themselves, camped outside in the woods until it was finished. After I was born my family moved onto some of their land and I first became acquainted with what I now recognize, looking back, as demonic possession in my mother and grandmother. Long bouts of creative mania which secured them tertiary roles in our small town's judiciary and school systems, followed by periods of hyper aggression which always ended in week+ long migraines and short-term memory loss after their bedriddance. My grandfather got addicted to morphine at this time, so their house was never fully completed and looked like a hoarder's, littered with construction or art projects; half the time their chickens and tropical birds lived free-range downstairs. The house and land had a spirit or spirit(s) to it - as I got older I found a copy of the Book of Abramelin the Mage in my grandmother's library - and now it's clear one or both of them opened something there that was never closed. About a month after moving into their house as an adult with my fiance, we began unconscioisly mirroring the archetypes my grandparents had grown into, always the manic and chaotic harlequin versus the morose and melancholic pierrot. We became hoarders, paranoids, and detached from reality in ways we can never put back together. A short time after moving away from the land, again, I had one of my first experiences with a true psychic who told me umpromptedly that I'd picked up some force or entity that seemed connected to my family or blood. I just smiled and played dumb.