I’m sure many wonder – if they haven’t experienced it – what that might feel, look, or resemble.
I did not always have to wonder. Previously in life, I experienced death in a different way. I do not mean seeing a body at a funeral (sure, I’ve seen that, three times) – I saw it that day at the hospital – the second hospital trip – when the withdrawals were so bad that, again, I digress – I felt like I was dying. I saw a man covered in a sheet – his soul recently taken into the other side. Yes – I believe in the other side.
When I was younger, as I recall, about the age of five, I felt something that most think is impossible – that it does not exist, that there is no parallel or scientific explanation that it could actually happen. Yes – I speak of the paranormal.
When I was just a wee tike – riding my bike, playing with Barbies, naming my Cabbage Patch dolls (I’m so sorry I lost you in the back yard, Cindy, during the Winter months) – I was often levitated. I am not sure where this came from, or why in my complete lifetime I have faced whatever has seemed to haunt me since I was a child. I would be fully awake – my body suspended into mid air – looking down – my sheets and blankets crinkled where I once had been embedded – but I did not see myself. I only saw where I should have been.
Were you dreaming?
No. I was not dreaming. It was the same experience to the same level each time it happened. My stomach would turn, I would feel afloat, I would look down – and while being suspended, suddenly drop and hit the bed, where I had been previously before I was ever lifted.
Of course I never said a thing. Who would believe a five year old? I kept that with me for years – until in adulthood I decided to continue my fascination with the paranormal and begin to research and investigate exactly what it was – what was the other side?
I’ve done investigations. I’ve read books. I have thousands of dollars in paranormal investigating equipment. I’ve joined groups – seen seminars. It’s not exactly a hobby – well it is a hobby – but it’s more like an infatuation – a passion – to encourage the world to believe in what they may not believe could be humanly true (because facts do not support it) (unless you watch Ghost Adventures, that’s genuine evidence, I suggest just going On Demand or on Netflix – even the original documentary – and watching – you will not regret that experience).
When I reached my deepest levels of despair at hour 72 – I distinctly remember facing, and posting on Facebook – I had met death. At the time I referred to it as the Angel of Death – and at another point, The Grim Reaper.
My childhood dealings and continued research when I became older – I suppose it somewhat prepared me for what I was about to go through when I began this journey to recovery – but in all honesty, feeling like death – or seeing death at your door – is totally different than I ever could have imagined – or what I set out to discover when I started investigating the paranormal, death, the other side, myself.
My body felt twisted. I have no other way to describe it. My insides felt hollowed out, yet raw, wounded – like rubbing salt over a recent cut or wound. My heart felt deflated, my breaths felt short, tired, worn. I could have sworn in that deepest of moments – I was about to cross over.
I do remember balls of light – but it wasn’t as if I was being invited. My dreams of my Grandmother and Grandfather reaching to me, those were just that, dreams. They appeared motivational as if to say – if you are invited, don’t come – stay, face your trials, win. Even though during the dreams they would say “Come” – I felt it was more as if to say, sure you can, but you are better off with the living and sharing your story, recovering, and staying in the human mecca.
I distinctly remember inside just waiting – my eyes closed, shaking, breathing in and out, almost praying – when the moment hits, I will know it hits, and it’s coming.
It did not.
Most would say – are you not aware that part of withdrawals from drugs is – well, hallucinating. Shaking. Feeling sick. Shortness of breath.
Well, sure I am. I went through it myself. I talked to what felt like a gazillion doctors.
Yet, as a believer, I really truly feel my body felt what death may feel like upon its true entrance – its grand appearance – the charade that brings your soul above, in flight, levitating to cross over.
I had hoped really, that it would have been a more compelling experience – like an awakening – not a painful moment – but almost a happy one – a hello to all my loved ones who have passed, a pathway to Heaven, into the light, no more pain.
It was pain. I believe the reason I felt pain, and really feel I faced death and felt pain while facing death – was because it was not my time to go – not quite yet.
When it is – it will be different – I can only hope. In my deepest of prayers during those dark hours, I begged and pleaded for relief. I wanted a break – a reason to get out, to stop breathing, for everything to go away – and it did not – because I am meant to live – here, in the now.
In all of my research I’ve never believed that an actual being comes to take you away when your spirit ascends from your body. To be honest, after my recent difficult times, I do not even prefer to use the word death anymore.
Sometimes even my favorite of investigators ask during EVP sessions (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) “do you know that you have died?”
I used to appreciate this question – but now using the word death, I associate with a painful, dark, horrifying, terrifying, psychotic trip into an oblivion where your body feels stuck, slighted, crazed, pained, and humiliated.
I believe now that this question should be rephrased.
“Are you aware that your spirit has risen?”
I cannot imagine, in all my years of my own hauntings, my own trials, and now this – truly feeling like I was dying – that death (in the scientific form of the word) could really be that painful. I believe if it’s time for your spirit to rise – it will be peaceful – it does not matter how you go (in your sleep, accidentally, other commonly “painful” ways) – I do not believe you will feel the pain I felt when I really saw the Angel of Death coming for me.
And so my life has continued on now to speaking out – bringing others into the conversation, supporting, giving resources, a shoulder, if even a simple “I’m thinking of you” – I am now taking on that role. While my evaluation of the paranormal will always continue (and of course, I will always follow, watch, and learn from my icon – Zak Bagans – and his quote above is so fitting) – and it’s not just fitting for investigation of the other side.
It is fitting for my current journey – some may find my transparency, as I’ve referred to it before, as a fault – for being too honest, setting myself up to let in the negative, to look to others as a failure instead of an inspiration – but I do not find my situation to be scary at all. In the deepest moments of my sorrow on those days when my body was at its worst, my mind in the grossest and gravest of all gutters, I kept telling myself I was not alone – that despite how creepy it may be to others, how spooky, if you will, that this situation should not be so “taboo” (someone used this word today – I like that word, “taboo”) – I spoke out to inspire others, and to inspire myself as I write out my own thoughts, to continue this battle no matter how hard it may get it at times.
Do I still believe I faced death – even though my perspective has changed on exactly what it may be?
Yes. I do.
But I believe I faced death not to leave the living world – I faced it to become more in touch with my fears, to embrace those, and find that warm, comfortable, space that I once had before, and do what some believe is impossible:
Come back to life.
To come home.