A Heartfelt Thank You


Have you ever felt like just sitting down to thank somebody?

I mean sure – I thanked the bagging guy today at the grocery store for dealing with me while I slipped over patches of ice to lock my son’s car seat in while he held two carts of frozen junk food with a short sleeve shirt on…

That’s not what I mean.

Saying thank you to my husband, or my children, or my family really is not appropriate – they understand that what they do for me, nobody else can do. There’s a love and inspiration there that cannot be described, understood, or for that matter, appreciated in the form of verbal words on a blog.

Allow me to take time out to give my heartfelt, genuine, thank you – to a specific person that I feel deserves credit where credit is due.

(Fun Fact #2,164 about Jenn: I invest in the concept of the paranormal. I believe in ghosts, spirits, the after life. I’ve read books, taken classes, done investigations, dealt with my own hauntings, own my own equipment…)

Sidebar: Skeptics laughing, feel free to continue to. Or you can simply press skip in your reader, either way, blah.

For all of those who are believers (AWESOME SAUCE) – you get me, I know. But becoming a parent also brought another level of belief into this spiritual resolution, afterlife, concept of apparitions, EVPs … (I could go on – if you do not understand my terminology I apologize. I know, I know. It’s like reading “stereo instructions”.)

When I became a parent – I looked into the eyes of these little beings and realized I had just given life.

When you give life – you automatically become the person or force that has subjected that little soul someday – to death.

Now, now. I am not being morbid. Think about it. I have 3 amazing, wonderful children. Each of them when they were born immediately had my heart and every bit of love I could have ever dreamed of mustering for a human being – wrapped into each of their sweet, tiny, quivering lips. They reach for me – a simple “mama…” “I want a juice box…” “I love you…” or in the case of my 1 year old … a bellowing “WAHHHHHHHHH” when the bottle falls with such force under the bouncy chair that milk goes splattering into his deep blue eyes.

These cherished moments in the mind of any parent are ones you cannot describe to those who do not have children.

“You had to be there” really fits in here.

But I realized once they took their first breaths – that someday, they will take their last.

Knowing that I accomplished such a huge step as a human – I mean, I MADE HUMANS – in the bottom of the deep depths of my often overthinking heart – I remember – someday, they will no longer be alive. That the life I provided to them – will no longer exist.

Unless -if you’re a believer like me – you choose to believe that it will continue to exist past the ability of their living bodies.

I choose to support this notion.

This belief comforts me. It brings me hope. It makes the joy on their little faces when I say “yes, you can have chocolate” feel much more like a happy moment instead of “someday – I may never see them again.”

Yes, I will.

This brings me to my point. There’s a group of people who dedicate their lives to investigating, , and I guess I could use the word PROVING – that this concept actually exists. Okay I take that back – there’s MANY groups. However, one in particular has a way of taking evidence, proof, undeniable, concrete “You just CANNOT SAY IT ISN’T REAL” type of study and brings it to the forefront of public attention. This group spends many hours, upon hours, upon hours – doing what some think is simply for entertainment – but I take it as a sincere path they are meant to be on that they intend to share with all of us. It just happens to be on television where we can see it.

Thank you – from the bottom of my heart-  to Zak Bagans, Nick Groff, and Aaron Goodwin (as well as the others involved with Ghost Adventures). If you have not watched their original documentary – well, then you are probably a boring person.

(I’M KIDDING! Stop glaring! Get Netflix and watch!)

If you happen to tune in like me to the Travel Channel every Saturday for new lockdowns, well then hey – let’s wave our lassos together – yee haw for meeting other fans of the show.

This thank you, however, is deeper. I’ve always wanted to believe that the after life existed. Since I was a child and have had my own dealings with the paranormal, supernatural, whatever term you wish to use – I have wanted to be more involved in understanding its realm of possibilities. But now – my own children in my arms – I cannot bear the thought that the moment any of us take our last breaths as a living human – that we simply see black. That we will never see each other again.

It is this crew that has put so much heart, soul, time, and persistence into proving the existence of life after death – that has helped me cope as a parent with the idea of someday ever losing my babies that I gave life to – because the evidence they have provided is clear – some of it, to me, indisputable – that we will continue to move on in spirit past our human shells of skin and bone.

To the GAC: you have put so much effort into this. You have put your health at risk. You have taken time, energy, faith, passion – and used it as a device in bringing forth how the paranormal really does co-exist in the human world, and how there is life beyond what we know here and now. Thank you. In tears I say this – because it is with this belief that I can put my little ones to bed at night and know, no matter what, no matter who goes, and when – that I am not responsible for providing life merely to someday, provide death.

I am responsible for providing life – to someday provide a road to another one, where we will come together again, and never be apart.

Quite a feat, GAC. I felt it was worthy of saying thank you.

Although I feel I could say a million more things in adoration instead – I will leave it at that.

From this mother’s loving heart: really. Thank you.

You are appreciated. I hope someday you read from my own words how you have touched my life – and that you will continue to touch that of others that you continue to stun and awe with the beauty of the evidence you present.

I was already a believer.

You just made me more of one.

Much love.


Somebody Saved Me Today: But Who?


I was driving innocently today. I had just dropped off my two oldest children in Stafford, VA to go back with their father. I was in my Prius compact car, enjoying the winter wind through my window, while listening to Zak Bagans’ song “In My Dungeon”…

Sidebar (see brilliance below):

I noticed out of the corner of my right eye – an 18 wheeler on the exit ramp coming onto Interstate 95 South.

Have you ever been to Virginia? On Interstate 95? Wacko drivers. Avoid it. 

Still enthralled in listening to my favorite song of my very brilliant idol I noticed something was off.

This 18 wheeler had nothing on the back of his bed. His bed was high. He was coming off of the exit ramp at a good 50 MPH. I was in the middle lane. It struck me then like something out of an 80’s sitcom when the answer to the question just suddenly appears within such a short time span. He was not stopping.

This truck continued to swerve and he was coming into my lane.

“He doesn’t see me. Oh my God. He doesn’t see me.”

Prius owners unite: we understand we blow the concept of the “blind spot”.

I was clutching the wheel in a panic. There was nowhere to go.

But wait. There was.

Before I could blink and say “I love cats” – I was underneath the bed of his truck. My compact Prius wedged between his bed and tires.

I began to beep. Scream.

What good will this do me NOW?

Ever seen National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation?

It can really happen. My life began to flash before my eyes. I could see my children’s faces, hear their laughs. I saw bright lights around. I could hear my husband’s voice “You’re my everything”…

Oh my God. I’m dying.

This was it. I was about to see the pearly gates of Heaven – witness the miracles that so exist from those who speak of near death experiences. For us Ghost Adventures fans, I was about to become one. This was my day. February 17, 2014. Age 34. She loved coffee, scary movies, her husband, her children, football, beer and nachos. I could see my obituary.

I had one out. While saying a Hail Mary – praying like I had always been taught in my Catholic church that I hadn’t visited in years after many thoughts of wondering about my faith – I was praying like I never had before.

Dear God: please, I am going to swerve to the third lane, I cannot see out my side view mirror. Please, don’t let there be a car. Help me.  I cannot leave my babies. I cannot leave my husband, my family, my kitty cat Macy. Please.

I gave myself an ultimatum. I kept my hands gripped to the wheel and I swerved.

Today my friends, I witnessed a miracle.

As it turns out an angel in a gold Honda Civic had stopped traffic in the third lane. He had seen my plight. He had stopped them 1/4 of a mile back to allow me time to swerve back in the lane without hitting anybody. My car went off the road – and then something took control of my hands. Instead of hitting the guard rail – I went back onto the road, and stayed in the third lane. I did not overcorrect. I did not hit anybody. My car had not a scratch.

Neither did I.

It’s like an umpire yelling when a man on 3rd steals home base:


I immediately began to sob. Still shaking I called my husband to hear his voice. I called my mother to hear hers.

Now home and on my couch with a cold beer I wonder:

What was it that saved me today?

Somebody knew it was not my time – and they made sure of it.

Could it have been my love of the song I was listening to keeping me calm?

Could it have been the thought of my husband, children, and family?

Could it have been that amazing, thoughtful gold Honda Civic?

Or was it something deeper?

I should have died today. I saw the lights, I heard the sounds, there was really no way to avoid it.

Yet I did.

A guardian angel, perhaps. A keeper of my soul.

Regardless, I’m home. I’m home where I’m obviously meant to be now.

To February 17, 2014: today was not my time. Someday it will be – but it was not today.

To the driver of the Mack Truck: learn to pay attention. You could have killed this mother of 3. And knowing me, and my love of the paranormal and Ghost Adventures, I would have haunted the living crap out of you.

Life is good.

On Facing Death


If you read my original post …. what started it all, why I blog here on The Overcoming, you will remember specifically that during my experiences with withdrawals – I mentioned facing death.

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.