This is about an experience I had in 2017. It changed my life for the better in a lot of ways. I was brought up in the Mormon religion, and I was married when I was 19 years old. This experience showed me who I am at my core and gave me the courage I needed to walk away from everything I knew. I am now a successful accounting consultant and single mother to four gorgeous children.
The experience taught me about our innate nature, the law of attraction, and how much we participate in creating our own world/life.
I structured this in a way to avoid placing my own beliefs in the way of the events themselves. My perspective is flawed. I am human, and my beliefs shift as I learn and grow.
Surviving Rebirth = New Life:
I cannot explain how this happened. I can tell you I have had multiple doctors verify that I am sane, that the event is not related to mental illness, and as far as modern-day medicine is concerned -- they cannot explain it either. I saw many doctors, trying to understand what happened. The only official diagnosis I ever received was PTSD, caused by the experience itself, diagnosed about 18 months after the occurrence.
Words and ideas that come close to explaining what happened to me: spiritually transformative experience, rebirth, awakening, enlightenment, but to be fair I don’t know enough about any of these to make a claim, so I won’t/don’t.
How did I achieve this? I’m not sure if it is something I did, or something that happened to me, or a combination. If I could point out a route that got me there it would be a combination of love, persistence, intuition, meditation, and law of attraction.
How has it affected me? I am not who I was before. I am new. I am. ME.
My stomach was hurting me significantly the day I died but didn’t die. It wasn’t anything dramatic, but it was painful. I had a food allergy and somehow consumed the food that triggered painful ulcers. The ulcers got so bad one year that I had an endoscopy and they discovered six ulcers, one close to bleeding, which can get dangerous. Over the past few years I had experimented with my diet and discovered which foods hurt -- but on this particular day, I must have had something without realizing it -- it happens #foodallergies.
I went to bed that night after getting my children to bed and after my regular meditation, in some pain, but it was tolerable. I fell asleep easily, nothing felt different, I had no concept of what was about to hit me and change my life, change me to my core.
Saturday 4:00 AM:
I wake up. I hear the most incredible song, symphony. It was heartbreakingly stunning. Heart-breaking. No explanation of why I was hearing this, and I can tell you I didn’t hear it with my physical ears. My husband was sleeping soundly next to me.
This song lasted about four minutes. As it played I was flooded with images, memories, moments of my life, and as it was playing it was obvious to me that it was MY LIFE being played for me in the form of a symphony. It was the hard moments, the happy moments, the stale moments – all in the form of a symphony. ‘My song’ -- as I have come to call it -- was paired with the song of my surroundings, my city, state, country, planet and universe. The pieces were distinct; I could identify what was “me” and what was my environment, but it was also one universal song, in harmony. It was humbling. It was beyond words.
The song played quickly, in a few minutes was my whole life. When it finished I was able to think back to specific moments in my life. Moments where I felt the most guilt over decisions I had made. Specifically, a moment when I had cheated on my ex-husband when we had been married only a few years. As I focused on this memory, I didn’t see what happened, but rather I heard how the pattern and sound of my song changed, it was a deep base moment in my life. The whole year leading up to and after I cheated was a soulful, deep base year. This moment in time was forever altered in my mind after this experience. I was able to view this event without judgement. It was a different note, a different tone, but it wasn’t ‘evil’ or ‘bad’. I wasn’t evil or bad for doing it.
I grew up in a strict, Christian church. At the time this experience happened to me I had been researching and studying the history of my church as well as other religions and philosophies. I had developed a love for meditation and had been doing it regularly for over six years when this event occurred. During this moment in the experience I had, I was awake; I was aware and I also felt meditative. If you meditate, you know the moment when you reach the space that feels timeless? The moment when you are released from the physical, and yet still present? But the moment your mind consciously grabs on to this moment, it also ends. During my experience that night, I was both consciously aware and somehow in the timeless flow state.
This dance of my memories and my symphony continued for hours. I wrote a portion of it down while it was occurring. I wrote the concept down in the way I understood it at the time. I wrote the concept of non-judgement, of the dance and flow of our life and our universe. I wrote about the symphony of Christ/God/Source, the Christ family, the Christ concept and how it brings all our songs into a perfect balance with our universe. My concept of a Christ changed, became more real, and expanded beyond what I was taught growing up. Suddenly, I was a sort of Christ as well -- with a song, a note, and a symphony that brought others into harmony just by being my authentic self. This sounds like a drastic claim, but when any of us find our authentic self, we are Him because we come from Him.
Saturday 7:00 AM:
This symphony slowly fades. I am wracked with humility, with a concept that I am a co-creator, with the concept that I am not being judged, with a concept that I am not just divine but I am divinity, and at the same time I KNOW that that my co-Creator has done and will do more for me than I can ever grasp. That there is nothing I could do in my lifetime to fully repay that which created me, except to fully embrace who I am at my core, because that is how I fully embrace my creation/creator.
I’m flying high. I’m in a state of total peace. Total. Peace. My children start waking up. I hold them with this new understanding of the universe, of who they are, of who I am -- and I live my Saturday like every Saturday before, except I am changed. Breakfast, chores, playing, simplicity with my beautiful family, and even the stale moments are beautiful.
Saturday 3:00 PM:
Concepts of the night before keep flooding through me throughout my day. It wasn’t overwhelming; it was like a steady stream. I was drinking as I was ready from a fountain of knowledge. I was able to function and do mundane, daily tasks and at the same time almost download universal concepts on tap.
Late afternoon a concept was presented to me that because of the change I had overnight, my body was changed. The food allergies I had wrestled with for over 6 years now were gone. The ulcers that were hurting me the day before were gone. I noticed my stomach was not in pain, when it was in pain almost consistently for most of my adult life. The pain was gone. I hadn’t noticed earlier because sometimes the pain was mild and I didn’t pay attention to it. But today, it wasn’t mild, it was gone. It wasn’t just gone, but I KNEW I wasn’t allergic to these foods anymore.
When it hit me, I said to my husband: “I want a crepe from Village Inn. I can eat it now without getting sick!” He looked at me like I had lost my mind. He reminded me how sick I get when I eat there. He knew I had an experience that night, although at the time neither of us understood the true impact it would have on our lives. He gently discouraged going to get a crepe because of my history. “Trust me,“ I said. “I won’t get sick from it anymore.”
As I got ready to go to the restaurant I hadn’t been to in years, I was flooded with a concept. “You are going to die.” “You are dying.” Somehow I knew if I kept pulling on this string that I couldn’t comprehend, I was pulling my death closer. I also couldn’t not pull. I felt so much peace, even with the concept of death looming over me. I had to test out my new self, my new body. I had to.
As we drove to the restaurant, I was given the impression that I had a ‘physician’ with me to watch over this event. To trust this physician like I trusted the doctors that helped me to deliver my four babies. What was coming at me was not going to be a strictly painless experience, but that what was coming would be worth the labor pains. I was sure I was going to die on the way to the restaurant. I was peaceful. I didn’t die.
At the restaurant:
I ordered my crepe. My favorite meal. If I were on death-row, I would order this meal and I hadn’t had it in years because of the pain it caused. Usually the pain would hit within 5-15 minutes; occasionally I would instantly develop blisters in my mouth before it even hit my stomach.
First bite -- my whole family is staring at me. My children know I get sick, my husband is waiting for me to bend over in pain. No pain. I waited a few minutes before taking my next bite. No pain. I started laughing. My body changed overnight. I cannot explain this, but it did. After years of restrictive eating, after almost a lifetime of ulcers. No pain. I finished my meal, my husband still watching me for signs of pain that never came, and still to this day are gone. Although I still get ulcers with too much anti-inflammatories, I was no longer allergic to food.
Leaving the restaurant:
I’m putting my children in the car, in the carseats -- I have two babes in carseats at the time -- so this takes time. I’m buckling the last one in, completely serene, when something happened to my heart. It was a physical reaction, and although I don’t understand why this moment was important, I know it had something to do with the actions I took. Pulling on that string without fear. Driving to the restaurant, knowing I was driving towards my own death, and not fully understanding what that meant.
What is felt like: I was standing outside the car. My heart felt like it expanded, stopped, expanded, and started. It wasn’t painful, but it was dramatic. I stopped moving, I stood completely still as my body responded. I can’t explain why this was significant -- but the same universal knowledge that was flooding through me told me I was changed. My body was reacting, was shifting.
The rest of the night -- nothing out of the ordinary. I knew instinctively I would never be the same, but my world as I knew it was just like it was the day before. It was a Saturday night. I got kids to bed, spent time with my husband, and went to bed planning on church the next day like we did every Sunday for most of our marriage, and like I did most of my life.
Sunday Morning 6:00 AM:
I woke up earlier than normal. I have never been a morning person. But I woke up with a desire to write and to meditate before the rest of my family woke up. As I wrote I was in a meditative state, I wrote about moments as a child when I felt ‘timelessness’ and concepts of the universe came to me. I called it “Her”.
Sunday Morning 9:00 AM:
Church. At church I am naturally meditative. I always have been. I’m introspective, attentive and hungry to understand who I am, what I am, and why. What do I need to do to be more, what do I do to be what I am supposed to be? I’ve always been hungry to understand life on a very deep level.
There are a few things that happened that morning, some things I have never spoken out loud because of what they mean to me.
After the main meeting, I took my third oldest child to nursery; my husband wasn’t feeling well so he went home with our youngest, and I stayed with the older three. My third oldest son had a hard time in nursery so I generally stayed with him, letting him get used to it. I went in, spoke with the nursery leaders, exchanged small chat and sat with my beautiful son. The universal knowledge picked that moment to open up my mind again. I was watching my son, listening to the conversations around me, although I wasn’t participating at the moment.
I heard the nursery leader sitting next to me saying she had been sorting through personal items in her home that week. At that moment she was also sorting through toys in the nursery, and at the same time I heard another level of conversation. I heard what her higher self was saying, describing. She wasn’t just sorting through physical items, in her home and at the church. She was sorting through truths. She was sorting through truth at such a level that her physical body was creating the experience in the form of a type of spring cleaning in her home as well as in other environments.
She was speaking to her husband about this, and I heard his response both with my physical ears, and with the universal ears; he was supportive of her search, journey. Both on a physical level and as his higher self. They both seemed at peace -- they were in harmony with themselves on all levels. Mentally, spiritually and physically. It was an interesting dance to watch. It was also very intimate and the ability to hear the conversation in this way was only momentary. It was just a glimpse.
Still in this meditative, introspective state, I understood that I was to watch my son very closely. I was able to hear and understand his guides on a level I couldn’t normally as an adult. I applied too much logic to my every move to listen at the level a child can. I felt that I should watch him and follow him. At the same time I got this impression, my son went to the door, wanting to leave. I opened it.
I followed him down the hall, until he stopped at a drinking fountain. As I helped him get a drink, two men came walking down the hallway. They were discussing something that had happened with a sport star at the time. I don’t follow sports so I wasn’t very clear on what had happened in the news. But they were arguing on the impact his actions had on their children and on the people that follow him. One man (who was a church leader in my ward at the time) argued that as a sports person who was watched and followed by so many people, this person had a responsibility to behave a certain way. That as a famous person, he should be a better example. As I listened, I could hear truth in it, and agreed to a certain point. Then the other man (someone I hadn’t met before) argued that it was a waste of energy to be upset by someone or something outside our scope of control. He said it is our responsibility to own our decisions, and teach our children the same. We can’t base our actions on something someone else is doing, we shouldn’t be reactive based on something outside of ourselves, and if we have a good understanding of who we are, it doesn’t matter what someone famous does or some leader does. THIS. THIS felt like a higher truth to me. It wasn’t that the first man was wrong, but it was a concept based on a lesser truth. The second man was arguing a higher perspective.
At the moment I connected with the concept of the second man, the universal knowledge that had been feeding me all weekend gently prodded me to give my support, energetically, to this second man. I never spoke a word, and this was all happening while I helped my son get a drink. I looked at the second man, I fed him the same kind of energy I would if I were actively in a conversation with him. As I did this, I watched as the second man got more and more passionate about his stance. As he got more passionate so did the first man, and in the middle of the hallway at church they raised their voices to a very passionate level. They both recognized they had made it there and shut the conversation down as they walked away from where I was standing. I am certain neither of them knew I was present, nor the impact the entire exchange had on me.
I continued to watch my son. He walked from the drinking fountain and sat on a chair outside the door to our Bishop’s office. Keep in mind that I was raised in this church. I studied scripture but did not memorize it well. However, I did have a belief in them, and in Christ -- even though my beliefs have altered a bit since, I cannot deny the concept of a Christ – I believe He is more than one being, and more than what we understand, and he is also me. But the concept remains.
As I sat with my son outside the Bishop’s office, I ‘knew’ he (the Bishop) wanted to talk to me. I was given a certain time to wait. I was told to wait until 10:26. The time was significant because a week later I met with the Bishop and he was late to our meeting, but I knew he’d arrive at 10:26, and he did. My husband witnessed this -- both my prediction and that it was true.
After I waited a few minutes, until the time said 10:26, the universal knowledge told me to knock. Typically, you don’t knock on the Bishops door when its closed. I knocked with no response. As I knocked, I felt the whole being of Christ move through me, and I was flooded with multiple scriptural passages where Christ knocks at a door. I could recite them with perfect memory in that moment, and some were scriptures I had no memory of reading. This moment was significant. This same universal knowledge -- which I tend to refer to as my higher self -- essentially gave me permission that day to leave the church I had always known.
I gathered up my kids, halfway through their classes at this point, and since my husband had taken the car, we walked home. I felt nothing but total serenity walking away from something that I had always known. A church that was essential in my upbringing and to this day still influences me in a big way. I have never felt bitter or angry that I was in it as long as I was because it was part of creating what I am now.
As I walked up the hill in our beautiful neighborhood towards my beautiful home, I was experiencing a stream of downloads again about who I am, and what was happening to me. I am Eve. I am Christ. I am Earth. I am Sky.
I was breaking something and fixing something all at the same time. It felt personal, it felt global. It felt significant and like a whisper all at the same time. I was a bridge or a door between worlds and concepts. The wind was teaching me. I could feel energies around me that are beyond comprehension. I was more than I could imagine, but not just me, all of us. Something big was coming.
Throughout the day, my mind was expanded. I could see an inner-meaning in all things around me. I could read scripture and see a meaning beyond anything I could have grasped prior to this experience. Nothing was frightening in them. I saw all of it with almost a bird’s eye view.
It was a regular Sunday other than the wild expansion I was experiencing. I made lunch, played games with my children, made dinner, had conversations with friends and family about insights I was gaining that weekend, still not expanding completely on the level at which I was experiencing it. I played the piano at one point and was able to play a portion of my song of the moment which I was experiencing in that moment. I was simultaneously learning and completely surrendering to all that is.
Sunday After Dinner:
We were playing games as a family. My son had been complaining of mouth pain on and off throughout the day. At bedtime he came to me and said the pain had gotten drastically worse. At first I thought perhaps he was stalling bedtime, so I just walked to the medicine cupboard to get him medicine. But as I turned and looked in my son’s eyes I could SEE, almost mathematically, that his infection in his mouth had reached a point that it needed immediate attention.
My son has misleadingly chubby, adorable cheeks. It was difficult for my husband to see the swelling underneath that I could see. I could see it with my physical eyes, but there was something else, a pattern, a potentiality, that I could see in him. I knew he needed to go to the hospital. I was as sure of it as if I had seen a fire, and I needed to put it out. But I wasn’t in a panic either. It was a completely solvable situation. We had the medicine he needed, but not in my home. He was the fire, and the bucket of water was in the hospital. My husband was not convinced.
I placed a phone call to my sister who is a Nurse Practitioner. I asked her if there was a point where a tooth infection could get dangerous. He didn’t have a fever, but I still knew it needed to be addressed. She said it could be dangerous if it started swelling into his eye. From where I was standing, that’s exactly what was happening.
As we discussed what to do, a snowstorm started up. When it started snowing my husband became even more against me taking my son to the hospital. He did not see an issue with my son, and truly felt I saw something that wasn’t there. I remember saying, “I can’t change what you see, I can only act on what I see.“
I felt so calm, and I was so sure of what I needed to do that the discussion was short, and we didn’t quite make it to an argument. This whole conversation was life-changing for me and I refer to the confidence I felt in that moment very often. Any time I’m in a situation where I don’t see eye to eye with someone, I’ve found I don’t have a need to change their mind, I can own my truth and my actions.
My son and I left for the hospital in the snowstorm. At the time, we lived in a home up in a mountain area in Southern Salt Lake Valley. Anytime a storm hit the area it was exaggerated in the mountains where we lived. If the valley got a few inches, we would get a few feet. When it stormed up there, it really stormed. This was one of my favorite things about living there. As I drove down the mountain, the storm picked up. Trees were in the road, wind was insane, and the snowfall was so heavy it was hypnotizing. I wasn’t afraid, but driving in snow was never frightening for me.
But in that moment, in my calm, serene moment in the center of a storm, driving my son to the hospital for an infection, I was flooded with an impression. “You and your son will not survive this trip.” I stayed calm. I remembered my impression the day before where I was told to trust the process I was going through. In that moment, in the storm, facing my death in the most real way I ever had before, and quite possibly the death of my child too, I said, “I surrender, but, if at all possible, don’t let my son feel pain.” I was calm. Trees were falling in front of my car. Calm. I was looking at death straight in the eyes.
Calm. The words of a scripture came flooding into me, through me and out of me. “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.” This is all I consciously remember of this particular scripture, but at the time I knew it like I was reading it, like I created it. I was not saying it out of fear, it was a statement. I was not afraid. In the shadow of death. I was not afraid.
I’m now about 6 minutes from home, going down the steepest part of the hill. Knowing I had to keep going, I had reached a point of no return, although I can’t explain how I knew that. I’m feeling so much peace as I drive and I felt something happening to my body again physically. This time it wasn’t my heart. From just below my chest to the top of my pelvic area, it felt like someone had placed a heat pack on me. The temperature was comparable to getting in a hot tub. It felt so good to me. Although I cannot explain this phenomenon, it is something that has happened to me more than once since the first time I experienced it like I’m describing now. It seems to coincide with life events that give deep healing. The heat started when I as only about 7-8 min from my home, still about 30 minutes from the Children’s Hospital. The snow was mesmerizing, and I kept my breath steady as I calmly waited for my moment on earth to end.
Then, Oneness. I’m on I-215 at this point. The time from the onset of the heat and this next moment was about 15 minutes. I am no longer alone in my car with my son driving in a storm, possibly to my own death. I am now somehow everything, but still me. With the religious background I had growing up the only words I had to describe it at the time was that my Father in Heaven was in the car with me. That His spirit was so beyond words that somehow everything that was Him was also Me. I was one with all there is, and I was aware of all things at once. There aren’t words for this. Even as I try to describe it, my mind fights me. Our minds cannot comprehend this, so our words can’t capture it.
I did not ask questions in this state, I didn’t need to. Everything was as it should be, and I had complete peace. I was in this state of being from the State Street exit until about 4 minutes after I took my exit. In total I remained in that state of being for about 15 minutes.
I started to come out of this state as I realized I had made it down the mountain, and off both freeways without incident. This was the first moment it occurred to me that I would make it to the hospital alive. I pulled over at this point to navigate the rest of the way to the hospital. As I pulled in, I honestly was a little confused. We lived.
Sunday Night, At the Hospital:
I walked into the hospital. A portion of myself processing what had just happened, while the rest of me went into full Mom-business mode and the ER. “What brings you to the ER?” The strangest thing about this moment in my experience was that no one would look me in the eyes when we were interacting. As I looked around the room and made connections, no one would look at me. Including those helping me directly. It was a strange sensation.
There was only one person that did make eye contact with me. He was a volunteer there at the hospital, and as I scanned the room in deep thought, he locked eyes with me, smiling. If I didn’t know better, I would say somehow he knew what I had just gone through, and maybe on some level he did. I can’t be sure. When I looked back at him, I felt an intense wave of gratitude pouring out of him. I returned the energy.
We proceeded to check in. My son, sitting calmly next to me, completely unaware of the completely transformative experience I had just had/was having. I smiled and winked at him as we walked into his room in the hospital.
Sunday Night, the Doctor:
My son and I waited patiently in his hospital room, and his cheek had swollen to twice the size from the time we left our home to the time we made it to our room in the hospital. It was now plain to see for anyone looking at him. It was swelling into his eye area and the rate at which it doubled in size was not surprising to me, but it was alarming.
There was a child in a room across from us screaming, and my son suggested we say a prayer for him. I said it, as my son was in discomfort, and as I finished up our doctor walked in.
The doctor was able to quickly diagnose my son as his symptoms were apparent at this time. He turned to me and I heard him say, “He is going to need an IV antibiotic.” I looked at my son, who was familiar with what an IV was because I had them everyday for three months the year prior, due to difficulties in my pregnancy. My son’s eyes got big, knowing what was coming, but he didn’t squirm. I nodded my head, as I half expected that answer.
The doctor gave me a run-down of what to expect over the next few days and at what point to bring him back in, one of these signs being that his wound swells to twice its size in a small amount of time, I informed him that exact thing had happened that night. The doctor left.
I talked to my son to prepare him for the IV. He asked me questions, I replied honestly, and I even gave him a pinch so he would understand what was coming. My son was apprehensive but calm as we waited for the nurse to bring the IV bag in.
When the nurse did return however, she brought us a bag of pills and a check-out form. My son and I looked at each other in confusion. We had both heard the doctor say that my son needed an IV. The nurse told us the doctor had ordered pills, not an IV, and she could see that I was uncomfortable with that solution. The nurse could see the confusion in my face and said, “If you’re concerned, speak up.” I simply said, “I’m concerned.” She smiled, and went back for the doctor.
The doctor entered the room almost immediately after and addressed our concerns. “Doctor, I thought you said he needed an IV.” “No, I didn’t mention an IV. However, he is borderline, and I can give him an IV if you feel like he needs one.” “I feel like he needs one.” They ordered an IV.
Since this took place, I have thought often about the full exchange. Why did my son and I hear something completely different from what the doctor had said? Anytime I try to answer that question I also think back to the moment in church earlier that day when I had heard the physical conversation as well as the spiritual conversation of the people around me. The only answer I have for this is that I must have heard what his higher self was saying. He was on the fence about the IV according to our second conversation, and it made me wonder if his Higher Self knew my son needed it, while his physical self wasn’t sure it was at that level. Of course, this is just not an answer I’ll know in this lifetime.
The IV was brought in. I held my son’s free hand and coached him to look at me instead of the needle. I tried to distract him by asking him what colors he saw in my eyes and encouraged him to keep finding different colors until the nurse had finished getting the IV in. He barely flinched through the whole process, his cute little cheek the size of a golf ball at this point.
We just sat and cuddled while the IV finished, the nurse and doctor gave us check-out papers, and we proceeded to leave the room. As we crossed the threshold of the hospital room I distinctly heard, “It is done.” And at that moment my son stopped in his tracks because his infection had burst inside his mouth giving him some much-needed relief. We left the hospital.
As we started our drive home, I started to feel like the whole event I had experienced over the weekend was starting to fade. I had wondered if the full thing took place just so I could get my son to the doctor, even though I am not convinced it was life-threatening. I was just in awe of the whole thing and was starting to process.
On the drive home I was very tired. It was close to three in the morning at this point. So to help me stay awake, I turned the radio on. My son had fallen asleep almost immediately. As I turned the radio on there was a song on that I had heard a million times. I can’t even remember what it is anymore, but it was a typical pop/R&B song. One about a man wanting a woman. As I listened, I felt a strange sensation in my body. I felt insanely sensual, as if the words were touching me. Then as my body responded to the sensations I was flooded with a concept. A concept of a male energy that was in love with me, needed me, craved me beyond words. I was leaning into these sensations. The sexual energy, the concept of being loved on that level, it was different than the love I had felt all weekend though. I started to notice the difference as I was leaning in. This energy didn’t just love me, it wanted to possess me. I don’t mean possess my body like a horror film, but it wanted to possess everything I am. To own me.
“You will always be safe, but you will be mine.” I heard this as I felt the energy wrap up my body and around my neck. I got a download of a concept of what it meant to be possessed by this energy. I would be protected, I would be wanted, loved in the way I was feeling at that moment, craved, desired, but I had to be obedient to it and fit a mold. The love I had been feeling all weekend was the opposite of this. This protection and love would cost me and was conditional on me always doing as I was told, like a good girl. But not ‘morally’ good. ‘Good’ according to his whims and ideas of what suits him.
I started to feel claustrophobic. My chest tightened. I held my breath. The energy was overwhelming, almost felt like a god. The concept both sensual and frightening, the level at which this energy wanted to possess me was more intense than I can put in words. I quieted my body, I quieted my mind, I turned off the music and simply said, “No.”
A rush of intense anger came at me. It was anger filled with heartbreak, it was wailing, gnashing, screaming, and then it was gone.
This all took place in under a few minutes, but it took me two years and EMDR therapy to get to a place where I could even speak of it. I didn’t vocalize it for a very long time because of its nature and intensity. I don’t let it control my emotions anymore.
At this point I was barely on the freeway a few miles. My car was silent. My son was soundly asleep and I was reflecting on the Oneness I felt on my drive to the hospital. “If we are one, we are also alone.” I thought.
As if my words were everything, I was transported to a space in that moment that I have only one word to describe: the void. It was similar to the experience I had when I felt Oneness, but instead of being a part of all living things, I was the ONLY living thing.
The best way I can describe it is -- it was as if I was alone, in space, in the universe. I was an eternal being, I was aware, conscious, alive and incapable of death, and I was alone. Not just alone, but nothing existed outside of my awareness. It was like a black hole. I stayed in this void from the Ft. Union Exit on I-215 to about 106th South on I-15. The distance is about 8 minutes. As I experienced the void, it felt like pure torture. I remember thinking it would be easier to have been kidnapped and physically tortured than to have endured complete nothingness where only I existed.
This is another portion of what I experienced that took me years to speak of, as well as therapy to recover from. This eight minutes gave me PTSD for a long time.
While in the void I wasn’t panicked. I was in a form of shock momentarily, and I wasn’t sure how to get out. I thought of space movies I’d seen before, I thought of what kept them safe, their equipment, the tethers to the rockets to keep them attached to something. I thought of a tether or a cord extending from myself to the only energy I had felt complete safety with, and that was the Christ energy. The energy that had started the experience with my life review two days before. I tethered myself to my concept of Christ, and I was not alone any more.
By the time I arrived home I was exhausted beyond words. Any parent who has taken their child to the ER in a snowstorm and gotten home late knows the kind of tired I’m speaking of. And on top of that I had been though heaven and hell – quite literally -- over the past two days. Sleep was all I wanted.
I dropped into bed close to 3 am (?). I was up at 5. But this time wasn’t like the other two mornings when I had total clarity. I was scattered. I was awake, it felt urgent to be awake, but I had no clarity. I got up, went downstairs to meditate, and found it harder than normal. This was a frequent practice for me at the time, but I found it really difficult.
Instead, I curled up in a ball on the living room floor and that’s where my husband found me. He encouraged me back to bed as I only had about an hour left to catch up on sleep before he went to work. I crawled back in bed and slept the remaining hour, I was barely aware of my husband leaving, and my oldest son was taking his siblings downstairs so as to not disturb me.
As I woke up this time, I woke up planning my own death. The hells I had experienced the night before, coupled with feeling like a prisoner in my body, and missing the sensations of heaven I had felt, my entire system was overwhelmed, and my only solution was to die.
I thought about shooting myself. But was concerned about my children hearing it or finding me, as well as my husband having to clean it up. I thought of taking pills but worried about the doctor who had prescribed them to me and didn’t want to cause any issues with him. I was trapped.
I paced my room, and finally reached out to a family member, my oldest sister. I started to tell her pieces of what happened to me over the weekend. It was life changing, I knew that, but now I felt desperate to get home -- to my real Home. She listened patiently and mentioned a news article she had seen earlier that week about a woman who had post-partum psychosis and killed herself.
Hospital. For the first time it occurred to me that I might be safe from myself if I went to the hospital.
I had a sweet college student living with me at the time who was supposed to have started work that day, but her boss’s mother had died, and asked her to wait another few days to start. She was home. I asked her to watch my kids, without telling them what was happening. I started for my car, but I knew if I drove myself, I would use it as a tool to crash. I texted my neighbor and close friend: “Can you take me to the hospital?” She was also supposed to be at work that day, but she had a feeling she should stay home.
I showed up moments later on her porch, no bra, no makeup, no socks, with my fake-Uggs on. As she opened the door, the weight I had been feeling lifted so dramatically that I almost completely fell over. There was love emanating from her. So much that it lifted the painful thoughts enough for me to breathe. She held me for a moment on her doorstep, still unaware of why I needed to go in.
“If I drive myself to the hospital, I’m going to drive off the cliff. I can’t explain what is happening, but I went through something over this weekend and I can’t get my mind back.” She gathered her things, and I could feel the supportive, loving energy from her pouring in. I started to tell her pieces of what happened. In the moment I had thought maybe the whole thing happened so I could help my son, I was rambling off the possibilities, barely taking a breath, when I received a text message from my younger sister -- who was completely unaware of what I was going through that morning.
“I don’t know what is going on, but Mom is here, and she wants you to take a breath.” I saw the message and took a breath and let myself be wrapped up in the comfort of a Mother. The timing of this message alone is miraculous. The other detail that makes this message incredible is the fact that my Mom died in 2006. To put it simply, my sister is gifted, and my Mother’s energy is strong.
My friend proceeded to tell me that she was going to do some spiritual work on me called Reiki. As she connected with me, she could see that I was filled with a gold light, one she hadn’t experienced before. Then, calm.
At the Hospital:
It’s hard for me to articulate the state of my mind as I went to the hospital. I let go of control, knowing that if I was allowed to make a decision, I would choose death.
My friend took me to meet my husband, who was in almost shock from seeing me in distress at the level I was at. I had never had suicidal tendencies, and although I am an emotional being, I was always grounded and logical. I told my husband, “I can’t make decisions today, I need to get to the hospital or I am going to take my own life.” He took me in.
With my mind in the state it was in everything I looked at meant something, had a deeper meaning, but it wasn’t clear like it had been the days previously. It was frightening and chaotic. I did my best to clear my mind and stay calm. My sister-in-law, who worked on a psych-ward as a nurse showed up to the hospital with us, and I stayed huddled in her arms while my husband checked me in. I was scared. Beyond words scared. I was aware enough to know I may never be the same again; I did not know if I’d ever retrieve my mind. I wondered if I was going through psychosis, had a brain tumor, or some other illness in the brain that would cause all the things that had happened to me over the weekend. I NEEDED an explanation so I would also see an end to the terror I was experiencing that day.
We were shown to a room where I could be monitored. I laid there in fetal position on the cold, hard surface of a bed they had in this room created for people wanting to take their own life. Stale, cold room. I was quiet, I was meditative. Anytime I came out of a meditative state the terror would start again; my only control was to silence my mind, and do my best not to go down the rabbit holes trying to process my environment.
I can still see the desperate look in my husband’s eyes as he watched me try to stay quiet. Both of us helpless to what was happening. Dad arrived. With tears in his eyes he wrapped me up in his big arms and I felt that rush of love like I did with my friend. When this energy came in, I was in bliss, not afraid, trusting of what was happening. Dad and Jason proceeded to give me a traditional blessing for the sick that is performed in my childhood church. In this blessing my Dad said, “The balance will be returned to you, and your mind will heal.” These words were crucial to my healing. Balance.
I had felt like the moon had exploded and, I was earth shifting from hot to cold, unpredictable, off its axis aching for the balance the moon provides. I let go of fear, trusting the words my Dad gave me.
By the time I made it to the psych ward I was calm, peaceful. There was still a shit-storm happening in my mind, but I had made a decision to watch it go by instead of fear what it was. To experience it instead of control it. It very much felt like my drive to the hospital when I was calm driving in the middle of an intense snowstorm. It hadn’t stopped, but my judgement and concern of it did.
By the time I was in the psych ward it was late. Everyone was asleep. I sat and filled out papers and discussed what to expect with the person doing intakes in the hospital. I had to leave my husband and ride in an ambulance to a different hospital, so I was on my own at this point.
As I watched the man onboarding me into the unit, I could sense his kindness to an extreme. Strangely he averted looking at me directly in the eyes, much like the people in the hospital with my son. When he did look at me directly his hands would shake, and he lost concentration as he delivered the rules and expectations on the unit. At one point he even stopped and apologized that his hand was shaking so much.
Next, I was taken to my room where my roommate was asleep. I was stripped down to nothing. I was asked to squat and cough to prove I wasn’t hiding anything inside my body. The nurses handled me with almost a reverence that I imagine they give to each of their patients, and I was grateful for that. Then I was left alone again, in fetal position, cold, in a strange room without my mind fully intact.
The next few portions of my story are harder to place time stamps on because my level of clarity was not the same as it was when it all started. I am not sure if that is because of the level of emotional endurance I was at, or if it is just the nature of the cycle I was in while at the hospital. I’ll describe events I experienced while I was there; forgive the lack of a timetable on these ones.
I was only given medication once at the hospital, an anti-anxiety that put me to sleep the second night I was there. Other than that, I didn’t take anything.
>Heavenly Mother/Divine Feminine<
I had a really bad headache and I was laying in my bed, and my mind started down one of the holes. I was enduring a waking nightmare, calling for my Mom and I could not find her. As I laid there sobbing, trying to be quiet for my roommate, I had a memory surface of my son that happened a few months earlier.
My son had had a night-terror. The kind where they look awake, their eyes are open, but they are not awake. He was crying, and screaming for me. He was in so much distress, and it was happening while I was holding him. I had him safe in my arms, I was crying over his distress softly saying, “Mommy’s, Mommy’s here. You are safe.”
As this memory emerged, I was able to release the waking nightmare and a flood of divine feminine energy washed over me. It was so intense that my headache disappeared on contact, and it was like I was completely wrapped up in divine, motherly love. I didn’t return to that particular nightmare again.
This hell was particularly rough for me but has been one of the most transformational as well. It took me two years to get past the trauma of this one, and I had to undergo EMDR therapy for it as well.
I have mentioned before that I grew up religious. This wasn’t the kind of religion where you attend church once a year. My whole life was centered on it. I made my choice of when and how to marry based on it. I made career (or didn’t make) career choices based on my upbringing in this church. It was my center. The concept of judgment hadn’t been frightening to me growing up though. I had made mistakes, but I had a good heart in my opinion. The way my church portrayed it didn’t seem as harsh as other religions. That being said, this was my experience:
I was presented to a council. I was naked. Not just physically naked. All things naked. To the soul, naked. If you recall my initial experience with my life review, the incredible symphony that healed my body. This would be its opposite. I saw things I had done, intentionally and not, that had shattered the lives of others. I saw my ripple effect from the perspective of fear. I screamed a silent scream. Over and over. There was no escaping the damage I had caused. It wasn’t exaggerated, it was fair, and concise. And I couldn’t hide from any piece of it. I was completely exposed. I’m naked, this is me and there’s no power I have that will change what I am, what I was and the effect I had on others.
My only response: “Yes, I am these things, yes, I did these things, yes, I am naked and imperfect and have shattered lives with my decisions. But I know Him. I know Christ. I know Him, I’ve experienced His energy, and I believe the word.”
It stopped. I didn’t get a ruling, but it stopped.
>Concept of Cycles of Life<
This experience came after the divine feminine and after Judgment. I was standing, looking out the window of my room. A concept of our earth life being a reflection of spiritual truths came to me -- this wasn’t a new idea for me. I had studied this concept a few times. But It came in a form I hadn’t thought of. I saw how on earth we live each day, go to bed, wake up, live again. Each day is new, but its also just slightly different from the previous day depending on our life choices. We grow, or we don’t grow. We thrive some days and some days are a shit-show. Our thoughts and patterns from years ago set in motion our present moment.
This concept was broadened from days to lifetimes. Prior to this moment I had only considered reincarnation or multiple life probations fleetingly. I hadn’t ever spent a lot of thought on it because to me -- it didn’t matter. It wasn’t pertinent to me trying to be my best self. As the concept came to me I was overwhelmed. “No, I can’t.” “I can’t do this over and over and over again, please, no!”
“Shhh….” Peace. I thought of sleep, of how we can recharge every night, we wake up refreshed and ready for the next day. I thought of how much could be accomplished with that kind of ‘progression of life’ in the realm of ‘time’, and as I thought of this concept this way the overwhelm dissipated.
>Being Named/Trusting It<
Shortly after the concept of life cycles came, I heard, but not with my physical ears, “You are Christ.” It was said with authority. It was said with empathy. It was said simply.
I broke. I could not grasp this. In the context of progressing through multiple lives, instead of one, I only had the idea that my next life I would be in a Christ story as a Christ. Please understand that at no point did I believe or was it impressed on me that I am THE CHRIST. It was a name, a title.
“I’m not that strong,” I said sobbing. “I’m not that strong!” “I am not that strong!!!!” “I need Christ, I am not Christ!!” I cried and cried and cried. When I stopped my tantrum, the same authoritative voice said one thing. “You’ve trusted me in this before.” And I let go.
>Choice to Continue<
On the second or third night of my stay I had a vision. I was brought to a room with three other people. I can’t recall who they were to me, but I knew we had worked closely in some way on my life plan. They proceeded to give me a choice. “Do you want to come home or keep going?” I understood their meaning. I could choose death, I could choose rest.
I only asked one question, and it was to one person. He felt like a father figure, but I don’t know the nature of our relationship. I trusted him more than anyone I can think of, and I trusted that he knew two things:
- What I still had ahead of me to endure – because he had done it before me.
- What I was capable of enduring -- because he knew me at a level I didn’t know me.
With the understanding of those two simple concepts. I asked him, “Am I strong enough?” With a nod of his head, no words, just a nod, I turned, and I left the meeting determined to live. I could tell the others in the meeting wanted to give me more details. I asked them not to. It was like when I told my son not to watch the needle enter his arm when they gave him an IV. If I don’t brace too hard, the impact of what’s coming is less. I don’t worry, stress or panic. I trust that I resurface.
Visit on the Psych-Ward:
One night while I was there Jason came to visit and brought a friend with him to give me another blessing for the sick. They got to the unit a little late and we were rushing with our visit. When they first arrived, I was in the middle of re-living the trauma of Judgement. The judgement itself wasn’t reoccurring but I was remembering it and unsure of what it meant. I was curled up in a ball on my bed, frightened and pale.
As they walked in, and I saw their reaction to me, their sympathy, their kindness, I was able to soften and come out of the hell I was re-living, that I understood later was part of the PTSD.
There was a lot that had happened, and my husband’s friend wanted to hear how I had landed myself in the psych-ward. We had worked together, and knew each other a long time, and this was not typical for me. As I relayed my story, and filled my husband in on the things that had occurred since the last time I saw him, at least the things I felt I could speak of – I felt myself coming back into balance. I was grounded, calm, secure.
As we spoke, our visiting hours ended and we knew at some point a nurse was going to ask them to leave. We were in my room in the hospital with the door shut, but there was a window for the nurses to check on us. As I told me story my back was to the window. Both Jason and “Harry” told me later that as I told my story, they watched as multiple nurses peeked in my room to check on me, looked straight at the guys and kept walking. They both kept holding their breath, hoping for more time to hear the end of the story and to be able to be a comfort to me for longer. As I spoke the last sentence, the door opened. It was now an hour past visiting hours and the surprised nurse asked the men to leave, trying to figure out how they had managed to stay that long after visiting hours.
My husband wrote to my family the next day with his feelings about what he thought I had been through and why. It was very profound.
Once I was able to return home I was grounded enough to function as a Mother. The effects were starting to wear off; however, there are a few experiences I had after I got home that I would like to write about.
Seeing My Spiritual/Higher/Real/Next Self:
Mostly the visions and concepts had stopped at this point, but there was one night that it hit suddenly as I was getting ready for bed.
I was taking a shower before bed and it was like I was seeing a memory. This is the only time I saw something outside myself, although the conversation I heard was not audible, just like the rest of my experiences; it was more like a downloaded playback, and someone had started the memory mid-conversation. I could ‘feel’ how I felt emotionally and cognitively in the memory. I was like a child. Excited, playful, no fears in the world. But I was also somehow more intelligent than I am in my current form/life. The being with me was a Father figure, likely the same one that had been constant throughout this journey. I could feel His love for me emanating from Him.
This is how the short conversation went: “What do you want to look like?” He said. As I thought about my answer, I watched the water droplets in my shower take form. This was the one and only time I saw a vision with my physical eyes, and part of me wonders if it was just so vivid in my mind that I could see myself in the steam and water in front of me, like a mirror. The form I saw is imprinted in my memory. It was/is me that I saw. I didn’t look exactly like I do now, but my eyes didn’t change. I saw my eyes, looking back at me, in a slightly different form. As I look back, it felt like one of the more powerful co-creation moments of my lifetime. Like my desires mixed with my Father figure’s creation knowledge combined to show me, me.
While this occurred, I also gave a reply to his original question. “I don’t care what I look like, as long as he is attracted to me.” He laughed, then asked, “What do you want him to look like?” “Superman!!!!” I yelled, and we both started laughing.
Then I got serious, I only had one question for this master creator I was speaking to, only one question about what we were creating together. I braced myself, took a breath and asked, “Will there be dancing?” He laughed even harder this time than he did before like the way a parent laughs when a toddler says something beyond adorable, “Yes, there will be dancing.” The playback ended there.
One morning I woke up feeling off balance. I felt like my mind was slipping too far to the right side or complete chaos, then to the left side that felt completely cold and calculated. Both sides at their extremes are ‘hellish’.
I was impressed to grab some crystals I had purchased a month before in an airport. I did not have a belief system for or against crystals prior to this experience, and I’m still not sure if they actually helped me obtain balance, or if they provided a visual I needed to obtain balance myself. I’ll do my best to describe how they helped. Both crystals were from the same rock. They had broken on my flight home. They were originally about 20 inches long, and 2.5 inches in diameter at their biggest point. It looked like a wand made from the earth. When they broke I ended up with one piece about 6 inches long and a another about 14 inches long.
I took them and placed them in front of me, unsure how they were meant to help. Then as my mind did a barrel roll into the right side, I would pick up the crystals. I placed the short one in my right hand, the long one in my left, and somehow I would feel myself being pulled back to center. I would sit in the center for a moment, then the exact opposite would happen and I’d barrel roll into my left brain, so I would switch hands. Take the short crystal in my left hand, long in my right.
My sister was there and would watch me while I alternated hands. When I was in balance I was able to have a conversation with her. As my mind started to shift to the right or to the left, my conversational capabilities would stop. I wasn’t able to conceptualize what I was thinking into words. She observed but saw that the technique was working, even if I can’t describe how it worked or how I knew it would work. It reminds me of the concept of phantom limb syndrome, when you can put a mirror up to a person to create the illusion of the missing limb being there. The visual of the rocks “pulling” me back to center had some type of effect to keep me grounded. This lasted about 15 minutes, then I was balanced and the swings stopped.
Dream of the Return of Balance:
One morning I woke up and heard the words, “By the time you are 36, the balance will be restored.” In the moment, I was so emotionally and mentally exhausted and afraid, I did not think I’d survive four years.
But the balance came back to me in chunks as I sorted through everything that happened. I will be 36 this year. I feel restored, grounded and balanced. I suppose the trend will continue as I age, and likely ebb and flow, like the seasons. But the moon has returned and I’m back on my axis, experiencing life as intended -- where the shore meets the water, the break, balanced between worlds.
This may be a strange statement, but I can honestly say the parts of my experience that caused the most change and the most growth were the hellish ones. Or rather, the fight I fought to overcome them caused the most change. I compare it frequently to weightlifting. It was spiritual weightlifting. Not a punishment, it was a tool. These tools gave me perspective into what my boundaries are, what is important to me, what I’m willing to fight for, and the length I’m willing to go for love.
Who am I? I am a single mother to four beautiful children. Professionally I am an accounting consultant. I divorced my husband of 15 years last year due to a drastic change in who I am fundamentally after this experience, and we just stopped being compatible. Other than my experience, anyone on the outside looking in would see an average suburban family.