Buying & Selling

As I mentioned earlier, Kyle and I have been working hard to prep the house to sell. Having stairs when both of us are disabled just doesn’t make sense. We don’t get to utilize the space in the basement, and if his mother didn’t live down there at the moment, it would literally be a waste of space. 

We also have a huge set of stairs out back that we’ve been having to use while training the puppies. Did I mention we have 5 dogs?! LoL. 

Between the stairs, and needing more space (for all the dogs), we have decided to sell. 

I purchased my first home (by myself) when I was 21 years old. Having been homeless only 2 years prior to that, it was a pretty big deal that I was able to turn my life around. I landed a good job, then got an apartment, a brand new car, and then was able to buy my own house. 

I lived in that house up until I had my NDE, and because of the complications during surgery, and then not being able to walk, I wasn’t able to live in my own house anymore. There were too many stairs and I wasn’t able to do stairs at that time. 

I stayed at my father’s house following my hospital stay because it was all one level and had no stairs. I stayed there until I was able to conquer the stairs, and then I went home. 

After the domestic dispute with my ex, (The night I got PTSD – I write about this in an upcoming blog post) I never stayed at my house again. I emptied it out, rented it out for a few months, and then sold it altogether. 

I lost everything after my trauma. I was unable to work, unable to pay for my car (they repo’ed that) and had to sell my house. I sold all of my smaller items of value to try and keep the car and the house, but when push came to shove it all had to go. 

I sold my house by myself. I’m pretty into real estate as a hobby so I tried my hand at it, and had a great experience. I saved myself an ass load of money in what I would have paid in real estate commission, and closed the book on that chapter of my life. 

Although selling my house was way more stressful than buying it, it wasn’t near as stressful as selling Kyle’s house this time around. He bought this house by himself when he was 20. So the pride of that accomplishment is understood by the both of us. 

This house has only been listed for a week and we just got a viewing request for tonight. I am beside myself with the excitement, nervousness, and fear of this process. I have to get the house looking nice and in the right energy to sell. All while Kyle makes multiple trips to off load all the dogs to his Dad’s house. Did I mention that 2 of our dogs are 140 lbs. and that the other 3 are around 60 lbs. ?! (2 of those 3 are 6 month old PUPPIES!) I feel like we run a zoo!

This house showing will be quite the feat for us. I expect both truck loads to look like something similar to the Beverly Hillbillies. I really should take pics. 

We looked at a property yesterday that meets our needs and desires. We are interested in making an offer on it. The buying part has me excited, nervous, and fearful too! There are just so many varibles that we can’t control.

As we were on our way to the property, I asked my spirit team (God, Universe, Angels, Spirits – who ever) to bless us with the feeling of “home” if this property was the one for us. Whoever was listening did just that! Both Kyle and I felt right at home as soon as we walked in the door. I could literally SEE us living there. 

On our way home, I was thinking about all the variables of buying and selling, the nervousness of timing and money, and moving. I thought to myself “Don’t panic, if it’s meant to be, it will be!” It’s really hard to remind myself of that, but I try my best to stay focused that it will all work out the way it should. Jesus has the wheel on this one. LoL.

Around supper time, Kyle decided to check the mail where he found a letter addressed to his mother (she lives in our basement) that she got approved for disability. This is fantastic news! It means she can start supporting herself with the Government’s assistance and she can now move into her own place!!! 

Having his mother live with us is a sore spot for me. Her and I have had a very rocky relationship and I want nothing more than for her to move on in her life so that Kyle and I can move on with ours. I will write more on this topic in and future blog post. 

Hours after receiving that good news, we got a message from our agent about the house viewing request tonight! 

I could not believe the series of events that occurred yesterday. There are some days that I feel so connected and in touch with the Universe. And yesterday was one of those days. 

Regardless of how the showing goes tonight, we are given an opportunity to sell this house and in turn buy a new one, together, where we can start our lives, together, alone, in a house that is new to both us. We get and clean slate, a new start. A home to call “ours”. 

Even though it’s still early in the process, I feel that each and every step we take in this house buying/selling process will be divinely guided. For only God knows our next step in life.

– A.M.

How Often Do You Think About Death?

​The article below is what inspired this blog post:

10 Lessons People Who Have Died & Come Back Can Teach Us About Life

To be totally honest with you, I didn’t read it. You can if you like, but seeing this headline show up in my newsfeed was all I needed to start the conversation.

Most people fear death. Naturally, we fear what we don’t know or understand. Some make every day choices built on their fear of death (or their fear of living – depending on how you look at it). What I’ve been learning is that choices made out of fear lead us further off of our path.

 
Since my NDE, I can confidently say, that without a doubt, I think of death every day of my life. Depending on the day, I may think of death as an escape, a way out of the constant pain my body is in. Or, I may think of death as a beautiful vacation destination. Mostly, I remember how beautiful it was to experience the white light, the weightlessness, the unconditional love, and the absence of the heavy and negative emotions we get weighed down with in life.
Sometimes, when I need to relax and calm myself down, or I simply need a break from this body, I find myself in a deep meditation focusing on all the beautiful memories I have. More often than not, the beauty I experienced in the white light of the operating room, is my main focus of the meditation. 

As I mentioned before, I struggle with depression. Being bipolar on top of all my other medical conditions just adds a different level of emotion and struggle to an already full plate of heavy themes. 

When I find myself in a depressive state, I usually wish for death. I plea my case to God, the Angels, the Universe, my loved ones in spirit, anyone I think to pray and plead to. 

I get even more depressed when I think about how I was given a second chance at life. I feel some sort of survivors guilt thinking about all the people in the world who have died and who would have given anything to have had a second chance at life. And here I am, mad at the world for being spared. I struggle with that. 

When I’m not being over run with depression and negative perspectives on life, I think of death in a similar way as I would thinking about anticipating a vacation. You catch yourself in moments daydreaming about being on the beach, feeling the warm sand under your feet, a warm gentle breeze blowing across your body, the hot sun as it hits your skin, hearing the waves crash off in the distance, the smell of the ocean, and that perfect moment when you take a deep breath of fresh air and you can feel the relaxation fill your lungs and then travel through your whole body on your exhale knowing that in this moment, there are no worries, no concerns, just a perfect moment of pure beauty and contentment. 

I can’t wait to go on that vacation. I have no plans made, and no idea if or when that trip will happen, but when it does I’ll be all packed and ready to go. 

The same goes with death. Whenever it’s my time, I will be packed and ready to go. Where warmth, comfort, relaxation, and pure beauty and love is my landscape. Where I can finally escape the heaviness of this world, and just be. 

Until then, I will continue to live my life, the ups and downs and everything in between. I will do my best to honor the second chance that I was given, and do my best to help others along the way. 

So I ask you, how often do you think about death? How do you feel about it? And do you feel divinely guided in your life?

There is no doubt in my mind that we are as divinely guided into death, as we are being guided to stay alive. 

– A.M.

My White Light Moment

I’m not going to go into huge detail about this event or the events leading up to it, as I will be saving that for my book. Yes, I said it, MY BOOK!! I have been hasseled and repetitively reminded and encouraged over the past 7 years to share my story with the world. The message “WRITE A BOOK” literally haunts me. It’s everywheres; TV, movies, flyers, fb ads, online ads, and even out of the mouths of perfect strangers. So in attempt to shut the Universe up, I will be writing a book, my story of a near death experience resulting in my life being changed forever, due to the disabilities I now have from the hospital’s “life saving efforts” on my body. 

Sometimes when people find themselves in traumatic situations, (especially those involving near death experiences) one could see the potential for the event in their actions prior to. For instance: someone who was out climbing the face of a mountain knew the element of risk and danger prior to engaging in this activity. If said mountain climber experienced an accident that lead to a near death experience, one could say that they really should have seen that coming. 

I, like millions of others, got in the situation I was in by accident; the “where-the-fuck-did-that-even-come-from” kind of accident. At 23 years old, I found myself standing in the gorgeous, breathtaking, warm, all loving and encompassing white light, after a pregnancy gone horribly wrong. In what can only be described as “the pregnancy from hell”, I experienced the following:”Yes you’re pregnant, No you’re not, Yes you’re still pregnant, You may be carrying twins, You are miscarrying a twin, There is only one baby, Now there are none. Go home and let your body miscarry the pregnancy naturally.” Horrible right?! 

After laying on the couch (on what felt like my death bed) for close to 3 weeks in the most excruciating pain ever, I decided that something was wrong. It didn’t feel right. I had never been pregnant before let alone miscarry, but everything I read about this scenario didn’t match up to what I was experiencing. 

After going to the emergency room once again, the ultrasound tech reluctantly investigated further, and found an 11 week old fetus (with her own heart beat and blood source) curled up nice and cozy in my fallopian tube. I had been scanned and cleared of an ectopic pregnancy 3 times in the weeks prior to in my pregnancy, but low and behold here she is, in all her glory, in my fallopian tube. 

I needed emergency surgery. The doctors were mystified at: A. How an ectopic pregnancy could have been missed; and B. How this fetus was thriving where she shouldn’t have been; and C. How my tube hadn’t ruptured yet by her presence. The fallopian tube is only 1cm in diameter, so having a fig sized object inside that tube without it rupturing was a medical marvel all in itself. 

I wish I could end my story there. As tragic as it is, I wish that this was the end of it. How great it would have been to wake up from that ordeal and get on with my life?! Eventually I would fall in love, and have kids and it healed the emptiness in my heart. But that’s too Disney. That’s not how life works. 

After my first surgery, I required another emergency surgery to stop the bleeding in my abdomen. I was hemmoraging internally, and was suffocating under the pressure of the blood inside me on my lungs. While in surgery, I coded. My airways and veins collapsed and they had a hard time rescusitating me. 

In the moments that my body was unresponsive, I had an outer body experience. I was standing over my physical body laying on the operating table watching the doctors work on me. The room filled up with the most beautiful white light. There I stood infront of my Nanny who had died when I was 9 years old. She stood next to a man that I didn’t recognize; a man that I would only be able to identify years later as Jesus Christ himself. I also seen a girl who looked a lot like me. She walked over to my body and laid on top of it. That’s the last thing I remember before I woke up. 

The whole experience was life changing in so many ways; the details, the aftermath, the healing, and the pain of recovery. Those are all stories that can wait for another time. 

The highlight of this horror, was the white light. Never could I ever be able to describe this light to you and do it justice. We do not have the words or vocabulary as humans to be able to communicate or interpret that kind of raw, magical power and energy to others, let alone make sense of it yourself. 

There are very few times we can even experience that kind of beauty here on earth; sunsets and sunrises, beautiful scenery, and moments of pure love and joy, the moment something hits you right in the feels, right in the solar plexus. 

Even in those moments of pure love and beauty, the white light is so much more than these perfect moments could ever be. There is no pain or weight in this light. There is no heavy or negative feelings. It’s like you get to take off the weight of the world and just be your spirit self; your soul self. Nothing but pure unconditional loving energy comes from this light. It is in this light, that suddenly I understood life and its hardships. I was able to see why things happened as they did. I was able to understand the vast connectiveness of the world and all that’s in it. For the first time ever, I had a sense of clarity. I understood life. 

The moments I experienced in the light were so profound that it has forever changed my life. That white light experience is the reason I am able to continue on in life with a strength that I could only acquire by being at death’s door. 

Unfortunately, that same strength is also my biggest weakness. Because living in this world, as hard and as heavy as it all is (especially on days when the pain is too much) I get down and depressed. I think about what I wouldn’t give to be in that light again. There have been more days than not, that I have been angry for getting a second chance at life. Angry that my life was spared even though my quality of life wouldn’t be much compared to what I was use to. Angry that I was taken from that perfect white light and thrown back into this dark hell. 
After 7 years of going through this rollercoaster ride of pain and emotion, I always end my depressive phases on a high note. I am able to take the weakness of wanting to be in the white light again and turn it into strength, and a sense of empowerment, all by knowing that I’m here for a reason. My life was spared for a reason. It was not my time to go. 

Every day since 7 years ago, I have struggled with my health, the pain, the effect of being disabled, with staying positive, to find out my purpose in life and why I was spared. Maybe all of this is because I have a story to share, to help inspire, and help others grow. 

One thing remains the same, the white light has left a beautiful scar on my soul. A scar I see every day; the whitest, most beautiful scar anyone could ever ask for.

– A.M.

*Photo credit given to original owners.*

How a”Professional Procrastinator” Starts a Blog

I’ve been a procrastinator my whole life. I’m not trying to play the “blame game” or anything, but we ARE infact products of our upbringing and environment. And with that being said, I come by being a professional procrastinator very honestly. Haha. (I’m a funny person and laugh a lot. I carry huge amounts of sarcasm in my ways of communicating so please expect many “haha”s and “lol”s throughout my writing).

Growing up, I watched my mom live a semi-scattered life; not being able to finish projects, unable to see things through, unable to commit to things like plans or decisions, and fail miserably at having and/or maintaining healthy relationships with people (let alone herself). So in turn, I have picked up some of those same qualities. 

Procrastinating, although the act itself is exhausting; (reminding yourself over and over again of the things you have to do, the inevitable guilt of doing nothing or something else other than the task at hand, and then feeling shitty about your inability to get your shit together and JUST DO IT AND GET IT THE FUCK OVER WITH!!Haha.) it’s my “normal way” of doing things. I don’t like it. I always want to change it. But it just ends up being another thing on the list that I never get around to doing.

I work best under pressure (even though it turns me into a monster – lol). I do my best work with whatever I’m doing in life, when: A) It should have been done already; and,B) Crunch time has come and gone and has been over for hours. I always pull it out though. I always make it happen; and most times, it’s my best work! 

But to continue procrastinating when it comes to writing and starting this blog, just can’t happen anymore. It’s been YEARS that I have put off this writing thing. I should have just gotten my shit together and taken advantage of all the opportunities I had to write over the years, but no; I did anything and everything but that. I tried putting deadlines on myself until the anxiety of my procrastination became disabling, and on top of all my other disabilities, I didn’t need to make things worse. I had to just shake my head and let go of all the pressure I was putting on myself. I was literally making myself sick! 

So what happens when you are a perpetual procrastinator and you free yourself of deadlines and accountability? Well… nothing. Hahahaha. NOTHING continues to happen. Nothing ever gets done. 

Here I am, 7 years later, after having one of the most mind blowing, life changing, traumatic experiences of my life still procrastinating on sharing my story with the world. I’m still being encouraged to write by my family and friends, and by complete strangers who always say “OMG, you should write a book!” after hearing a bit about my story. If I had a dollar for every time I received a message of encouragement to write I’d have at least a hundred bucks!! 

I’m a big believer in the Universe and the signs of guidance they send. They have been relentlessly badgering me; using ANY means necessary to get to me to hear them. They are constantly nagging me about fulfilling my earthly mission as a writer. I’m not a writer. I would LIKE to be a writer, but that would mean I’d actually have to write. Haha. And then actually SHARE my writing. Then I’d require someone to actually read my writing and have it effect them in some way; whether they were helped even in a small way by reading it or they end up informed, or educated in some way by my writing, LONG before I could ever call myself a writer. 

I just received my 3rd sign (in the last 3 weeks – things always happen in 3’s) from the Universe that it’s time for me to stop fucking around. It’s time to get my ass in gear, and just write. They are breaking it down for me in baby steps; first a blog, then a book. I’ve been working on my book for years but in classic procrastinator fashion, I can’t seem to finish it. (Hmmm… I wonder where I get that from?!? Thanks Mom!) 

So my 3rd and final sign I received was from my boyfriend’s father. Point blank, after hearing one of my daily stories of being dysfunctional disabled, he says,”You need to be writing a blog.” 

This man doesn’t know me very well. He has no idea of my depths and experiences in life. He didn’t even know that I write for fun (or for therapy as I call it). There was no ignoring that sign. It wasn’t even slightly cryptic. It was a clear, concise message with no bullshit. I laughed in and thanked him for the message and then apologized that spirit used him to get a message to me. Luckily for me, he is a spiritual man himself so he didn’t find it weird to hear me say that.

In my mind, I was frustrated. As the words, “You need to be writing a blog.” spilled out of his mouth; my mind screamed, “Alright!! I fucking get it!! I hear you! Leave me the fuck alone!!” 

I’ve got some pent up anger and aggression towards God and his Universe. Me and God; we argue a lot. But that story is for another time. 

This long, distracted, unfocused, scattered piece of writing is nothing more than me an example of me, DOING. 

Instead of getting overwhelmed with how to start this blog, and how much to write, and what I should write about, and all the insecurities on how to share my life with strangers; I’m just gonna do it! 

I came, I wrote, I finished, I posted. And THAT my friends is how this “Professional Procrastinator” started a blog.

-A.M.