This article contains information about sexual assault and violence which some readers may find distressing.
Its taken me a while to publish this article. Its been written and ready for quite a while now, I just haven't had the guts to hit publish. I've posted personal information before but this post? Well this post is very intimate. It feels like I'm uploading a picture of my butthole or something.
I have never actually spoken to others who have had near death experiences, so I don't know if my situation is unique or pretty common.
My near death experience is a confusing situation. Not only because my body has almost given in multiple times making it 'near death experiences' as apose to 'experience'.
But also because there are certain aspects I need to keep private for the sake of the people I love.
Like I said this post is an incredibly personal one, it's also a very long story. I can't cut it down too much because all of it is relevant.
Some of the things I have been through that I'm going to be talking about have never before left my lips. Only those who were there to witness it know about it.
I am going to be asking certain family members to not read this article, purely because I think it will be too painful. Believe it or not there are people in this world who do actually love me.
I'm going to be talking about one of my near death experiences in particular. This one hit me hard.
Oddly enough it wasn't the first of my near death experiences. I thought the first time would be the most shocking and the hardest to come to terms with, but boy was I wrong.
I've experienced near death experiences before, this time was different.
This particular event I found the hardest to come back from. I became fearful of leaving the house, shut myself off from others and spent most of my time paranoid I was about to die.
Every painful twinge turned into an epic battle with fear. When you have chronic conditions which lead to chronic pain, that means most of your day everyday is pure hell.
Why did I almost die?
To make it simple, I hemorrhaged. When a person hemorrhages, it ultimately causes them to bleed to death.
I'm not going to go into detail about what caused the hemorrhage. The reason for this is because I never want those I love to ever develop some kind of misplaced blame or guilt.
Its weird because if I close my eyes and think back to that day, I can still feel all of the emotions and pain I felt in those moments. I can picture the situation so clearly. The physical and emotional pain, the overwhelming fear as it escalated and it got real serious.
lying on the floor in the hallway of my house. To make matters worse I was directly outside my son's room, quite literally bleeding to death.
My son was asleep in bed and I remember praying, begging even, that he wouldn't wake up from the commotion.
If he had come out of his room he would of witnessed a massacre. There was pools of blood everywhere.
He would of come face to face with his mother bleeding out on the floor at this feet.
I can remember the exact thoughts going through my mind. I had already resigned myself to the fact that I was going to die.
"If I have to die tonight please don't let it be here. Don't make him carry this memory for the rest of his life. I know I'm an asshole but please just do this one thing for me."
I can recall looking at the paramedics working on me, stabilising me ready for the trip to the hospital. I hardly spoke a word.
I was trapped inside my own mind.
When I did eventually communicate, I pleaded with them to try and save me for my son's sake. Then my body began to physically shake uncontrollably like convulsions.
It was a weird sensation. I suddenly felt like I was no longer in my body or even in the room.
The only way I can describe it, the scene was in a glass bubble and I wasn't in the bubble.
It was as if the glass was frosted so I could only see blurs but I could hear. I don't know if I heard everything that was going on or just snippets.
I can't remember my journey to the hospital, but I can remember bits and pieces of being in the hospital.
I was on an operating table with a nurse holding me close, I was terrified and she must of seen that. I remember begging her "I need to see my son again." Just before everything went dark.
It turned out that I was in theatre for hours. The room was full of surgeons and other medical professionals.
I will never not be grateful to those people. They spent hours saving my life. The whole time I was fighting they was fighting harder.
I don't know how close I came to moving on from this world. I also don't know what actually happened to my body during the ordeal.
My memory of the time I spent in theatre
I remember standing in a really dark room with a really bright bulb in the ceiling light. I was shielding my face with my left arm. I know it was my left because I can still visualise the scene and I saw my tattoos.
I heard what sounded like my mother, the voice was incredibly similar but also very different.
"You have to stay. They need you. They can't lose another one, not like this."
Then everything went completely black.
When I started waking, I distinctly remember believing I wasn't waking at all. The bright hospital lights were all I could see.
I assumed I was passing over.
That was terrifying. I can't express how scared I was. I was wondering where I was going and what happens once you've moved on from this world.
That night a medical professional stayed with me all night. He never left my room.
I knew it was because I wasn't out of the woods, but that fact didn't stop me feeling calmed and safe by his presence.
He continuously told me to get some rest. Not only was I in too much pain I was also terrified I wouldn't wake up.
Two days after my night of hell he came and found me. Told me how much I scared them all. His words really drummed into me how grateful I should be for still being alive.
I asked him who was speaking to me during my operation. He thought for a while then explained how it was no one.
The entire room was silent aside from equipment demands and operation talk.
I mentioned to you earlier the voice I heard, the one so similar to my mother?
I have never told anyone else I heard that voice.
I never told anyone because I'm sure I know who it was.
I had an aunt called Wendy Knell.
Many years ago, that aunty, my mother's sister, was sexually assaulted, beaten and murdered in her own home.
Her death is quite possibly the worst death imaginable.
Wendy's last moments on this earth made her famous.
She is now remembered as one of "the bedsit murders". Sadly, the killer has never been found.
'The bedsit murders'.. The police and the media make it sound so casual don't they? It's as if they are merely stories instead of human beings.
They are more than a gripping story for the press. Or a chess piece for the police to play when they want funding. They were young women with a future who had their lives cut short in such a tragic, traumatic way.
I must admit, my instincts don't usually fail me and I feel strongly that it was her.
The truth is I will never know for sure who spoke to me that day, or whether it was just a very strange dream. But, there is some underlying reason that out of every time I have faced death that is the near death experience that still haunts me.