AngelicView: Here is an example of a suicide NDE. I have noted that sometimes the suicide NDE stories are more profound than others. Perhaps that is our higher-self’s way of showing us a grander picture of life – to inspire us to live on.
I Died.
Death?
Let me make this perfectly plain. I killed myself. I died.
I did not “almost” die. I did not “only think” I died.
The part of me that animates my body was detached from it. There was no power to make that body function. We call that dead.
I know I was dead.
There was a feeling, an awareness, of something like a tiny “click”, a pull like a cork, a release like the tension taken off a spring, as I “died”. The body let go of me or I let go of it.
I knew I was “dead”. If you have ever handled a dead body you know something you can’t describe is gone from it. If you have seen anyone die you know the difference between a live body and a dead one. I have done both those things.
I was dead.
That’s a bold statement but I stand by it. I knew I had succeeded in killing myself. I hear you asking, “OK, if you were dead how did you know you were dead?”
The answer is what I have been trying to share with each person I think this experience might help. It is, to me, the point of sharing this story.
I did not “die”. You will not “die”.
My body was dead. “I” was still alive. I knew it then, and know it now, as a truth.
My body stopped working. The self I am did not.
I lived.
Life?
It was quiet; Complete silence. There was no apartment noise, no neighbor noise, no traffic noise, not even body noises – nothing. I liked that, it was so peaceful.
There was darkness all around me. In that darkness I was even more aware of the complete peace of the silence. It confused me that I was aware. I knew silence, dark and the meaning of the words. I knew they were words to describe something. I knew I was thinking them.
I also knew that “I” was “moving” through that dark peace. I felt no air over skin, I saw no markers, I heard no sound of passing but I felt I was going somewhere.
I continued on for what seemed a very short time in elapsed time. I had a million thoughts as I went. Having time for so many thoughts made it seem like it should have been a longer time.
That I had thoughts confused me. I tried to understand what was happening to me. “I” was still “me”. I was, apparently, alive. I could not see myself. I could not raise my hand to look at it, but I was something – I still felt like “myself”.
I was still thinking and feeling – but not in a body. I was moving without legs. I couldn’t see any part of myself so I assumed I had no legs, no hands, no arms, no feet or anything you would normally look at to see if it was there. I felt surprise and wonder. I knew the meaning of those thoughts, too.
I floated “higher” or further. I lack a better word for the sensation or the direction. Still, I knew I was moving to someplace. There are no words that describe it well. I moved toward some other place from where I was. I was drawn there, not going there. It was not my power that moved me.
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