To Tell or Not to Tell?: A Near-Death Experiencer Shares Her Story with Her Healthcare Providers

I remembered the rotation I had on the psych ward as a nursing student, where I felt like the patients were abandoned people. By the end of my psychiatric rotation, I had become completely troubled. Why was there no mention of non-medicated psychotherapy or emotional support for the individual going through a "spiritual emergency" or crisis? I learned in school that medication was the most "therapeutic" way to treat "crazy behavior and delusions." Yet, when conventional interventions failed, and patients faced a lifetime in a psychiatric ward, where was the patient advocate? The person who would take a stance and communicate, "Since this isn't working, perhaps first we should actively participate in holding a safe place for these individuals to be heard and supported instead of pathologized and labeled as crazy? What if, in doing so, this act of compassion would become the needed 'detox,' and then a positive therapeutic protocol could be implemented?"

Years later, I found myself in the exact same position as some of the patients I had encountered in my training—medicated and pathologized because I had an experience the medical professionals couldn't explain.

Call my near-death experience crazy if you must—you won't hear me challenge it. But what does the label "crazy" really mean? And does it constitute a solution if the cure comes in the form of a pill with a diagnosis of psychosis attached to it? Perhaps I was just run-down and lost, or just maybe I was having a "spiritual emergency."

After my NDE, I realized that patients need to be given a "safe" environment where they can share such experiences without being judged. They deserved to be cared for and understood by an educated, empathetic, and nurturing staff. I couldn't help but feel most of the drugs administered to the patients, including myself, acted as a Band-aid, decreasing or camouflaging their symptoms temporarily. I noticed the drugs affected the proficiency of many of the patients to think clearly. Even more disturbing, I sensed the drugs were inhibiting the ability of numerous patients to communicate with the Divine.

I'm not passing judgment on any institution or medical professional. That's not why I was sent back. Instead, I am identifying, through my experiences and lessons learned, that there is an urgent need for education on this subject. My NDE, "spiritual crisis," and after-effects were a vital component to my healing—it was the exact medicine I needed.

Following my NDE, I identified the need for enhanced education regarding such extraordinary experiences and the implementation of a spiritual component to healing protocol. I soon found myself embarking on a global journey speaking at conferences. At one conference, I had the privilege of sharing the stage with several Afterlife research experts who focused on proving the non-ordinary states of consciousness. I recalled one researcher suggested that "A large group of spontaneous episodes in nonordinary states of consciousness, currently diagnosed as manifestations of serious mental diseases and treated by suppressive psychopharmacological medication, are actually difficult stages of a process of psycho-spiritual transformation."

At that moment, the room began to spin, my jaw dropped, and my heart began pounding out of my chest. At that moment, I felt faint as I recalled my own NDE. I began to relive the first moments, following it in hyper-speed:

I was unconscious and taken to the emergency room via ambulance. Floating near the ceiling of the emergency room, I found myself staring at my lifeless body. It was my body, but I also knew the real me was not attached to that body. I honestly didn't think I could shove myself back into what had once felt so familiar, but now I identified as foreign. I knew reintegrating was going to be overwhelming and painful. That body wasn't me!

I was limitless, powerful, filled with God's love and light. I carried the knowledge of the Universe. I carried God's message and lessons. I was a spiritual being, not that...