Finding Kirsten A Memoir

A Science-Fiction Memoir about a Mother's journey to finding herself, amidst a mental health crisis. She learns to love herself, despite her complex trauma and on going mental illness. Along the way she encounters unexpected spiritual experiences and a personal relationship with Jesus Christ; that leave her questioning everything she has ever believed.

Finding Kirsten | Prologue

  Friday, November 30th, 2018.

I took one last hit of marijuana, and let the heaviness of the smoke settle deep into my weary lungs. I relaxed into the hard gun metal chair that sits on our covered back porch, for our nightly smoke.  I wrapped the heavy blanket tightly around my legs; the howls from the coyotes in the field adjacent to our home echoed in my ears. The sound of thunder, off in the distance as lightning illuminated the skies before us and shook the ground beneath our feet. One of my favorite things about Texas is our lightning storms. It had been another overly long day and I was grateful for the relaxation that weed brought me; both physically, and mentally. I thought to myself as the high lifted the fogginess from my brain “ Weird. I feel normal after a few hits of my favorite flower.” Cannabis does things for my anxious body and brain that I have not experienced with any pharmaceutical before. I knew that I needed to be careful; addiction runs in my family, and I’ve always had addictive tendencies. Even if my only real addiction currently, is hating everything about myself and what I joke is my drug of choice, Dr.Pepper. It can’t be any caffeine; it has to be ice cold Dr. Pepper. I knew that even something as simple as a plant, was an addiction for me, nonetheless.  I had been smoking for about a year and a half now, and it truly has saved my sanity in so many ways. I can still remember the first hit I ever took of the sweet flower I’ve come to love so much. I had been struggling for months with unexplainable chronic migraines as well as a lifelong suffering from chronic lower abdominal and back pain. My youngest son’s diagnosis of Cystic Fibrosis, in 2017, rocked my entire World. In every aspect of being. I was having trouble concentrating. I was struggling to get any sleep at night. I could not stop crying. Worst of all, it was affecting my ability to take care of my children. It was my Neurologist who ultimately convinced me to stop trying conventional western medicinal practices and try a more natural approach. It took him almost two years of educating me and multiple trials of failed medications before I got to a point that I would even consider trying it. “I’m not writing you another prescription until you at least try marijuana,” He had half jokingly said to me on one of our last appointments together.  He handed me a piece of paper with the name of a website written across it, that would help further my education on the medicinal benefits of cannabis; I could still picture his typical doctor handwritten note, on a lime green sticky note, as if it were sitting in the palms of my hand.  I went home that night and asked my husband if he would help me find a clean and pure product to try. Marijuana can worsen anxiety, and I wanted to avoid using anything that would heighten my already growing anxieties. It was Mothers Day, 2017, when I first began my journey with cannabis. That night, after the kids had gone to bed, my husband handed me an already rolled blunt and promised it would change my life. I slept through the night, for the first time in years. I have used cannabis, almost daily, since that day. I’ve truly grown to love and respect Mary Jane, as if she were an actual friend. 

“My current addictions are harmless,” I say to myself as I giggle quietly; “isn’t that what all addicts say?” I did not want to admit it, but I certainly had come to rely on Marijuana, psychologically and emotionally. Is it really any different than me relying on Ambien, or another heavy sedative, pain killer or anti-psychotropic drug? I’ve tried them all. Marijuana is hands down, the only thing that works without unbearable side effects. The problem is I craved it mentally, and looked forward to each and every night, come 9:00pm;  Ahh, that first hit. And truth be told, I’m not currently addicted to marijuana, but I know I will be. I’ve always had these instances in life, where I  just intuitively know something is going to happen; and then they do. Unexplainable, and sometimes a little freaky. They have happened less frequently since puberty, but I was a walking ‘know it all,’ as a child. At the age of 5, I told my maternal Grandmother that I would drown and die before I went to school. I was to start Kindergarten at the end of the Summer. After saying this several times and being adamant about my impending death; she put me in swimming lessons. That same summer, just a couple of weeks before school was to start, I drowned and was pulled lifeless from our apartment pool; full of adults. But things happen so quickly. I do know that more than one Angel was a part of my rescue that day. The Angel that pulled me from the pool, spiritually, and the Angel that pulled my lifeless body from the pool and breathed life back into my tiny water filled lungs. I wouldn’t be where I am today, were it not for them. 

I stood up and passed the blue tinted glass bong to my husband Dominik, his dark hair blowing slightly in the chilly breeze. A silhouette from a lightning strike in the distance spreads across his strong cheek and jaw line; illuminating the space around him, as if he himself were glowing. His eyes are heavy from the marijuana but I can still see the weariness of the day in his bold blue eyes, through the haze of smoke around us. I leaned down and kissed him on his pouty lips, reacting ever so slightly to the roughness of his beard and mustache against my skin. I smile to myself as I reminisce about the days both good and bad, and all of the trials and tribulations that God has put on our path. Having three children, two with very different special needs; is tough on even the best of relationships. I find myself growing more grateful each day for his continued support, raising a child that isn’t his own; as his own. As well as our two children that we have together. Dominik and I met when Kaden, my oldest son, was just barely three years old. We dated for over six months before I would introduce the two, but he stepped up to the role of “Dad,” without missing a beat. So much so, that Kaden began calling him “Daddy,” on his own just a couple of months after their introduction. He was as good of a father, as he was a husband. Never perfect, but he was consistent and he loved me, even with a little baggage. If I’m being honest, any other man would have left me long ago with the difficulties that come from raising a child with special needs. Much less, two. Yet, he continues to stay. The grin on my face widens and I kiss him once more, for good measure. “I’m going to tuck Kaden in, I’ll meet you in the room in just a few minutes.” I speak softly, as I reach for his hand and squeeze it in mine. I turn to walk to the door, our hands lingering in one anothers as we pull away; as if we can’t stand the thought of being apart for even a moment. He was staying outside to watch the lightning storm that was rolling in from the NorthWest. I  was headed to tuck in our oldest child. “The child I try so desperately not to wake too early in the morning,” I admit to myself, silently.  We all have one of those, I’ve realized. One child that is significantly harder to get along with. One child that just seems to push all of the right buttons, at the right times. That makes this dynamic feel a little less foreign and a little more acceptable. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Kaden and I often fought like brother and sister; not mother and son. And the arguing is growing in intensity and frequency, with each passing day. I can’t imagine what life will be like once the dreaded teenage hormones hit. Having a child on the autism spectrum is difficult, to say the least. Our daily life is anything but easy; yet we somehow have found a routine that keeps us all alive. “Alive. Sometimes we are barely making it but at least we are alive.” The thought echoes through my mind as the reality of our dysfunctional home life overwhelms my entire body and psyche with a sense of grief. “You do not have time to feel sorry for yourself,” I reprimanded myself internally.  

I  open the back door and step into the living room. The space is open and adjacent to our spacious kitchen.  Pictures of my children, that I have taken over the years, adorn the walls in the room before me. I’m a Photographer, and the pictures of my children are the only decorations I have in my home. The lights from the Christmas tree in front of the window to the left, twinkle excitedly as if they were dancing; illuminating the room ever so slightly. I was taken aback by the heat coming from inside my home; causing beads of sweat to form instantaneously on the nape of my neck. I had not realized how chilly it was getting outside, until I stepped into the warmth of my home. I quickly take off my heavy robe and lay it across the back of the worn leather sofa in our living room, exposing my purple pajama set underneath. Purple is easily my favorite color. It has such a strong significance in my life. Purple is the awareness color for Cystic Fibrosis. Purple, also happens to be the color of my aura. I have never seen another person’s aura before, but I have always been able to see mine for as long as I can remember. As a child, I referred to it as my “glitter light,” often illuminating around my hands and heart space. It wasn’t until adulthood that I realized I wasn’t the only one who saw this glowing light, encompassing my entire body. But there were, in fact, millions of others like me; who could see the faint light surrounding our human bodies; that reminded me of the Aurora Borealis. 

 “The weather in Texas is so out of control; I was wearing shorts this morning and blasting the air conditioner,” I said to myself outloud. No one around to hear it, or see me wipe the growing sweat from my brow.  It’s that time of year in North Texas where it’s 80 degrees in the afternoon, and in the low 30s by the next morning with frost on the ground. I quickly roll my eyes at the ever changing weather, and make my way to my oldest son’s bedroom, just down the hall. I walked past my  youngest son’s room on the right. I stop momentarily and peek in to see his tiny chest rising ever so slightly. A slight whistle coming from the back of his throat, as he sleeps soundly in his crib. Due to his Cystic Fibrosis, he has a constant wheeze. I’ve grown to adore the sound of his raspy breaths; but they once terrified me. Being told your new baby has a terminal and lifelong disease, that your genetic deformities caused; wears on one’s soul. I started to become hyper focused on his breathing and health, and found the anxieties of caring for a child with medical special needs, leaving me unable to handle even the most mundane of tasks in my everyday life. My mind was constantly racing; counting down the days I had left with my youngest child. My mind was continuously playing out and reliving the possibility of worst case scenario outcomes, over and over in my head. I had convinced myself that my baby was going to die, before I was ready for him to. It didn’t matter the advancements that science had made. I was stuck in this perpetual loop of weariness and “what ifs,” and the “could be’s.” They were quite literally driving me insane. 

I entered Kaden’s room and instantly felt my entire body stiffen in preparation for an argument,  as I walked to the side of his bed on the opposite side of the space. Stepping over a cardboard race track for his die-cast Nascar cars, he has cut out and taped together himself. ” He is so creative, and a natural born engineer,” I declared openly in my head. “Easily the smartest and gentlest person I have ever met,” I reminded myself internally.  His room is cozy and dimly lit from the soft light coming from the television in the corner of his room. His walls are covered with drawings he has made of football and hockey helmets, race cars and hand drawn portraits of his favorite athletes. Showcasing his artistic abilities and skill. His keyboard sits just next to his bed covered in dirty clothes. “I wish he would still play piano. He is so good at it,” I think quietly as I move his clothes from the keyboard against his wall, to his laundry basket sitting directly next to it. I sigh out loud at the unkept mess of his room and think to myself, “I know a fight is coming,” as I step closer to his bedside to tell him goodnight. Kaden has Aspergers, and a multitude of other behavioral and mental health diagnoses. But the one we struggle with the most, is his Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder, or DMDD, for short. This brings on intense bouts of rage and over the top reactions to small situations. This particular diagnosis is very common in children, on the spectrum. Let’s add in depression and anxiety, which he honestly gets from me. There is even a solid chance for some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; from having a young mother who had no clue what she was doing. The best way to describe it is that my home is a war zone with this child that has no ability to regulate his mood or emotions. Let’s face it. I’m 30 years old and struggle the same. We’re a lot more alike than I’d ever admit. 

“Be gentle, he gets that from you,” a tender voice pops in my head. I do not audibly hear it, but I can feel it in my soul and in the back of my mind. It almost feels telepathic; I am still not sure if that even exists. I shake the intrusive thought off and lean down to hug Kaden, goodnight. I always try to make this process as quick as possible. In and out, and no fights. That is my goal each night. After all, we have been arguing all day and I am heavily relaxed and ready for bed. “Goodnight buddy, I love you and I will see you in the morning.” I  use my right hand to ruffle the thick curly brown hair on his head that needs cutting. “A fight for another day,” I thought to myself as I gently combed my fingers through his thick locks of hair. I stood up quickly from hugging him and I turned to leave his room just as quickly as I came in. I get to his doorway and something stops me.  “Hug him longer,” the same tender voice pops in my head again. This time the feeling is so strong, I can not ignore it. It literally stops me in my tracks, just inside the door jam to his room; “HUG HIM LONGER,” The voice says again. This time, I can feel two hands reach out from in front of me, and rest on both of my shoulders. There was no weight or fullness to the touch, but I could feel the electricity pulsing from their fingers. I felt the sensations throughout my shoulders, down my arms and through my spine. As if, plain as day, someone was standing in front of me with their hands on my shoulders. I felt them. Completely taken aback, I turn over my right shoulder and walk back to Kaden’s bedside. I was not sure what was telling me to turn around, but I knew there was no way that I could ignore it. 

“What are you doing?” He asks.  “HUG HIM LONGER!” demands the little voice in my head. So, I  lean down again and hug his neck just a little bit longer. “Just giving you another hug,” I say as I pull him closer to my chest and kiss him on the top of the head. He is as baffled, as I am. This was certainly not a part of our normal bedtime routine. I hugged him, for what felt like 10 minutes. In reality it was probably only 30 seconds, but it was certainly the longest hug I had given my 10 1/2 year old, in a long time. As soon as I let go of his neck; a huge clash of lightning struck and thunder rumbled. It sounded a little too close for comfort and made me feel uneasy. This sort of weather seemed to both soothe my soul and shake it, at the same time. I stood up quickly, ready to leave his room again and the voice in my head whispered, “Stay, sit down and talk.” I felt the grasp of someone’s hand, around the base of my arm; just above the elbow. They squeezed slightly, to make sure that I felt them. I quickly turn to my right, to find nobody standing there. Their hand squeezes my arm again, a little harder this time. “You must stay.” her soft voice whistled in my right ear.  I was exhausted from yet another day as a work at home mom, of three. I did not want to sit down and talk; I was stoned, it was storming and I wanted nothing more than to be in my own warm bed, going to sleep, next to my husband. He was my safe place. The child that I spent my days arguing with, was anything but a safe place. I love Kaden immensely, as I do all of my children, but the constant bickering and fighting was taking a heavy toll on my mental health. Yet, despite my urgency to leave; something told me to stay. So, I stayed. I sat down on the edge of the bed, facing my oldest son, and began to apologize for being such a mean mother. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to say, but the words just flowed from my mouth like a stream of running water. Without giving it a single thought, I apologized for the screaming, for the yelling, for the blaming;  and most importantly, I needed to apologize for telling him, just that morning, that I hated him. I definitely did not mean it; or maybe I did. The fighting had been so bad lately; the words just came out. I am not even sure I actually “hate,” anyone. But I definitely hated the situation we were in; yet again. My eyes filled with tears as I apologized profusely; as he reassured me. “It’s okay Mom. You’re a great Mom!”. I definitely did not feel like one, at that moment. I was just like my own parents in so many ways; and I wanted to be nothing like them. 

For the next hour, I laid on the end of Kaden’s bed; while he and I just talked. We talked in ways that we never had before. It was as if the Holy Spirit; or A Holy Spirit, had taken over both of our bodies. I  had no idea what  the next thing that was going to come out of my mouth or his would be; but I knew that whatever was going to be said, was going to come true. We spoke mostly of Kaden’s love for professional sports, especially football and ice hockey.  How he dreamed of being a professional athlete one day. We talked of living in a happy home, somewhere on the beach, where the two of us never fight. We talked of our greatest hopes and desires. With every dream that we talked of the future, God sent a clash of thunder and lightning to affirm the things we were saying would eventually come true. At least, this is what Spirit was saying to me. “Spirit. That is what I am going to refer to this little voice in my head, as.” I thought to myself. I knew that this voice was familiar and that I had felt it speaking to me internally, before. But I could not tell you when or where. She was calming, and soothing. And powerful. And she knew how to get me to listen. Spirit was definitely a woman, like me. 

“Will you stay in here with me tonight?” Asked Kaden. Something has switched in me, and I actually want to. “Sure buddy. I just need to go tell Dad something, and I will be back in just a few minutes.” I was more excited than I had been in a long time. I could not wait to tell my husband about our conversation and intense connection we just shared. I got up to leave his room, and I could feel the energy of someone behind me, pushing me towards the door. “Be quick,” Spirit said. I tried to walk faster, but the air in front of me was heavy and thick. Thunder clashed loudly and shook the house all around me. The booming vibrations of the rolling thunder were felt throughout my entire body. The storm was nearing us, quickly.  The closer I got to the doorway of our Master bedroom, the heavier the air around me became. It felt as if someone had poured wet concrete on our hardwood floors, and I was trying to run through it.  By the time I reached my bedroom, I  could hardly breathe because of the heaviness in my chest and the thick warm air around me. My entire body was riddled with pin needles of anxiety. Spirit kept nudging me forward impatiently; there was no going back. 

Once I made it through my doorway, the heavy energy cleared, and I felt light again. I lept on to my overstuffed bed, like a child eager to tell a story. “I have to tell you what just happened!” I squealed with heavy breath. I couldn’t wait to tell him the experience I just had with our oldest son. It was quite literally, an “out of this World,” kind of experience. I wasn’t even sure how to describe what I had just experienced; but I was certainly going to try. I  pressed record on my phone to document our conversation, because I wanted to tell as much of the story as I could, before I forgot it. My body tingled with excitement. I tried so hard to get the words out, but something was preventing me from completing any real sentences. It was as if someone was trying to hold their hand over my mouth, as I spoke. “You are scaring me, babe. What is happening?” Dominik questioned with fear in his eyes. He reached out his hand, to grasp on to mine.  I opened my mouth, but I was too overwhelmed with what I had just experienced. I tried my best to get the words out, but between the excitement and the cottonmouth from weed, I was struggling. It felt as though, I had a mouth full of playdoh. No matter how hard I tried to get the words out, they just would not form. “This thing! I had this experience!” my lips stuck together as I spoke from the lack of saliva in my mouth,”Kaden! I felt someone touching me and talking to me!” I sputtered the words between hefty breaths. I could see the terror in his eyes. Hell, maybe there was even a hint of alarm in my own eyes. I took a deep breath, to calm myself. I had to stop stumbling over my words and tell him this story before I forgot it. Before I had a chance to even exhale fully; my phone in my lap began to let out a piercing sound. I knew that sound without even having to look down at my phone. It was a tornado warning. Stopping the recording on my phone, and instantly causing a somewhat blurry vision to fill my head. I saw the bodies of my 3 children and husband, laying in the rubble of what is left of our home. Only one of my two dogs, stands next to me in the wreckage. Were covered in blood and debris. The vision is so strong, it takes my breath away. I have never had a vision like this before, and it instantly terrifies me. At least, not one that I remembered. Dominik and I locked eyes for a second. “Turn It off, Kirsten!” He yells at me. It doesn’t even occur to me that the tornado warning has only gone off on my own phone. Not on my husbands, or any of our multiple tablets in the home. Only my phone. “GET THE KIDS!” I  yell in terror. I scold myself as I begin to panic, “I can not tell him what I  just saw in my head, he would think I was crazy.”

I jumped up from the bed, and ran straight to our bedroom door. “You are all going to die tonight,” a voice whispered in my head. This voice felt familiar too, but there was nothing soothing about these thoughts creeping into my mind. I  ran first to my only daughter’s room, which was the closest to mine. By this point it is about 11:00 in the evening, and the two youngest kids have been sleeping for hours. I throw the lights on in her room and yell at my sleeping 6 year old, Piper, to get her shoes on and go to the closet that we have designated as our tornado-safe room. Middle of the house, no windows. Like I have been taught my entire life. Tornadoes are just another part of living in Texas. And most tornado warnings go ignored. But there was something different about this one. I knew it could not be ignored. Next, I ran to my almost 2 year olds room, and snatched him from his crib. Ryder is sound asleep and does not budge, as I heave him on to my hip and turn to run to Kaden’s room; just next to Ryder’s. Another huge clash of lightning flashes and thunder rolls, as the same vision flashes across my mind’s eye. Only this time, it is stronger.  The picture is more clear, as if I have put my glasses on to see better. I can smell something burning. I can smell the iron of the blood pouring from somewhere, yet I can not see from where. “This is more than a vision. This is a premonition,” I say to myself in trepidation. I have never really had a premonition like this before, but I just know that something big is about to happen. I can feel it coming; like a train that is derailing, just before me.  

I  yell for Kaden to grab his shoes, and get to the closet. He just sits there in his bed and stares at me with confusion on his face. “GET UP!!!! THERE’S A TORNADO COMING!” I frantically scream more sternly, as I throw his shoes at him. His little brother, asleep in my arms; but dangling like a rag doll. I ran back towards my room, scooping my daughter, Piper, up along the way. “WERE ALL GOING TO DIE TONIGHT!” I scream, at the top of my lungs. Dominik stares at me, like a deer in headlights. He does not say a thing. “Did you not hear me?! We’re all going to die tonight!” I scream, in his direction, again. Barely holding on to either of my children, dangling from my arms. 

Dominik takes a step towards me slowly and places his hands on my face as he looks into my eyes, with seriousness. “Babe, there are no tornadoes coming.” He points to the news streaming severe weather that he has turned on in our living room. “No tornado warnings, only severe storms. We are fine, babe. I promise.” He knew I had a lifelong fear of tornadoes.  But he did not see what I saw. He did not FEEL, what I FELT. And I knew I did not have the time to try and explain to him.  

“You are all going to die tonight. That is why you and Kaden had that moment together.” The not so friendly voice whispered into my mind again. This time, a little louder. Even though I could not audibly hear anything, it FELT louder. My body ached with anxiety as my heart rate quickened and the words echoed in my mind. I was not ready to die, and I certainly was not ready to lose anyone I loved. “You are all going to die tonight,” the chilling voice reiterated in my mind as the vision played on repeat; like a nightmare that I could not wake up from. 

I sat Piper back down and grabbed her by the hand, as I adjusted Ryder on my hip. If Dominik would not listen, we would just have to leave him standing there. I knew I had to protect my babies, at any cost. I ran quickly to the master closet, just inside our bathroom, dragging Piper behind me. Her little legs were barely able to keep up with my intense pace. She stumbled behind me closely. I grabbed their bike helmets that I keep in the closet; for these exact instances and set them on their heads. With helmets strapped on tightly, I sit Ryder, into my lap. I tell Piper to sit facing me and she quickly obliges. “My rule-follower, like me,” I think to myself. Her compliancy and eagerness to please, made me so proud. She was just like me. Were sitting knee to knee, with the baby still asleep in my arms, when Dominik pops his head in; Kaden standing closely behind him.

“Babe, you have to come out of there. There are no tornadoes coming.” he commanded. I looked up at him, and began to beg for him to grab our son, Kaden, and get in the closet. “No, we are not coming in there with you,” he demands. “There are no tornadoes coming.” He and my oldest son both leave the closet and bathroom and head towards the living room to watch the weather. And then it happens again. Another tornado warning sounds, on my phone, only. I frantically hand Ryder to Piper, and jump up as quickly as possible; tornado warning still sounding, I  run back to the living room and shove the phone in my husband’s face and beg for him to come to the closet. Again, he refuses and heads for the back door that leads to our porch and backyard. “I’m just going to step outside and see if there is anything out there, okay babe?” As if him going outside would make me feel any better. My anxiety quickly heightened and I knew that I had to get back to the closest to protect my two littles; whom I had left alone on the other side of the house. “Your husband and son are the ones who will die tonight,” The husky voice insisted. I do my best to shake the unrelenting thoughts that creep into my mind and take hold. The thought of being forced to choose between protecting my son and husband, and protecting my youngest two children, began to overwhelm me. My hands began to moisten with perspiration as the scenarios played out in my head. “Dominik will protect Kaden,” I tell myself, as I run with despair to be with and protect my children. The roar of a twister reverberates in the distance, in the back of my mind as I hastily make my way back to the closet. 

“Your husband and son, will be the ones to die tonight,” The voice repeats in my head as I grab Ryder to place in my lap, and sit cross legged across from Piper. I reach behind me and grab a white down comforter that is sitting folded in the corner of the closet. I stare at it, for a brief moment in my hands. It feels as light as a feather, and as heavy as armor; all at the same time. The blanket in my hands begins to radiate a soft white light, as I  throw it over our heads. The weight of the blanket is comforting as it drapes over the top and around our bodies. The closet is packed full to the brim with unwrapped Christmas presents for the children and other junk that seems to have found its way into this somewhat small space. There is just enough room for us to sit comfortably, in the middle of all of the clutter. I begin to pray out loud, in a way that I have never prayed before. “God, please protect Dominik and Kaden.” I begged. ” Protect us, here in this closet. Be with us!” I beseech God imploring him to spare us, in this tornado. I was pleading, even. “Do not let this be the end for us,” I prayed a little louder.  

Dominik pops his head back into the closet, and hears me praying out loud.  “Babe, you’re scaring the kids. You have to stop this!” he insists as he pulls the blanket back, exposing the three of us underneath. But, he doesn’t understand. I can FEEL the tornado coming. I can hear it, even. It’s somewhere off in the distance, but I can sense that it’s closing in on us quickly. I pleaded with him, one last time, to come into the closet with the rest of us, because the tornado was coming. He lowered his head, and without a word, turned and walked away. I throw the blanket back over our heads and I begin to pray fervently out loud again. As I began to pray louder, I could feel the pressure of the tornado, in my ears. I can feel the movement of the tornado, all around me.

The wind begins to pick up around us. I  can sense that the house around me is being pulled apart and demolished. The clothes hanging in the closet are swinging back and forth on the hangers. I see the boxes and excess junk in our closet, fly up and away. I can feel it. I can hear it. I can hear myself screaming, somewhere far away. I can even taste the dirt and rain water in the air. I can smell it, even. My senses are on overdrive. The panic and desperation to protect my children inundated my entire being. I could feel the suction from the tornado around us, beyond the comforter that was providing a layer of protection. Yet I could feel the stillness of the air, beneath the blanket and knew that we were safely seated in my closet, unharmed. I’m aware that there is no tornado in my present reality. But I certainly am experiencing a tornado, in some reality. 

And then I felt it. The feeling was undeniable, and impossible to explain. A part of my soul escapes from my body and begins to spin around the three of us, creating a force field of protection. The air around us whips, as my soul spins faster and faster. I can see the deep purple light of my aura flicker in my peripheral vision as it whirls around the three of us. Flickers of deep blue and fuschia dance within the light around me. The pressure of our bodies being pulled through another dimension, began to suffocate me and I struggled to find my breath. It quite literally felt as if we were being pulled up, and through a straw.  I grasped on to my children tighter, pulling them both into my chest. We floated above our bodies for a split second, as the chaos around us ensued and our bodies sit unharmed beneath our astral view. I look over my shoulder and see the energy from my husband and son, levitating just behind us. A blue and green fluorescent light, twinkles where their souls sit suspended in the air. A pleasant voice pops into my mind, “Just a moment longer. You’ll be safe here.” The tightness in the air around us begins to lessen as our astral pairs with our dense physical body and find a center in our new reality. I can literally feel, “good and evil,” fighting over our souls above our heads. As we float above our bodies in astral form, our Earthly bodies lie safely below. We are caught momentarily; somewhere between dimensions and timelines. My current reality takes hold as I feel my soul deep within my physical body, return. A soft “pop” mutters in both of my ears; as if my soul were clicking back in to place. I feel the roughness of the worn carpet, beneath my legs; letting me know that my spirit has returned to my human body. I’m too scared to look up; afraid I may see what I have just experienced. I squeeze my eyes shut and begin to pray aloud as I nestle my children tightly beneath my arms. “God, please protect us. Please!” I begged again as I felt the pull of a dark energy pawing at us, somewhere from far beyond our current reality. Finding comfort in knowing we were safely sitting inside my closet.   

Suddenly, my daughter, who has been quiet the entire time, speaks. “Mommy, I feel it too.” Piper says out loud. “I feel it right here.” She pulls down the collar of her striped pajama shirt, to reveal three scratch marks, perfectly across her chest. “I’m not scared anymore, so you do not have to be either,” she whispers. She reaches out and squeezes my arm, and the energy pulsing from her little hands almost shocks me. As she speaks, I can feel the tornado has passed and the air, outside of the blanket that protects us, is calm again. Our bodies and souls are safely together in our new reality.  

After only a few moments, I  pull the blanket safely from our heads. I  can feel that the air around us is different. I can feel that I, myself, am different. My body feels lighter, less dense even. But, I am no longer scared. Even though everything looks the same, I sense that something is different, and I can not quite put my finger on it. It is almost as if, I am somewhere new. I shake the creepy thought from my head, as quickly as it pops in. “This is not normal,” I thought to myself as I replayed the events that just happened in my mind. 

I stand up and cradle my still sleeping toddler, and reach my hand down to help Piper stand up. She looks up at me with her big, round, blue eyes and says, “We are safe now Mommy. Jesus will protect us.” I’m taken aback by her comment and how much truth it resonates in my own spirit.  I can not lie; her comment made me feel a little uneasy. I smile back at her, “I know baby. We are safe now.” I told her. Not sure if I believe it entirely myself.  “So, she felt Jesus, too.” I ponder silently.  

The three of us walk into the living room to find Dominik and Kaden; still watching the weather on our television. There are tornado warnings in several areas around us, by this point, but none are headed in our direction. This helps me ground myself and find a little comfort in the situation. I adjust Ryder, ever so slightly, so I can sit comfortably next to my husband on the sofa.  “I think you just had a ‘bad trip,’ babe,” Dominik spoke, as he kissed me gently on the temple and squeezed my right knee. “Maybe, “ I  replied weakly. I smiled softly in his direction, to make him think I was more sane than I felt. He suggested I take a cold shower, and drink some coffee. But I knew that neither of those things would really help. 

“Now what was it you were trying to tell me, earlier?” he questions; taking Ryder from my lap and placing his arm around my neck. “It was nothing. I’ll tell you another time,” I lied to him. What I really wanted to tell him was that I just felt Jesus, battle Satan for my soul; and won. I wanted to tell him that we had just jumped into another dimension. I wanted to tell him that our Earthly bodies had died; in our previous dimension. I wanted to tell him everything.  But, he would think I was crazy.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


Kirsten is a wife and mother of three children. When she has a spare moment to herself you can find her expressing herself creatively through art and music. Although Kirsten is locally known for being a Fine Art Portrait Photographer; she has always had a secret love for writing. If anything, she has discovered how healing, writing can be. Through her story, she aspires to bring awareness to several important, but controversial modern day topics. Kirsten is a strong believer in micro-dosing with medicinal marijuana and making changes to the mental healthcare system, specifically for women. She is an advocate for Mothers struggling with mental illness and unresolved traumas. Kirsten hopes to use her story of overcoming childhood trauma, struggles with motherhood and mental illness; to evoke healing in those who will resonate with this story. Although the story itself has been fictionalized for entertainment purposes, it is very much inspired by true events.

Recent Posts

Finding Kirsten | Prologue

Finding Kirsten | Chapter One

Finding Kirsten | Chapter Two

Finding Kirsten | Chapter Three

keep me in the loop

%d bloggers like this: