Beyond belief...

Belief n. Something that is trusted or believed.

Believe v. To trust as true or real; to hold onto religious beliefs.

How can a person be so apt to accept things as they are and believe in something so much there is not a doubt in his mind about what lies beyond only what a human is able to see? How does a person gain that much faith? How does one not question the mysteries of life or wonder about how certain things have been evolved or created? I've always thought that as long as you believe in something that keeps you going daily and as long as you keep a belief going, that's all that mattered--even if you decided to change your belief. I personally really don't have that much to believe in. I'm actually talking deeper than religion.

I wonder daily about the existance of my personal self and I wonder if the answer is often worth the pain and suffer we go through in most situations. Speaking from a person with depression and mild anxiety, that is a lot to take in. I just start to question why I am here. Why was I put on this earth? Why was I created into the society and life that I am in? Is there anyone else like me anywhere else in the world? If there is will I ever meet her? I do know I am straying off topic here a little. My brain tends to wonder in directions it shouldn't.

As I was sitting and staring up at the sky, I wondered why was beyond what we know. We can see the ground, touch it, feel it. We know there is a sky because we can see it. But beyond that, it seems unknown. I'm not talking the scientific facts of the ozone or anything that can be proven by a little science, I am talking the belief that there is life waiting for us. Until this point in my life, I've always had people kind of directing me into what I should/shouldn't believe. It's a hard state to be in.

All I really have gotten from studying the way life works and studying those around me who have grown ill, I have learned that people do die. It is nature. Nature will get to all of us at a pace only we can deal with. It's a hard time for anyone who has to lose a loved one, trust me I'm the one to know. But I wondered that if when you're all the sudden done with life, does it just end for you? What I mean is, when you find the meaning to your own existance, is that the end? And those who have passed on before being born or very young, was there no meaning to their survival? Was it their death that meant more to most than the life they could have lived? I don't exactly understand how people just play it off as "Well, that's how things are supposed to be." and not question why. Even as a Christian in my younger days, I questioned why things happened. I also wondered when the next thing would happen and the truth is, no one ever knows. Which is also why I discovered the belief that when a person discovers why his life is on earth, he will pass away without telling us the secret to his life. The question will remain forever unanswered.

I'm not sure as to what is beyond this life or even if I believe there is some god figure. Some say it's safer to believe than to not but even if you follow by this law of society, you don't truly believe in a god. You are following a bandwagon and if there is a such thing as Hell, you will be going for living your life as a lie. Am I correct? The more I contemplate on this, the more I don't understand such things as religion or believing in something. I do admit, people seem happier if they have that thought there in their mind but I'm just asking if there is an answer to my questions about the whole perspective. Am I missing a huge part of this religion thing? Does beliving in something make it your religion? And if that is your religion, do you have a special name for something that isn't written in books or given a label? If you don't believe in anything do you honestly have any morals or anything to go by that makes you more of a person than anyone else? Could you go out and kill someone with no remorse for what you have done? I know there are laws stating otherwise (and that is a thing to be thankful for, think if there wasn't).

As I end my thought process, I would actually like feedback from anyone who reads this. And your comments may be annoynamous. And you may email them to me instead of posting publicly. What do you believe in and what is your religion? Any thoughts on this blog are more than welcomed by me. I would enjoy reading all of those who post or email me with your private thoughts on the matter.

Its been too long...

<p>It has been a little while since my last post and it's strange how things have changed. Same job, less friends, new boyfriend, new puppy. Basically its all coming together.</p>
<p>My depression is still getting bad at times and although I have suffered the downfalls, I am still alive--I may never understand why. I thought since I started taking medications I wouldn't need to write my thoughts down or anything of the like. The truth is, I still need a place to vent and ramble. </p>
<p>I haven't been sleeping lately.&#160; Just my brain is filled with so much. I miss being able to get through anything with a smile and laugh any situation off. I can't do that anymore. I feel as if I am too alone to even attempt a smile at times.&#160; Not that anyone cares but I still admit that it's hard to get out of bed at times. It's hard living with who I am and what I've done. I don't understand why. I've done everything I know how to get my life together at the very best I could but I can't help but feeling as if I am missing something. And I don't think I can do this alone. I'm improving everyday but I still have a long way to go to get to where I need to be.</p>
Maybe soon, I can possibly get rest and figure things out. Until then I will wait for the storm to pass.

Ch. Two

As I flew down the stairs of my new house to stop the annoying sound of the doorbell, I saw a flash as I passed by a mirror. The feel of someone was watching me, their eyes following my every move. I ignored the overwhelming sense, as anyone would do but some how I still could not shake this feeling. I thought maybe since it was a new house that I had just moved into and it was getting late, it was just the creaking boards that made me paranoid. I quickly turned from the mirror and continued down the stairs to the door. 

When I opened the door, I saw only a note. At first I was reluctant to read such a thing left at my door step on the dirty welcome mat. I looked down at it, stared for a moment. I laughed to relieve my concern, "I really need to do something about this mat. It's disgusting. No wonder someone would rather leave a note than stand and wait on me. They probably think I'm some hippie or hobo or something to that effect." I picked the note up, closing the door and locking it back into place. For an old house, it had a lot of dead bolts on the door. Something was either trying to get in, or get out and couldn't find a way.

I walked into my kitchen, fixed a bowl of cereal, and sat down. Not much of a dinner, I do admit that, but that's not the strange part. As I was eating, I glanced over at my window and saw the same flash I did earlier up stairs. My heart starts pounding against my chest as I slide from my chair and back away from the window and doors. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, or rephrasing that, I had no idea what was getting into my house. My heart is beating so loudly I cannot hear anything over it. I breath steadily and keep staring at the window. Nothing. I look at the note laying on the table.

I knew I had left it laying closed. I hadn't even opened it, but some how right where I was sitting, it opened and lay before me. "How is this even possible?" I started to question myself, "I glanced up for only a split second. And now it's open. Maybe I opened it when I saw that thing in the window. Oh no, look at me. Seeing things in windows and mirrors, talking to myself, opening mail and not realizing it. There's only one thing to say for yourself, Jane Anna-Lee, you're going crazy." 

Chuckling, I pick up the piece of paper laying on the table and drop it just as quickly as my eyes read across the page in perfect cursive, 

"I want you to know what happened to me that night on the bridge. Please? Help me?"

And it was signed with only one initial. "D."

D could mean a lot of things. Daniel, David, Darrel, Denise even. How was I to know who. A million thoughts raced through my head. I needed out of this house. And now. Just for a while. Clear my thoughts and hopefully find out what's going on tomorrow. One of the neighbors has to be playing a prank, or so I had thought.

I drove around town for what seemed like hours. It seemed to always make my mind go blank when I was out on the road. Nothing more relaxing than my favorite songs playing, the wind blowing at my face, and the sounds of the dirt road as it goes under my tires. This is the main reason of why I moved back home. This and my family. I would be lost without the country feel of life and without my mother cooking every Sunday. My mind faded into the thoughts of my mother and her warm loving home.

Out of no where, a pain streaks through my chest. I slam on the breaks, coming to a complete stop at once. A picture of my mother will not leave my mind. I see her in bed, crying, in pain. I feel the aching through my chest and see her struggling to breathe. I try to shake it out of my mind but I have to make sure she's okay. I spun out in the direction of her house, "Only a few more seconds, Mom. Please hold on." As I arrived, I saw her bedroom light on. I know she leaves the key under the doormat. I remove the key and when I try to unlock the door, the door swings open. I step inside, looking around.

I call upstairs and all around, "Mom? Are you home? Mother? Mom? Please talk to me."

I ran up to her bedroom and she was sound asleep. I startled her and woke her up. I apologized and turn to leave. Suddenly I hear a wheezing breath behind me so I turn back around as my mother grabs tight to her chest, yelling in pain. Without hesitation, I pick up the phone on the side table and call 9-1-1. I still remember that night to this day. That was a little more than five years ago. That's when I realized what I was able to do. Thankful for my gift for that reason, my mother is still alive and cooks for me regularly. I still can't figure out what happened that day, but something I saw in my vision took over every logical explanation and before I knew it, I saved my mother's life.

When I was younger, I always knew things that I shouldn't have. I could tell when my friends weren't feeling well and I could feel the pain they suffered. Little did I know it would help and haunt me to this day. Of course, there are other downs to this. I see dead people. Okay, maybe I should back up and tell you about that part as well? I do tend to jump ahead of things.

You see, people like me are often found... Well, they are often found in mental institutions. I found out about the dead when I was too young. That was pretty much my childhood. At one point in time, I had a father, mother, brother, two sisters, a dog, and a cat. My father was killed in a car accident when I was the age of two, my brother was killed on a playground by a drive by shooter when I was eight--he was only twelve--and two sisters both got killed coming home from a soccer game one night when I was ten--a drunk driver hit the car head on. Had it not been for my mother, I could have possibly went insane at an early age. 

When I was five, I had an imaginary friend. His name was Thomas. Thomas used to follow me everywhere he could. Thomas stayed around for most of my childhood until I was in my early teens. My mother took me to a therapist and they tried every medication they could think of but no matter what Thomas would not disappear from my life--which I always considered a good thing. When I was sixteen, Thomas and I were talking one day and he had something to show me. Of course, I trust him with my life no matter how imaginary or fake he is to others. I follow into the woods out behind the house. He places his hand on my shoulder and all I see is a bright white light. I then see a young boy laying on the road, ambulances and police all around. I also see a woman crying hysterically, yelling for her "baby". Finally I hear someone speak the name Thomas. Every inch of my skin grows cold as I continue watching the scene. I didn't understand it at first. He pulled his hand away and looked at me, wanting to explain but not finding any words to tell me what had just happened. 

He sighed, "I was killed. Someone ran over me when I was young. I have been your friend since the accident because of the past you've had with death. I thought you could reconnect me with my family and help me to cross over. I'm not brave enough to do it alone." I saw tears wailing up in his eyes as he spoke.

Ghosts cannot cry. They can appear to cry but they haven't the physical ability to cry. I have learned a lot since Thomas. In fact, he is the first one that I had to ever cross over. I miss him but sometimes I can hear the faint sound of his laugh and I know he's doing just fine. 

There are other countless experiences that I've had, but for now I will entertain you with the small things.

Ch. One

a nd it clouds my mind again, the same guilty thoughts that run through my mind like flood waters in the middle of the night. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't laugh, and I definitely can't find a way to forgive myself. I feel lost and alone, the only one left to save me will be me. And when that day comes, I'm not entirely sure I am strong enough to survive.

It seems as though everything I have in my life is slipping through my hands and just like that, my vision grows dim. I can't seem to recall the last time I felt like this, the ache that doesn't seem to go away and the never-ending heartache. It would be different if it was only mine.

I surround myself with darkness and loneliness for the simple reason I cannot take knowing everyone's thought, move, and how they are feeling at the time. Honestly, I enjoyed my life a lot more not knowing things I know now. It's cost me a lot of things in my life--but as someone once said, honesty is the best policy.

The nights are always the worst. Especially laying next to someone. Knowing if they are wanting me there or not. It seems more of a task just trying to be content than it is worth.

I wake every morning with the same routine. I shower, eat breakfast, get ready for work, work eight hours, come home, clean, and take a nap. I have no social life because of who I am. I have no one other than my close family. And even those visits are few and far in between. I stopped trying to find hobbies because other things take up more time than needed. I barely have time to enjoy a relaxing evening--I actually forgot what that is.

 I am a very unique person, I have known this all of my life but little did I know how much my life would change when I started to use my ability. Now that I have introduced myself, Jane Anna-lee Jones, I can begin to tell my story.