What Is Our Soul & Why Is It So Important When We Die?

As human beings most of us have been taught that we consist of body, soul, and spirit. We know what our physical bodies are, and depending on what we believe spiritually, we can readily grasp the awareness of spiritual beliefs, and how they shape the inner person. But what exactly is the soul?

Our soul resides inside of our body, and consists of our mind, thoughts, intellect, and emotions.

For the longest time, I thought I had been targeted by a religious fundamentalist high school teacher because he was a complete self-absorbed king-kong type chauvinist, with the hots for a teen age girl. I also knew that he saw me as a golden opportunity to use as a fund raising mascot for the Exclusive Brethren religious cult he was steeped in. But that was only a part of the whole plot. His main objective was mind control.

There was opportunism, victimization, objectification, and an all out attack on my mind, which in turn led to a great deal of emotional pain. Constant accusations, shame, humiliation, entrapment – were all part of the lying scheme.

As time goes on I am increasingly cognizant of the soul destroying aspect of what he was aiming to do to my life. It was definitely all about attacking my mind and emotions. The nightly brain washing sessions were geared towards thought reform. He used tactics of sleep deprivation, fear mongering, skewed Bible verses, and constant degradation of me and my mother.

He did not even know our mother, yet he had vitriolic hatred for her. She was the most despicable, sinful, horrible creature on earth. In fact, he would claim she was non-redeemable. Then he would drop his head as if it pained him to make such a statement. He would say, “I know that is a hard thing to accept.” Like I had no choice but to accept his authority on who is redeemable and who is not.

I mean this guy was a twenty-something year old brand new teacher at my high school in a hick prairie town of 454 people. Yet just because he was a teacher, he seemed to think it also meant he was god. He had the swaggering and untouchable arrogance like he was the almighty authority over all things.

This was a teacher, who I did not even know existed, before he showed up as some kind of tough guy guru in Warburg, Alberta. Yet simply based on being a teacher, he had the audacity to follow me around, chase me down, force me into a car, and then forcibly confine me all night long. He did it many times in the months before I graduated.

At the time I was a vulnerable student, just months away from graduating and making an escape, from the public school in the small town that had employed him as a teacher. I was born on a farm seven miles from Warburg. He was a complete outsider. Both of my parents were alive at the time, and I did have family in the community as well.

How I wish he had either been arrested at the time, or better yet, got a job in some other town. I would have been spared so much of the agony he brought to my life. If I allowed it to, the rage and indignation over his incredible gall, would have consumed me by now.

For starters, where do our thoughts come from? There are actually Universal laws surrounding thought processes. Our thoughts stem from our identity, which is established at birth or soon after birth, perhaps even before we are born. Our identity and individuality is intrinsically understood based on our family of origin. We exist as a part of, or extension of first our mothers, then the awareness of our own physicality, and presence in our family of origin.

Although no one really knows when thought processes begin in an infant child, those thoughts are inextricably linked to identity, and especially to our mothers in utero and after birth. As time goes on, we get a better understanding of the impact of birth order, and other relationships. Therefore a big part of attacking the mind and soul, also attacks relationships.

When the teacher fixated on me when I was in high school, and had cooked up a scheme with my older brother to make an outrageous and false adoption claim, he was attacking my identity, my mind and my emotions. It was a life long, soul destroying endeavour he stubbornly embarked upon. He also set out to rip the family apart, and make himself more important in my own family than I was. He actually managed to do that as well. My big shot older brother remains closely aligned with the teacher. They are continuing the lies, and attacks into the next generation.

The question of whether the devil or his minions can attack our minds, is pretty obvious to me now. How does a person reconcile the constant lies when someone is trying to convince you that you are not who you think you are? I was sixteen years old when this guy stalked and pounced on me. Did he really think he was going to change my identity at that stage in life? Was he delusional enough to believe his own lies? Or is he so evil that he stubbornly and purposefully continues to lie, in a soul destroying fight to the finish?

There is no doubt in my mind that the number one focus in most satanic type attacks, is the mind. For me, this has been a lifelong battle. The minute I refuted the lies, I was accused of being selfish, mentally ill, wicked like our mother, who was not wicked at all; but that was all part of the whole ruse. They used this ploy to set up a lifetime of persecution.

Our earliest recollections and identity, are based on being an extension of our mothers, therefore I can now see why that was so much a part of the teacher’s repertoire. He repeatedly told me my mother was wicked, evil and non-redeemable. He repeatedly told me I was HIS daughter, which struck me as being beyond bizarre. He had made the unilateral decision that my mother did not deserve to be my mother.

The all night sessions were very dark. The room was dark, with just enough light to reflect off his glasses. It was like something out of the twilight zone, listening to him rant and ramble on all night. One night, I got up and bolted for the door, but he caught me on the landing before I could get the door open. I honestly thought he might kill me, when he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me away from the door. I looked into a face of absolute rage. “You better not try that again” he growled.

He would allow me to go home around five am, so I could get a couple hours sleep, and then get ready for school. I had to face this guy in school all day. He was also the girls basketball coach. He would stare at me like we had some kind of special secret. I felt revulsion to the core of my being, but there was no escaping him or his lies.

During those many dark and tortuous nights when this teacher forcibly confined me in his living room, with his wife and young children sound asleep in their beds, he hammered me with skewed Bible verses, accusations, humiliation, shame, and claims that God told him to adopt me.

The teacher and his wife were a little more than a decade older than me. I remember thinking, “So did they have a child when they were ten or eleven years old? I wonder what the birth experience was like for them? Were they elated when I was born?” It just seemed so absurd I could not process it in my mind. I know that I am very lucky to have come through it all, without losing my mind.

When I was much younger than sixteen, I knew where I came from. I knew who I was. But that meant nothing at all to this aberrant teacher.

When a person is attacked by such a cultish, domineering and violent mentality, it is beyond description. He used his teacher and god authority to attack my mind. He repeatedly told me I had the exact same IQ as his wife. I knew that had to be a lie, yet I was ordered to have the utmost respect for this wonderful Christian. Often when my tyrannical older brother would order me to “Be grateful for the wonderful Christian”, I would say, “What is so wonderful about him? He lies.”

I always had a vague understanding of the soul within us. But I did not really understand it until I had a near death experience with anaphylaxis a couple years ago. During that rapid onset loss of blood pressure and obstructed airway, there was a very temporary out of body experience.

I have not drank alcohol for at least fifteen years, and had not taken any drugs or medications, so was very alert throughout the whole experience. It started in the middle of the night, when I was awakened with extremely itchy hands.

My first thought was that it was some kind of autoimmune reaction, like psoriasis maybe. I tried for a few minutes to go back to sleep, thinking I would deal with it in the morning. Within minutes, I woke up again with unbearably hot and itchy hands. I could feel swelling, constriction and itching in my throat as well. So I thought I better get up and figure out what was going on.

When I stood up, I felt extremely dizzy and faint. I realized my blood pressure must be very low. My hands were swelling so fast, it felt like the skin in the webbing between my fingers was splitting open. I managed to get down the hall and into the kitchen as things were going black, switched on the light, and sat down on a chair, putting my head down below the level of my heart to stay conscious. I saw the hives and scalding body rash, and knew it was full blown anaphylaxis, that it was life threatening, and had advanced rapidly. I started praying, and thinking about what to do next.

I thought, I better get to the phone and try to call 911. That was next to impossible. The phone was about fifteen or twenty feet away. I lifted my head and looked around, to make sure I would not collapse and crack my head on something, and then got up and tried to walk.

I made it just a few feet, before everything went black and I collapsed on the floor. It was like just flopping over, with absolutely no control over my body or the directions I was giving it.

That was when my soul left my body, right there on the kitchen floor. I was momentarily directly above my body, looking down on myself. I remember thinking – if I saw someone on the floor like this as a nurse in a hospital setting, what would I do? The answer was, I would get out the crash cart and call a code.

Then I thought, but you don’t have any of that here, so get up, stay conscious and maintain an airway. From looking down on myself, I knew that otherwise, I would convulse and die right there on the floor. I could not stay like that. I could not even crawl. I remember thinking, it looked like I had been sprayed with Raid. Without the chance to make the observation like that, I am not sure I would have known what to do, so in hindsight it was a benefit.

One of the amazing things to me was that I was like a rag doll, already to the point where I could not maintain a blood pressure, yet my mind was as alert as if I was racing down a mountainside. In fact, the next day as I thought about it, I likened the experience to being in your own private airplane crash.

Things just happened so fast. It’s like, Oh Oh, this could be bad. Then it rapidly got worse. Each few seconds, things deteriorated, in rapid succession toward the grand finale.

Meanwhile the struggle to get a few feet to a phone – it might as well have been ten miles away. Even if I would have made it that far, I would not have been able to pick up the phone or speak anyway. I could not have picked up a syringe or epi-pen to give myself an injection of adrenalin, or even hit a panic button, if it was five feet away. I could not speak or call out to anyone.

My mind was trying to figure out how to survive each second with full concentration, no different than if I was falling off a horse at full speed. There was a fair bit of natural adrenalin that kicked in. The adrenalin was affecting my mind, but you would not have known it to look at me.

It was a brief out of body experience, but very clear. I could see the dust on the top of the refrigerator. I quickly came back into my body, with the command to get up and get in a seated position with my head below my heart, and lean forward enough to get my swollen tongue out of the way so I could get each breath.

After struggling for what seemed like forty-five minutes just to breathe, I realized the next day, that it was probably only a few minutes. If I would have died, it would have been considered sudden, but it did seem to go on much longer. Every breath was such a struggle. Afterwards, I tried to estimate the time frame by the number of breaths I had struggled to get. Each one was a huge effort.

At the end of this whole ordeal, I finally concluded that never mind trying to take another breath, my heart was not going to take another refill. I could feel the impending circulatory collapse. At that point, I gave up and accepted death. Before that point, I was determined to stay conscious, but it was just too difficult.

I remember asking God, why? Why this? What did I do when I was sleeping to cause this? What did I eat? What infection or sepsis, or immune response caused this? In those milli seconds, the knowledge of what was going on flooded my mind. It was like a textbook of information came in all at once. I was about to leave my body for the last time and I knew it. I remember thinking, I am going to leave, and go right out that window and see what is going on out there. It was like there was a crackling of activity all around me.

At that moment I had no airway at all. Then things changed very suddenly again, and I started a succession of retching. I never left my body again. I think the retching, combined with the closed airway, worked as a form of internal cardiac massage. I felt like I was on fire, and in the midst of some sort of divine intervention. It was like the spirit world I was heading for, came to help me instead.

By this time I had third spaced so much fluid, my hands were swollen like baseball mitts. It felt like I was on fire inside. I had chosen to sit up and let myself go unconscious, because it was so difficult to keep bending so far forward to get the next breath. It felt like there was an iron rod in my chest that I had to lean over, which caused a fair bit of pain. If I sat up, it alleviated the pain, but I knew I would lose consciousness if I sat up. I decided it no longer mattered, and would be a relief to lose consciousness.

The only way I can describe what came next, was like a force from outside pushed my head down, and told me to hold on. It was like being picked up, turned inside out and given a shake. Every single pore on the surface of my skin opened up and poured out the toxic fluid. I was soaked, and the floor around me was in puddles. After all the retching, I vomited once. After that I felt immediate relief of the pain and sensed less spasm in my throat and airway.

It was like the core muscles had kicked into a coordinated effort to get rid of the toxins. That combined with the amazing function of how the skin serves as the largest organ, was quite astounding to me afterward. My body got rid of all that toxic fluid, and those reactions signalled the climax of it all. I lived through it. The worst of it was suddenly over.

It amazed me for many reasons, and on many levels. The fact I was able to shed all that toxic fluid was huge. I had seen enough third spacing of fluid to know it is usually an end of life stage. When a person is in ICU, it is very difficult to get rid of third spaced fluids. They have to rely on intravenous diuretics, and risk a chain reaction of causing more anaphylaxis by recycling the fluid through the system so the kidneys can detoxify and get rid of it.

I have never known or heard of any drug that can cause all the pores in the skin to open up and get rid of third spaced fluids. I doubt many people would let anaphylaxis go that far, to find out, if they could help it. I certainly am much more alert to the onset of allergic reactions now, and have an early intervention and treatment protocol set up in case it does. I would not want to go through it again, to test any theory.

After awhile, I managed to get into bed, and hung my head down over the edge of the bed to keep my tongue forward enough so I could breathe. I knew the airway was still quite constricted, but it was nowhere near as bad. The struggle for each breath was no longer the primary battle. The pain in my chest that had felt like a rod of hot iron, subsided very quickly.

Totally exhausted, I told myself I would wake up and check myself every fifteen minutes or so to see if I could move my fingers. After three or four checks, I knew the swelling was subsiding. Within an hour or so, I could put my head on the pillow and fell asleep for a few hours. Within a few more hours, I could close my hand and make a fist.

When I woke up and sat up, I wondered if I would have any long lasting effects. I knew I had to take in fluids and get a proper fluid balance restored, as well as get out of the wet pyjamas and sheets. So that’s what I did.

For a few days, and weeks, I gave a great deal of thought to the whole experience. It totally changed my outlook on death. I always wondered if I would fear death and how it would come about, but now I do not fear death at all.

I never had the same kind of near death experience that so many others describe, because I did not really go anywhere. There was no tunnel or bright light. But the experience had a profound impact on my understanding of what the soul is, and what it is like to die, or at least come so close, you surrender to it. The exit is different than what one would expect. Your body dies, but your soul does not.

As I look back at the many attempts by the teacher, and my older brother, to attack and destroy my mind, there is much more clarity on how it was an attempt to destroy my soul.

Now when you think of the targeted and determined attempt to attack or destroy the mind, in many ways it is worse than attacking the physical body, because our soul is what we are left with in the end. It is what we take with us to eternity.

Why does anyone want to isolate us and then attack our mind and thoughts? How can we prevent such attacks traumatizing us on an emotional level?

When I was young and constantly being physically assaulted by my older brother, he also mocked, shamed, humiliated, and did everything he could to exclude me from being a member of the family. Later on, he schemed with the teacher to set up an adoption lie. How many older siblings get to give a younger sibling up for adoption? Only in my big brother’s world of delusion and abuse of power.

Now I am beginning to understand all the tactics of the soul-destroying attempts by psychopathic individuals. They are constantly in attack mode, or they are setting you up for another baseless attack.

The most recent attack on my mind was set up by my brother and involved a mental health therapist. I got suckered into this under the guise of helping family relationships, and gaining some family support. Nothing could have been further from the truth, as usual.

The construction company obviously has hired guns in those EAP programs. It is strange because all the years I worked as a nurse, to include the aftermath of my husband’s untimely death, I never once used the employee EAP program. But I entered into those counselling sessions hoping it would help alleviate some of the family conflict over the teacher.

The entire counselling episode revolved around blaming me, and finding a diagnosis to saddle me with. The woman EAP counsellor acted like she was out for blood. My blood. I tried to tell her about the past. I told her this was a re-victimization. I told her that what she was doing was unlawful. But she would not listen. If I sent her an email telling her this was more abuse and revenge from my older brother, she promptly forwarded it to the construction company that hired her.

She tried to diagnose me, picking up and waving a DSM manual in the air. She was reminded that she is not qualified to make any diagnosis, so she began manipulating a psych assessment. When I resisted that, she got pushier.

Finally I went, and in the end, they could not come up with any real diagnosis. In a five minute interview with a psychiatrist, telling him the verifiable truth about the adoption con and family of origin abuse, he told me I was delusional.

But since I had told the truth, and the psychiatrist did not do any fact checking – it was a misdiagnosis and a mistreatment. Besides that, in this current world of extreme polarities, is there anyone who is not considered delusional by someone?

To keep it simple. I told him a teacher had abducted and forcibly confined me repeatedly, when I was a student in school. I explained that, in collusion with my older brother, they made false claims that I was adopted by this teacher. I also told him my brother is now the second largest shareholder of Canada’s second largest construction company. These things are verifiable with a paper trail of documentation and countless witnesses.

When the psychiatrist learned that I had written a book about it, he blurted out, “Oh that is just terrible.” How was I to interpret that response? I can only conclude – fascism is alive and well in the field of psychiatry. That was my one and only experience with one, and I will make sure it never happens again.

All I can say is that it is crucial to protect our minds from these kinds of unsavoury attacks. Why are we being bombarded in the media with so much fear mongering and negativity? It is an attack on our minds. Brain washing, indoctrination, thought reform – like so many other things, all share a similar pattern. It focuses on the mind, which leads to negative thoughts based on fear, anger, and negativity. Those thoughts lead to emotional pain, self examination, self recrimination, resentment, bitterness, helplessness, hopelessness, dependency, etc. Those who are basically evil, know they are attacking the soul.

It may have been my own pride, but for years I thought the attacks on my mind were because I had scored high on IQ tests and accelerated through school. But now, I am beginning to understand that this attack on the mind and emotions is not about IQ, it is an attempt to destroy the soul.

If you defy them or if they see you as a threat, they will punish and humiliate in every way they can. It is definitely a male dominance thing. If you cross them on a larger scale, such as exposing the con, they are that much more vengeful. My brother retaliates in every conceivable way.

What is hard to understand is why they did not just drop it long ago. I am not opening up and going public about this on impulse. I have been saying no to this all my life. It has been years of crying, pleading, threatening to write a book, etc.

I reported it to the police several times, the Alberta Teacher’s Association, various Ministries in Alberta, the Warburg school and umbrella school district – you name it. And they still would not stop forcing the teacher on me, which is pretty much based on Ron’s power in the family and role with Ledcor.

Ron will never stop manipulating abusive cons and control over my life. The teacher will manipulate access to me until the bitter end. There is no way I am going to let that happen. So why would they continue, at the expense of the reputation of such a large company?

Why would they bring the dysfunctional history of our family out into the open? They have literally forced it out into the open, because they refuse to take no for an answer. The refuse to listen. They refuse to stop it. What else can I do but share the story? Edification is a good thing. There has to be some good come out of so much adversity.

If God exists, then within the framework of believers, the devil exists as well. The devil knows we will all eventually die physically. He wants to destroy us for all eternity, after bringing misery to us while we are alive. He wages psychological warfare.

Some horrific crimes are carried out that attack people physically, but in those cases, the perpetrators are usually caught and jailed. The less outwardly graphic, soul destroying attacks on our mind and emotions, are not seen for what they are, in the realm of our earthly existence. But they are extremely damaging and destructive to the victim, removing all hope. How dare they?

I used to think if I could only get rid of the stalking, lying teacher, I would be fine. But, the real culprit is my older brother. I hope to get through to him that I will not allow him to attack my mind again. When he could no longer attack me physically without getting arrested, he channelled all of his attacks into emotional, psychological and spiritual attacks.

It is true that the end game in life as we know it, is the battle between good and evil. We do battle against principalities and corrupt rulers, more than anything. We fear the destruction of our body and physical death, but in reality, we must guard our mind, our thoughts and our emotions. We cannot preserve our bodies, but it is essential that we protect and preserve our soul. For that is what we are left with in the end.

“If someone has absolute control over you, it’s easy to believe they have absolute power over everything and everyone. They can’t be defied or challenged or disobeyed, and every opportunity for escape just feels like a cruel test.” 
― Josiah Bancroft, The Hod King

“Riches I hold in light esteem,
And love I laugh to scorn,
And lust of fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn.

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, ‘Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!’

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
‘Tis all that I implore –
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.” 
― Emily Bronte, The Complete Poems