What Happens When We Die
A (somewhat) Rational Medium's Guide To The Afterlife
Part II: What I know about the Afterlife (and why it’s nothing like you’ve been told).
The Afterlife, According to the Ones Who’ve Been There
If Part 1 was about how mediumship barged in, uninvited, mid-life — this one’s about what it actually taught me. Death isn’t some vague mystery I politely ponder anymore. I’ve seen too much, heard too much, and read a frankly absurd number of books to pretend it’s just “the end.”
Spoiler: it’s not. It’s more like… course correction. With paperwork.
The Soul’s Blueprint
If you’ve read Part 1, you know how I stumbled (okay, was dragged) into mediumship. But becoming a Medium didn’t just open a channel — it opened questions. Big ones. About what really happens when we die, where we go, and what all this living is even for.
Eventually, it wasn’t just curiosity — it was necessity. I needed to understand what happens to us when we die. When we cross over. When the body gives out, but the soul keeps going. After all that reading, all those experiences, and all that listening, this is what I firmly believe to this day:
We are energy. We are scattered sparks of a universal consciousness (Jung would be proud), like millions of pieces from the same divine jigsaw puzzle. Energy, as science tells us, cannot be created or destroyed — only transformed.
Course Selection and Soul Contracts
So what are we doing here in these glitchy, glorious human forms?
We’re learning. How to love. How to be loved. How to be better, kinder, wiser versions of ourselves. That’s the point. (As for why that’s the point — well, that’s another article.)
We travel in groups — soul families — some energies closer to us than others. There’s no time or space on the other side (thank you, Quantum Physics), but we periodically incarnate. Come to Earth. Like spiritual exchange students.
And here’s the kicker: We choose it. The life. The conditions. The lessons. Before we arrive. Not all the details, mind you — but the blueprint. The syllabus. Once we’re here, free will takes over. (And sometimes, our choices are the plan — tricky, huh?)
We choose our soulmates, our roles in each other’s lives. The great heartbreaks. The great loves. The difficult parents. The too-short friendships.
Some souls don’t have to come back — they’ve done their learning, passed all their exams, got their cosmic diploma. But they come anyway. Volunteer teachers. Helpers. Nudgers of fate.
Sometimes, we choose a hard life — not because we’re masochists, but because we want to grow faster. We sign up for the spiritual equivalent of Organic Chemistry. And sometimes, we need a break, so we enroll in Underwater Basket Weaving. Lovely? Sure. But not exactly soul-stretching.
It’s like university: the harder the course, the more it sticks. The easy ones? You barely remember them.
Soulmates, Trauma, and Review
As for soulmates — yes, we have many. And no, it’s not all candlelight and violins. Some soulmates never incarnate with us. They stay back and act as guides. Others come into our lives to challenge us, stretch us, even break us open. The most difficult relationships can be the most karmically significant. We choose the roles we play in each other’s stories — and sometimes that includes being the villain.
That’s kind of what happens. In cases of sudden death — like car crashes or trauma — the soul often leaves the body before the actual moment of physical death. It steps out early to avoid the trauma. In comas, the soul may linger — watching, deciding, waiting for clarity. Sometimes they don’t want to go. Sometimes they already have. Then we go through our life review (the sequence varies, but the outcome is the same).
Once we cross over, we become omniscient — we know everything. But we also remember everything. I mean everything. Every detail of pain we caused someone. Every hurt our loved ones felt because of us. And as we go through this review, we don’t just know it. We live it — not through our own eyes, but through the eyes of the person we hurt. Because we are part of the same bigger energy. And we feel their pain. It hurts. A lot. The more pain we caused, the more it hurts us.
But here’s the flip side — we also feel the love. Every moment of joy, kindness, connection — we feel that too.
Incidentally, I firmly believe the concept of Heaven and Hell came from this. Maybe some guy named Johan in 300 BC had a near-death experience and told the village. Who knows. But this is what I think Heaven and Hell actually are.
“Turns out, the Afterlife has receipts.”
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Guides, God, and the Big Weird
After we review our life, we return to our Soul Groups with the knowledge of what we did well and where we royally screwed up. We figure out how to fix it “next time.” And then — after a brief rest and study period — we go back into another body, hoping to get it right.
And so it goes.
People who have killed or committed suicide have the hardest time. Think about it: suicides “quit the class” and have to take it over again. Murderers? They prevented someone else from finishing theirs — so they get twice the homework.
Two questions I get asked a lot: God and Aliens.
God? I don’t know. I don’t know how anything started or who (or what) created it. In all the studies I’ve read about life between lives, no one mentions the very beginning. I do believe there’s something higher than all of us. We’re all connected. And because of that, Jung’s idea of synchronicity makes perfect sense. Yes, everything has a purpose. Nothing happens by chance. But our human brains don’t get the full memo.
Aliens? Why not? Why would we be the only ones here, on one little blue marble, in an infinite sandbox of planets?
And finally — since becoming a Medium, I’ve met some of my spirit guides (lots of meditation involved). One of them clearly isn’t in human form, although I couldn’t exactly describe her. Then one day, I read an article about an Australian woman who had a clinical death. She drew the beings she saw. I nearly fell over. They looked exactly like my guide — except hers were purple, and mine is more pinkish lavender. Still. Close enough to make you wonder.
So when people ask me if their loved ones are okay — I just smile.
Why wouldn’t they be? They’re home. With their soulmates. Probably judging your outfit.
Oh — and for everyone asking me about ghosts? I have plenty to say. In fact, that’s what we’re diving into next:
Part 3. Buckle up — it’s going to get weird (and possibly full of unexpected visitors).
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