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I was a flat-out atheist, starting in my teens. There was no God, there was no afterlife, and all that woo-woo religious/spiritual stuff was just wishful thinking.
Then my best friend died when I was in my early 30s. Three days after he died, he paid me a visit. It was an incredible, profound experience, it was absolutely real, and it turned my reality on its head. I still didn't believe in any human conception of God (to this day I consider myself an agnostic theist because I believe the true nature of the divine is unknowable to us as humans). But I knew that we survive death--that there is something more to existence.
That was almost 13 years ago, and on the rare occasions when I tell someone that story I end up blubbering every time. I'm not someone who cries easily, but I just can't stop myself--it was such a powerful, life changing experience, and honestly, it was the most important, pivotal event in my life so far. Thanks to that experience, I have no fear of death. Even before I finally started doing some reading on the subject of the soul, and life after death, I knew there was nothing to fear.
I never would have believed any of it had I not had a direct, firsthand experience. I used to think people who claimed to have those experiences were lying, deluded, or engaged in wishful thinking. And in the years since, I've discovered that most people--including many who are spiritually inclined--see my story in a similar disbeliving light.
Which used to make me wonder, "Did I merely imagine his visit? Did it really happen?" But every time the question came up in my mind, I'd have the oddest feeling come over me. I can't describe it adequately iin words, but if I had to choose a metaphorical illustration, it was as if someone was shouting "No!" and reaching out to pull me back from the edge of a cliff.
Whether it was my friend, or my higher self, or my guide behind those bursts of intense emotion, I don't know. I'm not sure it matters. But after that happened a few times over the course of four or five years, I finally was able to completely accept what had happened, no matter what anyone else might try to tell me about my experience. I haven't doubted it since.
So I am extremely selective of who gets to hear my story. I either have to tell it in forums like this, where it doesn't sound strange at all, or I have to wait until someone receptive comes along, who is ready to hear it. It's a beautiful, priceless gift I was fortunate enough to receive, but I only share it with people who might have some inkling of its value.
As for the people who don't want to hear it, won't believe it, might think less of me for sharing it, or otherwise aren't receptive, I don't bother telling them. I'm not duty-bound to do so. We all go to the same place when we die, so I don't need to try "saving" them by trying to convince them my story is true. However many more lifetimes it may take, they'll receive the same gift eventually. We're eternal beings; we've literally got all the time in the world, and as many lifetimes as we might need in order to receive it.
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