Midnight Need

I stirred to you whispering my true name.

The resonance of your voice working its way through my body like warm honey

The name no one knows

The sacred

Melting my will

Do not let me leave this dream

I welcome you wholly

In this liminal space I feel

You

Inside

The taste of you

Driving my hunger

Burning from within

Hold me down here

I beg

The dawn is breaking

You fade like mist

Leaving me with a want

That may never be satisfied

My 40s in Symbols

I didn’t get my first tattoo until I was beginning my 40s. In a few days, I’ll be 49. Today I just got my 9th tattoo.

Each tattoo is a symbol for something. This past decade I have been through some very dark moments, and have shed many things of myself.

This was the first. I had just surpassed my Mother’s age of death. This is my blood, my Celt roots, my Nan, my Mom, my son and my daughter. This was my mark to celebrate the gift of life.

My Ouroboros and Pentacle. My rebirth into my spiritual practice. Something in me felt a deep pull to learn and reconnect to the things that speak to me. This would be more important than I would have ever guessed.
‘Witch Know Thyself’

This sigil is a reminder I am stronger than my demons. At this point in my life I had made a kind of peace that anxiety and CPTSD may always be a part of me, but they would not defeat me

Next in Moon Glyphs I choose to keep another version of the elements with me. The Pentacle being the other. The two on the top represent balance and life. It was a reminder that I will strive for harmony with in myself and my environment

Things started to get a little shaky for me. Mental health wise I shut down. A mix of burnout and elevation of anxiety and old trauma surfacing. Being compounded by upheaval and high tension around me.

A symbol to honour the Goddess Morrigan. I had connected with her to help guide me as I found my self in a very dark, anxious place. This was a reminder I was not alone in this pitch, she would prop me up when I fumbled.

There can be a point when it feels like all your pieces have blown apart. A raw exposed nerve. I felt so ugly, shamed, worthless. This piece ( The Enzo) represents finding beauty in unfinished imperfection. Even though I did not feel beautiful, I could identify with not yet being finished.

A very tumultuous time preceded a much needed break and reconnecting trip with my husband to my spiritual home – New Orleans

This was at the end of the first year of Covid, I knew my mental health was taking a hit. I was struggling under the weight of old trauma patterns I wanted to break. The uncertainty of the world, and a deep disconnected feeling. The arrow was to remind me know matter how far back I feel I’ve gone, my trajectory is forward. AKF has been an important part of sustaining me. It’s a wonderful online support ( Always Keep Fighting)

I have been doing intense work over the last year. Working on releasing trauma patterning, learning about myself, the light and dark. At times the realizations have been hard. The pain uncovered, the isolation. Things I want to repair but am unsure how, setting firm boundaries. Again I’ve called to the Morrigan to remind me that I’m am strong, a worthy warrior.

Which bought me to this, as I’m days away from my 49th. A reminder of the armoury I am building. I have defences that are not toxic, but are strong. It is within hands reach.

I do not know what this last year of my 40s will bring, what I do know is, that this past decade has had incredible highs and lows. I’ve gained and lost so much. I am hoping my 50s will be more learning but less drops. I know it will be recorded, the pictures on my skin a reminder to myself of my journey, my growth and my power.

A Message on the First Night of Yule

The 12 days of Yule have begun. It is also the night before Winter Solstice. I had been thinking over the weekend how I wanted to honour the start and celebrate my Ancestors, my Kin and my own Spirit.

The Universe directed me. I have hit a wall, a hard one. Physically, emotionally and mentally.

By the time I finished my ‘official’ day yesterday I was done, my body and mind were heavy and exhausted.

I went to bed early. Knowing enough to try to rest as today was another full tilt one.

This morning I had a headache and I felt like I ran a marathon ( this is a common body response when my anxiety has been high). While I have had some anxiety peaks in the last month, I did not feel this was the sole cause of my malaise.

I am burned out. The stress of the outside world has pecked away consistently at my armour. I have been on go for so long I’m not sure, other than when receiving a massage, when else I’ve actually hit pause. Even sleep feels like a momentary dead drop and right back at it.

It’s almost amusing, because one of the things on my never ending ‘to do’ list is to rearrange my schedule in the new year to have more ‘life, quiet, creative, connection time.’ It moved up the list to a top spot.

On this first day of Yule, the day to honour the Mother, the strong feminine, I honoured myself.

So today, I hit a full pause. I am grateful for the clients who understood, rebooked for another time and encouraged my day of rest.

I kept my pjs on. I ate light, I slept, read, listened to podcasts, curled up with my dogs.

I honoured my wisdom to listen to my body, my strength to not push through, I nurtured myself.

There is guilt lurking in the back ground, things left undone, not productive enough for the day. But the self talk I am practicing is that, this is what I needed, this was critical soul food. That in order to be present and participate, I needed this recharge.

Do I feel whole? No, but I feel a little more peace. The burning stiffness that anxiety trails through my muscles has softened. The pounding in my head receded. I don’t feel as emotionally drained.

I am not the only one. But I am one of the few that finally gave myself permission to stop.

I should have done it sooner. I have been the one who did not listen, who crashed hard with illness and yet kept going. Waiting for someone else to tell me it’s ok, that I am deserving to rest.

Do you feel this? Are you just trying to carry on despite everything?

On this first night of Yule, my gift to you is permission to hit pause.

You are worthy and you are very deserving.

Rest, move mindfully and know that’s more than enough.

Awkward Tales from the Shadows- Start Point

Other stories on this blog do a decent job of explaining a few things about me. As this journal progresses I imagine so much more will be revealed. But a little back story to what brought me to this ‘start point’.

I’m firmly entrenched in midlife, chronologically but in my head I still feel like I’m in my early 20s- I’d like to think that is perpetuated by my eternal curiosity.

I had a lot of trauma in my younger years. I have GAD ( generalized anxiety disorder) and CPTSD, those two combined at time are a big rollercoaster of hellish fun.

I struggle with chronic pain, some resulting from my mental health issues, some from old injuries and sadly I’m sure some is a little from age.

I am a practicing Pagan, a Grey Witch ( if such a title is needed).

I am a survivor of rape and abuse.

I work as a massage therapist, energy healer, teacher, tarot reader, intuitive and writer.

I am a mother to an incredible teen daughter and a biological mother to an amazing young man.

I am a wife, sister and friend.

I am amazingly strong and easily hurt.

I have hope that seems to stay like a beacon of light even when I feel taken down by despair

How did I come to the ‘dark night’ awakening?

I can not pin point one moment, but a cascade of things.

I dreaded my 40s for as long as I could remember, a fatalistic view really. My mother died at 44, I was 12. That death shadow hung over me, somewhere in my head I had always believed I too would be gone young. To that end, I did enough for my mental health to ‘survive’ to keep a lid on all the poison. I had fooled myself into believing I had a handle on my ‘stuff’. Because honestly could someone who didn’t ‘have it together’ how could I achieve so much?

I thought I had begun to do positive work, building a strong life.

Just after my 45th birthday there was a tipping event involving betrayal, abandonment, humiliation and a break down of self.

I was so lost, just trying to make it through the day and fill the expectations of the roles I play. My anxiety was getting worse, social anxiety symptoms that I hadn’t experienced in years took me down hard. To complicate matters, within a year, as a planet we entered a pandemic that is ongoing and we are feeling the acceleration of the effects of climate change. The darkness and fear was closing in. The grasping of things, friends, comprise of self, use of substances for escape all becoming a sand trap I was silently drowning in.

The cross roads epiphany struck like lightening ‘work through this, find your life spark or face soul and/or real death.’

First came the stacks of books, workshops and podcasts. I journaled, I had recognitions, insight and so much, however the amount of information and emotion surfacing became overwhelming.

Then the inner knowledge I need help filtering the all information in relation to myself. Due to the tipping event I did not feel that anyone in my circle was a reliable source of deep support. Also knowing that I was entering a place of really wanting to be able to observe myself with a ( hopefully loving) critical eye, professional help was needed. This was hard for me, I had not done therapy since I was a kid, I’d always believed I was self sufficient/smart enough to work through my things with books, workshops and podcasts. Finally making that decision, I was choosing self love. The Shadow work was really about to take a deep direction.

And so it began…

What is ‘Awkward Tales From The Shadows’ about?

Hello readers,

Until now this blog has been a stream of consciousness for me, often revolving around my battles with anxiety, some poetry and a few political rants. I’m going to add a couple of other streams of writing. I’m searching for my bravado to start adding some of my fiction to this site, and that will come. But the newest addition is going to come in a journal type format.

It will be identified under the heading of Awkward Tales from the Shadows. This is my journey of healing, determination, acceptance and accountability.

I am aiming to have a narrative about what I’ve actually been doing to work through my dark night ( well a three year night, but who’s counting) of the soul. The Shadow work I’ve undertaken, the revelations that have come from therapy, the revelations that have come from diving into my Pagan spiritual work and the physical work I am undertaking and how all of these things intersect in the relationships I have with others and myself.

I do not have a degree in psychology, I am not a doctor, what works for me, may not be suitable for you, dear reader. I am not writing this as a how to guide, each of our journeys and needs are unique, there is no shame in medications, therapy or any other help or healthy tools you need to grow in your life.

The truths are mine, the perceptions are mine. The losses and victories are mine.

Some people won’t like this, and that’s ok. This isn’t for them. I’m not writing this to punish or blame anyone- we all affect each other. I will not name people outright. But if they’ve had a part in my journey, for good, bad, ugly or a combination of all, then they will appear here. There are wonderful moments and people that have also had an enormous effect in shaping who I am. These are just as important to acknowledge as the trauma side of things. There are things that have happened to me that were not fair, kind or wanted. I do not have false gratitude for these events, but what I am working on is appreciating what I have been capable of doing to survive.

I’m on a mission. For myself, for my children and for anyone that may find a kindred spirit or inspiration in what I’m doing. This may not be easy, it may not be pretty, but I also know it will not all be heavy and dark.

“Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality. One learns so much just from living a lifetime. Share that knowledge with the people you come across, it can only help them in their journeys. Even more important, share your failures so that others will not repeat them.” Jordan Lejuwaan

Morning Spell

The sky lightens

Inky darkness passes

The sun not yet breaking the horizon

Grey mystic light, hovering

Magic folk still revelling in the dissipating shadows

Dancing in the dew, charting courses by the stars

They call to me

Have faith, you are moving closer to your heart

Your magic has not dimmed, only covered by the din of everyday

Come to dance, in the cool wet grass

Remember who you are

Who you were, before you gave it away

Call the pieces home, take back the self you shared to those who did not see

The weave of spells that you are

A chorus of birds to sing me home

Blessed be the Witches in the magic of the dawn.

Illuminate

I asked
Show me what to change
Show me what is missing
Show me what remains

I began to dig in the dirt- take the monuments apart
I took a moment to listen to my heart – the whispers buried in the rubble
I appreciated what appeared- if only for a moment.

I sighed
It will take patience
Nothing, for it is within me and in front of me
It may not be where I want it, but trust it will be when I need it most

Healing Without Apology

Oh Gods, the hurt, it’s dizzying ….. The song came on, it had been ages, yet once it started, there I was, the door kicked open. Back to where I could feel the magic that once existed, back to where pieces of my heart and soul had been sacrificed on the Timeless Altar of Everything.

Feeling so broken and pieced out, every ounce of courage I had at the time, to push it all away, the music, the verse, the intense joy within the circle that had been created, every bit of strength to slam that door shut. I could not hear the music with out feeling the blood drain away from me. The loss of magic, cruelly stolen. I can not look at the verses that had been written. To try to remember the joy, with out feeling the loss is a futile effort. Time does not heal wounds, it allows for scar tissue to grow thick, to dull the pain that will always be there.

The next song starts. For a brief time I had been seen, (had I?) only to be cast unwhole back into the shadows. To once again fight to repair myself, questioning the point of it. Watching the monsters rising from my blood and fragments of who I thought I was. Hot tears, burning my cheeks as I screamed to the Ether- demanding to understand why? Only echos from my monsters coming back in return, had my spirit had been broken for nothing more than sport?

For a long time, I couldn’t. Not the music, not the words, not the contentment of exploring the Divine magic. Sometimes I think I had met the Devil and fate was sealed when he looked me in the eye and called me Witch. Even now it steals my breath. So many unfinished words, unfinished spells, unfinished………

Another song begins. It feels as though I am late to this vision. The Tower breaking sent me running for cover, placing the old shell of who I was, firmly around me. Retreating, pretending to heal. It has only been the last few risings of Mother Moon and time at the Altar of Everything that I can now begin to see through the fog.

It was never about that. I see now the destruction was inevitable, if not that Devil, then another would have appeared. It was about unbecoming, to rise again. It was about breaking away from the chains that held me down. It is about casting the spells for myself alone. The words that tattoo my soul that need to make it to paper to speak my truth, mine alone.

The last song plays. Oh Gods the pain……the dizziness swirling around my head. Truths mixed with lies, spells and curses alike tied up in what was and what is to become. There will always be the unfinished, there will always be bittersweet sadness. This now will get laid on the Altar of Everything. The rubble of the Tower still smoking after all this time. Finally discarding the shell. This Witch may be scarred, still bloody, but my sight is getting clearer. The human heart will heal, the scars will thicken. I don’t need the Devil to tell me who I am. I don’t need the chorus to tell me who I am not. I am. Is all any of them need to know

The Faithful Witch, or why I don’t need to ‘find God’

Sitting in the soft glow of the Christmas lights on the Tree and those shining from my Altar. Drinking coffee and contemplating faith.

I document some of my mental and physical health struggles. I have a biting sarcastic sense of humour ( carved well from surviving trauma). I am an empath through and through. I am curious. I am kind. I have a temper. I take things personally that I probably shouldn’t. I believe in helping because it’s the right thing to do. I believe the body is only the house of who we are, I do not believe in judging on gender, race, orientation or colour. I have a strong sense of spirituality and faith. I am Pagan.

Working with chronic illness I encourage my clients to include a faith based practice. I tell them, that these practices and communities are so important to healing. It is another pillar needed for survival. I never tell them what it should look like. I tell them it should be what speaks to them, what elevates them to their higher good, where they find comfort and connection.

Do I think it solves everything? No. Do I believe that alone will heal? No. Do I believe it takes struggle away? No.

Being Pagan, for me, means I am not beholden to one God. I do not bow to my Deity, I do not hand over my ills, nor do I blame or credit them with everything that happens in my life. I believe we are all interconnected. We are the stuff made of stars, we are nature. I believe this interconnection ( magic) binds us to be responsible in our actions and their effects on the world around us. I believe that science and magic work hand in hand. I believe there are things unseen and unknown. I believe my ancestors hold wisdom that can guide me if I listen.

Do I believe this makes me better than you if our Gods do not share the same name? No. I believe all roads eventually lead back to the same and you put the face on it you are most comfortable with.

I do find offence if you’re God demands that you make others conform to your understanding. I am offended if your God leads you to believe you are morally superior because of what you believe. I am offended if your God punishes people for perceived ‘sins’ or character flaws.

I am not offended if you hold me in your prayers, if it is to protect and share love, for that I am deeply moved and honoured.

I am offended if you are praying for my redemption because I’m not like you.

I am offended if you are judging me on my writing, humour or very human flaws and struggles, because you believe these things mean I have yet to find god….. I am offended if your belief makes you think it is ok to tell me that this is what I need.

My faith has so far seen me through some very dark moments. My faith has helped me have compassion and purpose. My faith keeps me curious and in wonder. I have found Myself with in it.

As we move through this season, be joyful, be kind and be open. There are many of us celebrating many things, there are many of us struggling with many things, but I think we can all agree that we should celebrate together, work together and create something better than what we have. Together.

❤️🔮

Realizations of the soul

I closed my eyes to the sun. It’s early morning fire burning behind my lids. Do the Gods hear me?

I pray the heat ignites my determination. Keep moving forward, it’s the only place to go.

Pull the brambles from my cloak as I keep moving towards the light, away from this dark bog, fraught with prickles, poisonous thorns and things that bite from the shadows.

I call out, the echo answers.

Exhausted, my flesh longs to rest on the cool moss, allowing the bog to swallow me whole.

Slow through the mud, each step a 1000 pounds.

Will I find myself? Will I find the soul kin I believed were there? Was this all just a theatre for the trickster’s amusement?

When I was nameless, I could feel them, hear them.

I claimed my name, they faded violently from my grasp.

I open my eyes to the sun. Memories serve only to puncture.

The only message from the Gods is too keep moving, nameless once again.