I’m a writer and a healer with a lot of ideas. I’m mad and queer and still coming into myself. I’m a bouncing baby witch prepared to fly. a human person that feels only 45% that way most days. an agender alien here to take over the world. pure sagittarian flame with a 12th house stellium and a capricorn rising prepared to mirror your soul, catalyze your transformation(s), and soothe your inner child.
I engage critically with spirituality. This looks like reflecting on the ways our woo can reify or dismantle oppressive social structures. This looks like a hefty dose of skepticism when people try to make their spirituality scientific. In 4th grade my teacher wrote home about me: “Molly likes to read non-fiction and is constantly asking ‘Why?’” In this way, I’ve never grown up.
how I met myself
Five years ago, I was in a deep descent. I was in my sophomore year of college, shattered by my first break up, struggling to adjust to the enormity of my university, and overwhelmed by sudden realizations of childhood trauma. And–don’t laugh–dealing with the psychological fall out of a horrible experience smoking weed for the first time. I was depersonalized to the point of near delusion, suffering from panic attacks and flashbacks and existential dread.
Every day felt like a battle for my hold on reality. Every day felt like a battle for control.
Always lurking on the cusp of my awareness: You’re in a spiritual crisis.
Desperate to be Normal, to not be Crazy, I shoved the thought away. It got more persistent. I got more scared.
After a tumultuous (but ultimately “successful”) college experience, I moved to a town nearby my university and started working at another local college. I felt like I had finally made it. I was employed full-time, making good money, and settled into a comfortable 9-5 routine. I was no longer having panic attacks, my depersonalization lessened, and I was able to make time for actual self-care.
I was reading about astrology in my downtime. learned Reiki I at Sanctuary Healing Arts in Amherst, MA. I launched my first tarot website, Your High Priestess Tarot. However, these things would eventually fall by the wayside, eclipsed by work, or by my attempts at living a !~Healthy Lifestyle~!
You’re still miserable, you goon. Didn’t you hear me? Spiritual crisis. Wake up.
One year after being in my full-time job, trauma reared its ugly head once more. After one of many private breakdowns in the staff lounge, I made up my mind. It was time to do the work.
I did a quick search on Psychology Today & found my therapist. I knew it from the moment I saw her picture, and reading more about her practice confirmed my intuition. When we met, she listened intently and empathetically. A few sessions in, she told me something that shattered my previous self-understanding.
“Molly, there’s nothing wrong with you.”
It felt like a punch to the gut. Uh…is this gaslighting? Here? Now? Why?
“Of course you’re depressed. Of course you’re dissociated. With all you’ve experienced…you’ve been to hell and back. And on top of that, you’re extremely sensitive. I don’t mean that in a bad way; I mean that there are some people who are just naturally wired to be more sensitive emotionally and physically, and you’re one of them. You’re having a normal response to trauma. There is nothing wrong with you.”
I was awestruck. I was in tears. Suddenly, I realized I felt the most fundamentally heard and validated I had ever felt in my entire life.
Trust having been established, I told her I felt like I had been through a spiritual crisis. Like the depersonalization was more than just psychological. She nodded.
“I think you’re right. What do you think you’ve learned from it?”
This was how I met myself.
Through tears, through acceptance, through being seen. That was in October 2016. From there, my life was turned upside down. I began writing. I continued developing my spiritual practice. I learned how to release the fear that embracing my spirituality was a sign that I was “going off the deep end.” I learned how, actually, that was past abuse & historical trauma talking.
I reframed, I released, I reflected. I learned how to handle the enormity of my emotions. I learned how to sit with my grief, sadness, and pain, and accept that I will both ebb and flow. I admitted harsh truths to myself and worked through long-held fears. I rejected and got rid of what no longer served me–people, clothes, activities, my assigned-at-birth gender, and my 9-5 job in higher education.
I realized that therapy was responsible for 65% of my healing. The other 35%? Woo. Seeing a medium who told me that the worst was over, that my deceased friend was laughing and saying–You’re a witch!–that I was meant to pave my own way, that I was trying too hard to conform and it was sucking the life out of me. Learning Reiki, which heightened my intuition ability, and gave me the tools to deal with it. Exploring my astrology, which is all 11th & 12th house Sagittarius fire. Working with a chiropractor rooted in energetic healing, who helped me re-connect to my body. These were moments of profound change.
I’m still healing. I’m still learning. I’m still young. For all I know, rock bottom hasn’t been hit yet. But I feel like I’ve finally learned how to wade through my depths without fear of sinking. I know that if rock bottom comes, I’ll know how to climb out.
It is my hope that through my writing and intuitive work, I can help you learn to trust that you can wade through your depths, too.
how I met tarot
In my early childhood, I was raised primarily by my Granny. She’d take care of me while my parents worked, and on weekends I’d sleep over her house. One of her favorite activities was solitaire.
I wish I could tell you how mesmerizing it was to watch her shuffle her playing cards. The way cascading cardboard could cut through the air and send me into a meditative calm. It was magical.
One day, I took her cards, laid them out, and pretended to tell her future. She was amused, and explained to me that there were people who used cards to do just that. I was overcome with amazement. People can see the future?
As I grew up, I learned about tarot from my mother. She read cards, just for friends and family, but she was damn good at it. While she never formally trained me, I owe the foundation of my understanding of the cards to her. Watching her was education enough. She had the ability to make the cards move together. It was never just about one individual card, but the story they told. It was art.
As soon as I could, I bought my first deck. I was 15. I spent the first week obsessing over them, memorizing their meanings and giving friends reading after reading.
When I went to college, my “interesting fact” icebreaker was always I read tarot! My rally cry freshman year, I’m told, was I’m a witch, bitch! Throughout the years, I’d bring my cards to parties & set up shop (well, not shop, because it was always free) for multiple hours. Diving into people’s deepest fears and helping them make sense of the chaos in their lives–that’s my favorite party trick.
Nowadays, I don’t think I can reliably see the future, and I don’t use tarot for fortune-telling. But it still brings me delight to reflect on a wee version of myself, trying to explain how the 4 of diamonds meant my Granny would buy donuts at the grocery store and then find a kitten.
Here I am, a decade after buying my first deck. Still reading. Still evolving into my work. Still deepening my connection to my decks & the meanings of each card.
And still asking my mom to read for me when the going gets tough. Thanks mum!
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