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✨️🫙✨️Spells✨️🫙✨️

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👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩🧙‍♀️🌈💖Sapphic Saturday

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Medusa

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Mother of Witches, Goddess of All,

Look after our spell working,

Guide our hands and minds as we weave magic through the Liminal,

Hail Hekáte, Queen of Witches!

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Mother of Light and Dark,

Queen of Storms and Calm,

Goddess of Hearth and Travel,

Hekáte, You are the All,

You of many ways and names,

We worship and rejoice in You!

Hail Hekáte, Mother of our devotion!

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2025 Witches' Calendar

January 13 ● Full Moon in Cancer (Wolf Moon) January 29 ● New Moon in Aquarius February 2 ● Imbolc February 12 ● Full Moon in Leo (Snow Moon) February 27 ● New Moon in Pisces March 14 ● Full Moon in Virgo (Worm Moon) March 15-April 7 ● Mercury Retrograde March 20 ● Ostara March 29 ● New Moon in Aries April 12 ● Full Moon in Libra (Pink Moon) April 27 ● New Moon in Taurus May 1 ● Beltane May 12 ● Full Moon in Scorpio (Flower Moon) May 26 ● New Moon in Gemini June 11 ● Full Moon in Sagittarius (Strawberry Moon) June 20 ● Litha June 25 ● New Moon in Cancer July 10 ● Full Moon in Capricorn (Buck Moon) July 18-August 11 ● Mercury Retrograde July 24 ● New Moon in Leo August 1 ● Lammas August 9 ● Full Moon in Aquarius (Corn Moon) August 23 ● New Moon in Leo September 7 ● Full Moon in Pisces (Harvest Moon) September 21 ● New Moon in Virgo September 22 ● Mabon October 6 ● Full Moon in Aries (Hunter's Moon) October 21 ● New Moon in Libra October 31 ● Samhain November 5 ● Full Moon in Taurus (Beaver Moon) November 9-November 29 ● Mercury in Retrograde November 20 ● New Moon in Scorpio December 4 ● Full Moon in Gemini (Cold Moon) December 19 ● New Moon in Sagittarius December 21 ● Yule

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✨️🫙✨️Spells✨️🫙✨️

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I'm learning to be grateful for the things I have. I'm allowing myself to breathe, to be present.

For once in my life, I'm allowing myself to just be. I've come a long way, but I've still got a long way to go. I don't have to be anything I'm not or do anything I don't want to do. I'm free to be who I am.

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Does anyone else feel this way, or is it just me? Venting post.

(WARNING: might be triggering for some people. Discussion of depression and S*****dal thoughts, among other things.)

In the world I live in, it seems like there’s no escape. There’s no help or hope. There’s only misunderstanding, judgment and isolation. No matter how much these people insist otherwise, it feels as though I will never be loved. I will never be understood, or find my tribe. Do I give up hope, or keep pushing? I’m so tired. I wish that socializing would come freely for me. I’m so sick of being “other”, but that’s the only way to describe me. The outcast, the one with too many boxes checked. Too many thoughts and interests to be part of one group. That should be a good thing, right? Not really. On one hand, some people admire me, think I’m super smart. On the other hand, I do too much. I’m too all over the place, my head firmly cemented in the clouds. They lock me up because I’m not like everyone else. I wasn’t the goody-two-shoes, God-fearing, keep-in-line-and-be-quiet little girl I was supposed to be. I’m not even the good, charitable Christian woman who will marry a man, bear his children and bend to their every need. Instead, I’m the free-thinking, easily emotional, mentally fucked-up, genderfluid sapphic freakshow I am. I’m not even welcome in parts of the LGBTQ+ community, or the black community, or any community for that matter. But I think that’s everyone.

But why should I be ashamed of who I am? Why does everyone say I need help, but no one does? Why do they just foister me off to someone else, or smother me to the point that I can’t even tell who I am until I leave them?

It does nothing to explain my struggles to someone else because I can’t seem to do it right. I’m either wound up in self-pity or self-loathing. There’s nothing in between. My brain doesn’t let me feel the pain, the embarrassment or any other negative feeling when it’s not happening in that moment. Only in the dark hours of the night am I allowed to feel those things. They come at me like huge waves of water rushing over a tiny defenseless lifeboat on the sea. And no matter how hard I want to, no matter how much I need to, I can’t sob, I can’t scream, I can’t move. I’m paralyzed in those moments of pain and agony.

Why do I need to be fixed? Why do I have to go through therapy for something I can’t control, much less change? Why can’t I just be?

I don’t think I’ve ever truly sobbed, even when someone dear to me dies, or I’ve been so frustrated with everything that I wanted to join them. I’ve come so close to it though. I’ve hurt myself, I’ve wanted to die, I’ve ridden the waves of pain and euphoria, constantly changing from day to day, moment to moment. Never have I truly, gut-wrenchingly sobbed before. I’ve wanted to sob, at first, to prove that my feelings were valid enough to take heed of. So, my family would stop blaming me for the pain and embarrassment I’ve caused them in the past, so my teachers would help me when I couldn’t help myself. So anyone would take me seriously. Now, I want to sob because it may let me rest for once. To get all of the anger, the depression, the anxiety, the numbness, all of it out of me. Just to let me breathe. The silent tears do nothing for me anymore, because the feelings are stronger than them. Numbness kills those tears just like they were ants and it was a giant’s foot. Effortlessly. I want, no. I need something strong enough to kill those feelings, so I can finally rest easy. So I can get up every morning and move forward. What an amazing feeling it would be, to get up every morning, do everything that I needed to do, without effort or fail. Would I be loved more, be accepted more if I could do this? I’m not sure, but I feel that it may make my life a little bit easier if not a lot.

You, reader, may look through this and say, “This person definitely needs therapy.” However, you don’t know that I’ve been in therapy for 13 years at this point. I’ve been through psychiatric wards to residential facilities, and no one seems to be able to fix me. No one has cracked the code to my crazy brain yet, not fully. I’m exhausted from the necessity of explaining myself, of telling my therapists and the staff at psych wards and residential facilities how I feel. I don’t want to be patronized. I don’t want to be less than, or humiliated, or to be considered incapable of being an adult, because I’m not. I just want to be able to be considered a functioning individual worthy of other people’s time. Not just some patient of a therapist or mental hospital, or someone with mental illnesses. It hurts me when people say that it makes sense that I’m autistic, I have bipolar, or anxiety or ADHD or any other illness that I’ve been formally and informally diagnosed with, because they put me in a box and automatically shove me in with people who can’t function, who need supervision 25/8 just to make sure they don’t hurt themselves. I’m sick of being the only one in a room who understands what it’s like to be someone like me. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of having too many questions and not enough answers.

 Why is it so hard for me to explain things to my mom? Why is it so hard for her to understand? Why is it so hard for anyone to understand? Why do I have to be around people constantly, telling them all of my trauma and struggles just for them to label me as mentally ill and, by extention, untrustworthy of opinion, or too mentally unstable to be taken seriously?

On the flip side, why am I expected to be an outgoing, completely perfect carbon cutout of a “model citizen”? Why do I have to be just like the curated images on social media? Why can’t I make mistakes? Why can’t I be imperfect, with differing or ambiguous opinions? Why do I have to know everything about other people’s struggles and hardships when no one shares them with me? Just because I didn’t know about Stonewall for the first 16 or 17 years of my life, or about certain microaggressions (I’d been dealing with microaggressions my whole life, by the way) or the fact that id been raised by Republicans who lived and breathed Fox News and slightly distasteful humor doesn’t make me a shitty person who deserves to die a horrible death. 

Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way. I just want to know if anyone else knows what this feels like, or can at least understand where I’m coming from. Sorry for the vent, but I'm really needing someone else who's not a therapist to tell me I'm valid in this.

EDIT: I'm also sick of people telling me to "suck it up" and move on, too. Tell me how, then. Tell me how to suck up my literal shitshow of a brain and be a perfect human being when I have so much shit in my brain. Sorry, this seems like it's going on too long, but that should be it in terms of ranting for now.

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We are the night 🌙 ✨️

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I like to add herbs to my breakfasts, too 🍳🧇🥓