The Beginning

Nearly a year ago my mother passed away. It was so hard for me, I had no idea how I was going to make it.  When tragedy happens, most people turn to religion. I had so many people praying for me and my family. So many people telling me that “it would be okay, your mom’s with God now”. So many people quoting bible verses and trying to show me the light. That made it harder. I was brought up without religion. Nay, I was brought up against religion. God was the butt of all our jokes, going to church was something we only did with Nana…maybe. I once got grounded for going to my friend’s youth group. It wasn’t just Christianity though. My sister became interested in Buddhism in high school. She got books and magazines and pamphlets and had to hide them in her room like weird fetish porn. It was just the way we lived. No religion, no spirituality, no faith. I never thought I needed it.

When my mom died I was lost. The worst part was that I couldn’t comprehend what happened to her. I’ve always felt that there was more to death than just disappearing into nothingness but what? I was raised not to believe in Heaven and, in all honesty, I don’t think Christianity is ever a religion I could get behind. So where was my mom? Was she just floating around in the atmosphere somewhere? Was she stuck in an eternal dream state? Would I ever see her again?

So like any 22-year-old in 2014 I took to the internet. There was something in me that said I needed religion. I needed faith. I needed to have something to believe in bigger than myself. I searched and searched and searched. I looked at more traditional religions like Christianity, Islam, Judaism. None of these fit. I couldn’t get on board with the idea of having no control in my life. I couldn’t agree with only behaving kindly and respectfully so I could keep myself out of Hell. And to be honest, I couldn’t pray to a male. I was frustrated. I started to doubt myself. Maybe I was just grieving. Maybe religion really was a joke. Maybe I just had to deal with my pain myself.

Two months after my mom died I married the love of my life. My wedding was everything I could have wished it to be. It was outside with flowers and weeds and natural light and I felt so connected with everything around me. The only thing that was missing, besides my mom, was some sort of spirituality. I don’t believe in making vows before God. I don’t believe in being forced to stay married just because divorce is against God’s word. But I do believe that marriage, as well as other major life chances (death, birth, etc.), is bigger than yourself. There is something within these changes that transcends yourself, something that reaches out to grasp onto some form of higher power. I didn’t have that. My marriage is full and satisfying and my wedding was the happiest day of my life, but there was still something inside me that was missing.

Six months into my search I moved away from traditional religions. None of them were fitting. Nothing felt right. I was beginning to feel that I would never find something to believe in. I had so much spirituality inside of me and I needed somewhere to focus my energy. I needed help grieving, meditating, accepting. I stopped looking for something to believe in and looked for something that fit with the beliefs I had already.

I remembered Wicca from my middle school days. My friends and I used to get out my dad’s old Ouija board and play light as a feather. For a month in the seventh grade I wore broomstick skirts and walked around calling myself a witch. I did it because all my friends were doing it. I didn’t even try to find out what Wicca was about. I just wanted to fit in. I didn’t know it then but it was Wicca that truly did help me fit it.

The first thing I ever learned about Wicca, I read from Wikipedia. It was about covens, and branches, and spells and rituals. It was overwhelming. But there were things that caught my eye. Being connected with nature, giving thanks to the Earth, balancing your karma. There was nothing about sinning or being punished or burning in Hell for all eternity. It was about positive energy and light and cyclical life and balancing your good and evil and connecting with the world around you. I sat on my couch and cried. I furiously searched the rest of the internet. I found blogs and forums and community pages. I read stories from other people that sounded eerily similar to mine. I downloaded 5 or 6 ebooks that I read all in one night. Everything fit.

I sat on the couch wrapped in my mother’s blanket, clutching my childhood stuffed animal. I had this amazing sense of relief. Finally, I found a way to connect with something bigger than myself, to express my spirituality, to grieve peacefully. It felt like a reawakening. Everything I ever believed in my life finally had a name. I felt like I found a place to call home.

The last six months have been amazing. I’ve connected with a local store where I purchase all of my supplies. I’ve learned what to look for at used bookstores. I’ve embraced my spirituality and share my feelings with anyone who will listen. I’m learning more and more every day. I feel lighter, happier, stronger. I let the Goddess be my guide and I wake up every morning thankful to her. I’m still grieving, I’m still sad, I still feel hatred and anger and rage. But I know now that nothing’s wrong with me. That rage and envy and greed aren’t sins. I know now that my feelings don’t need to be justified. I don’t need to protect myself from going to Hell. I behave respectfully, peacefully, justly. And those are the things I do for myself. Every day I feel closer to the Goddess and, in turn, I feel closer to myself.

I want to share my journey with everyone. And I hope you will all follow along with me.