Witchery Healing ~ One Day at a Time

     I am writing this from a place of complete, unfiltered chaos. My emotions are everywhere today. I have cycled from deeply depressed to furious, back to happy, and straight back into the depression. If you have ever felt like your own mind and nervous system are playing a cruel game of ping-pong, you know exactly how exhausting this is. The truth is out: things have officially escalated to evictions. Right now, my wife and I are stuck in that suffocating, terrifying space between a rock and a hard place. The paperwork has just been sent out, and we are trapped in the absolute torture of limbo—waiting for a timeline, waiting for answers, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When life falls apart like this, everyone tells you to look for the next step, to pivot, to find the silver lining. For us, the alternative is moving back into our motor home full-time. But I am going to be entirely honest: I don't want to go back to the home on wheels. The moment I step inside it la...

     We have officially moved into our "cottage on wheels." But if I am being completely honest? For the first two days I was there, it wasn't giving "noble sanctuary" at all. It was giving Hell on Wheels. I was already sick, and the stagnant summer heat wasn't making it any better. Our AC isn't working. Our fridge isn't working. I couldn't give the animals cold water, and I couldn't even get a cold drink for myself—which, with my POTS, quickly spiraled from miserable to dangerous. I was constantly, fiercely worried about the dogs and Yennifer. Nothing was going to plan, and things were turning into a life-or-death situation far too quickly. After a long, honest conversation, my wife and I made a vital decision. Since we still have our apartment until next Friday, I would bring the animals and stay here. The moment she said I could come back, the wave of relief was staggering. This apartment has air conditioning. It has a working fridge. It h...

Yesterday, I had a little-kid day. I woke up feeling my inner child screaming for something safe. She was terrified, caught in the heavy, echoing memories of the past that had resurfaced over the last two weeks. In that moment, I knew it was time for adult me to step up and finally be the safe harbor she never had. I didn't try to force productivity. Instead, I turned on  The Magic School Bus  and let it play all day in the background while I curled up and played games on my phone. As the familiar, nostalgic sounds filled the room, I could physically feel my inner child begin to relax, let her guard down, and simply enjoy the day. Our kitchen was running a bit low on food, but as I looked around, I managed to piece together the absolute perfect snack for her: crisp apples and creamy peanut butter. I had completely forgotten how much I used to love that combination. Even though the adult version of me was still struggling a bit with the lingering weight of the week, little Ashl...

     It started with a single, stray thought. Just one thought that managed to slip past my defenses and breach the surface. It was a memory of the greatest betrayal my mother ever handed me. I have touched on the edges of this before, but recently, the specific, detailed abuse I endured from my father came rushing back into sharp focus. The weight of remembering that in such vivid detail was exhausting enough on its own. But what truly broke something inside me was the realization of how she failed me. She never once got me the help I needed. She didn't remove me from that hell, or place me in a safe environment where I could actually just be a child. Instead, I was left to survive an environment that damages parts of you. That twists the very wiring of your brain. When she saw the signs, when she asked me how I knew things a child of that age should never know, she didn't get me help. She didn't believe me. Years later, after I took it upon myself to get into therapy as...