There are some among us who are incredibly good at hiding behind masks that they have meticulously put together for the soul purpose of showing the world they are okay. Not broken they whisper quietly as they don their mask and walk out the door determined to share a version of themselves that is acceptable to society. That doesn’t make other people uncomfortable. That doesn’t draw unwanted attention to themselves or have people thinking they are crazy. I am one of those people. Hiding behind smiles that do not quite reach my eyes and polite conversations that take far to much out of me. Hiding in plain sight, like so many other people that I know. When you have high functioning PTSD, depression or anxiety you get very good at hiding behind mask’s. Faking it till you make it. Pretending that you are okay, that you are not breaking inside. My mask is made of iron, the mask of a warrior, with strands of crystal’s and a touch of glitter dusted gently over, giving the appearance of strength with a touch of whimsy and sparkle. It has been carefully and thoroughly made so that I may hide away from the curious eyes of the world. The sympathizers, drama seekers and those who look with judgment.  I don it with hopes of making it through the days without breaking. With hopes of not drawing attention to the fear and anxieties I feel inside. With hopes that on those days the glue that binds is strong enough to hold the broken pieces together. A very real fear in my mind that someone might see one of the pieces fall, showing a glimpse of the broken that hides behind the mask. Take a breath, put it on. Don’t let it slip, hope and pray they can’t see the real you today.

To the world I am seen as a strong capable woman tackling whatever may come her way. Balancing all of the spinning plates with what seems like ease to those looking in from the outside. Laughing and joking along the way and making the most of the difficulties that I face. Most days now I feel capable of taking on whatever may come. Most day’s those smiles are genuine and the laughs are full belly laughs. I have developed strategies to ease my anxieties and calm my nerves. I have built a tool box full of different methods that I can pick and choose from when those shadows start to creep in around the edges. I have gotten very good at knowing those triggers, at saying no when I would have previously said yes and at being able to recognize and respect that my mind and body need some love and caring. Most of the time now I can tell when I am starting to spiral and need to take a break from the ride. Sit out for a little bit indulging in comfort foods, cheesy romance movies and quiet. Taking the time I need to heal and find my balance again. It wasn’t always that way though, there were days not very long ago where I couldn’t see how I was going to make it through. Days I couldn’t see how I was going to be able to stop myself from breaking into a million tiny pieces. Those days are getting further and further apart but I still find myself struggling. In the art of honesty I don’t know that these day’s will ever go away. The pain and trauma that I have experienced and that I still live through has left scars so deep within my soul and on my mind that even the smallest of things can throw those spinning plates off balance.

Some days come in and knock the wind out of me leaving me struggling to breath, those days my chest hurts and my mind screams irrational thoughts at me, I know I’m slipping down that hole to wonderland but I can’t for the life of me stop myself from chasing that white rabbit. My mind hitting fight mode before the other side of my brain can kick in and form rational thought. Once that fight mode is triggered it turns into a war that I fight against myself. That I fight with the thoughts that are running rampant through my mind. Skeletons I can’t shove neatly back into the closet. But my life doesn’t slow down, so I pick up my pretty little mask and slip it quietly on, ignoring those voices and the fear that grips me and tries to pull me down. I go through the motions, not feeling, and unaware of how I make it through to bed time. Surrounded by a fog that keeps me from connecting to the world around me. Those are the days I fight a little bit harder. I struggle through the pain and fear and regress to my long time friend the coping mechanism of not feeling, of shutting down my emotions so that I can deal and not break. Most of these days end with nights filled with insomnia, not able to shut my mind off, not able to keep the monsters at bay long enough to close my eyes and sleep, leaving me feeling exhausted the next day and irritable, short tempered and yet ready to get up and fight again if I need to. This is the struggle that happens when you are high functioning. When the world sees you as this great warrior they miss the days that you barely make it through. They miss the struggles that it takes just to get up and don that mask. People don’t realize just how often some of us can fight those demons in our minds. Even those closest to me don’t realize how hard I still struggle. How easily and quickly I can go from being fine to being “fine” to the outside world but total chaos inside.

Though I am healing, I am still living it day by day. Some days those day to day’s turn into minute by minute. I get up every day ready to take on what may come, with the knowledge now that I am stronger then I could have ever imagined. That I am not alone like I once thought I was, that I have an incredible tribe of people that are there when the days get dark. Knowing that my scars are not something to be ashamed of; I have earned every one of them, bled from them and am healing each one. I am learning to put those pieces back together and realize that there will still be days when I will bleed from the sting of a sharp edge.

Healing this wildflower one day at a time. 

Jessy Kewley

When you hear the word witch usually one or two things come to mind. A villainous woman dressed all in black, wearing a pointy hat with a high-pitched cackle, shouting I’ll get you my pretty or hunting down innocent children. You know the one’s I’m talking about, The Wicked Witch of the West, The Sisters from Hocus Pocus, the witch that lived in the gingerbread house and the other thing most people think of can be summed up in two word’s “Harry Potter”

I do not fall into these categories, though I do know that there are a few people who definitely think of me as an evil witch.  I can’t fly and am horrible at Quidditch and pretty much every other sport on the planet, but was just told I would probably make a good seeker.  I don’t cackle it’s more of a loud belly laugh with a well placed snort thrown in the mix because I’m cool like that and all the best belly laughs have a snort. My black wardrobe choices fall more in line with my well-loved yoga pants and some pretty tops with lace that I bust out for day’s I have to change out of my comfy yoga pants.

I do not have flying monkey’s though I feel they could be very useful can you imagine the faces if I walked into a meeting with my own flying monkey’s, oh yes very useful indeed. I do hunt down children though I assure you they are my own wild and crazy offspring and are full of as much sass and sarcasm as their mamma and tend to bring out the banshee in me rather than the witch. WHY must I lose my mind before anyone listens to me?

But in all seriousness the term witch is really very misunderstood and people tend to have very drastic ideas on what they feel a witch is. When people find out that I am a witch they respond in one of two ways, they are either horrified and let me know I’m going to hell, (don’t worry my friends I have a beautiful hand basket with lot’s of room for company) or they are curious. The curious are my people. They are open to understanding and not worried that I may accidentally summon a demon during our coffee date. So to help put some of that curiosity to rest let me tell you what being a witch means for me and why I embrace my witchy side.

To me a witch is a person that has embraced their inner power and is open to the idea of connecting with the elements and the universe around them. A person that see’s and understands that sometimes in life there are things that can only be explained by magick. They are not afraid to get off of the paved path and get lost on a less travelled one that meanders through the woods. Not afraid of standing alone but also knowing that a sense of community is incredibly important. They are the healers,misfits, rebels, the wild ones, the people who think outside of the box. Throughout history they have gone by many many different names, crones, enchantress, sorceress, hag, shamans, magician, siren, medicine woman just to name a few. No matter what name they go by they have all had the same core values a connection with the universe and elements around them, a knowledge that our connection here on Earth runs much deeper than most would like to think and the ability to tune in and listen to their intuition and believe in things that can not always be explained.

I am an eclectic witch, I pull a little bit from everything, finding and using what fits my soul best. I am as whimsical with my witchy side as I am with the rest of my life. I am the kind of witch that keeps her favourite tarot deck in an old cigar box because I love the smell, my witchy books sit side by side on my book shelf with The Art of War and Calvin and Hobbes.

I curse my spirit guides on the regular and they in turn throw rocks at me. Seriously my spirit guides are not at all subtle, granny good witch was a feisty Irish woman and my great-grandfather was a real prankster. Well played guys, well-played. I put protection spells on every package that I mail out and have been known to send rocks through the mail and drop them in peoples bags for those that need a little extra protection. Any one that has eaten a Sunday dinner at my house has had love and protection cast into the meal. The woods has always called to me and I go to nature when my soul needs healing. Garden whimsy and botanicals are ingrained in me and my heart is happy when I’m lost in amongst the wildflowers, a love that has been passed down through generations of wild women. I am a healer by nature, and tend to give off a very warm and comforting energy. I am able to see that which others can not and travel between times with the ease it takes for me to flip cards. I love reading tea leaves and drinking whiskey out of tea cups. I have danced naked in the woods and skinny dipped under the light of the moon, but I’m busy so it’s usually me dropping my crystals and tarots on the windowsill, telling the moon to do it’s thing while wearing comfy jammies eating chocolate and pretending to stay awake past ten because that’s how us tired witches roll.  I sprinkle cinnamon in my coffee for protection, love and strength and take note of all of the little synchronicities the universe gives.  As I am growing older I am learning to truly love and embrace the woman that I am with all of her flaws and scars, something that is not always easy for me.  I choose to look for the good but know that setting boundaries is important.  A whole lot of peace and light with a little go f**k yourself attitude thrown in to protect my soul.  

For me though connecting with my spiritual, witchy side has allowed me to heal, it makes me slow down to appreciate the little things in life.  Works on my mindfulness and gives me something to focus on when the world around me goes dark and gets thrown into chaos. It  gives me subtle and not so subtle signs that I am not alone, reminding me that I am a part of something much bigger than my tiny sliver of the world and that there are always things to be grateful for in life, even during those dark times.  It calms me and makes my soul sing all at the same time. I am responsible for the energy that I allow into my life and am free to choose the path that best suits me while knowing that I am surrounded by magick that is much older and wiser then myself. The universe has always had my back and though I may not always understand the journey I am learning to let go and trust. I am a messy haired, crystal wearing, tea drinking, wild whimsical witchy woman with the soul of a gypsy and vocabulary of a sailor, embracing life and the magick that is all around while healing this wildflowers soul.

Jessy Kewley