Feelings for a Monday.

The thing with magic(k)/witchcraft.

There’s always plenty to say when it comes to this subject. There’s always plenty of people who have an opinion, one way or another. I don’t care much about the opinions of others when it comes to my practice. I wrote last week about how I stumbled upon my own path and how I had to keep things on the down low. Well, I didn’t mention how many different paths I’d looked at before I got to where I am today.

Thirty seven years I have practiced. Well, knowingly anyway. I always class my practice as starting at the age of fourteen because what I was experiencing before that age was not anything I had a name for. I pay no heed to those people who wish to entangle themselves in the so called witch wars that were a thing of forums circa 2004 upwards. It was all bullshit then and I haven’t changed my opinion. But if you happen to say you are a solitary that taught themselves their own craft that they practice, well, there are those who like to flame you, trying to call you out for whatever claptrap they’ve got beef with you about.

Yes indeed, the witchy community has its fair share of liars, cheats, bullies and scammers. It has its fair share of people who claim their way is the right way and anything else is wrong. It has its fair share of people who will call you names just for daring to spell magick like I just have. Frankly I like spelling it that way because it bristles some people the wrong way. My take is this: it’s a word and maybe some witches claim the spelling with a k is authentic because xyz says so, but I just like it and spell it that way. There is nothing elaborate about that, it’s just my preference.

There are some who will say that what you claim to be true for you is untrue, but how do they know? If they’ve never met you and you’re in a group on Facebook and you’re talking about your own personal practice. How do they know what you’re saying is true or untrue? Well, the thing is they don’t know, they just claim they do. I used to give myself the label of Eclectic witch. I felt it suited my path at the time. For the past few years I’ve just said my practice. There’s no real definitive name for what I do, I just do it. Yes, it’s eclectic, but it’s just my own personal practice. I now just don’t feel like I need a name for what I do.

This is what I’ve found out about myself since getting well and reaching cronehood, I write my own rules and focus on me. I don’t spend a lot of time on social media anymore, I’ve just got too much to do. Besides, I now have quiet mode scheduled for my Facebook every day and have found I actually sleep better.

It doesn’t matter what your own practice is labelled, or not, what matters is being true to yourself. You don’t need to follow any particular path in order to be true to yourself, I think it’s something that should be taught in schools, but that’s a story for another day. There’s also nothing wrong with individuals who join groups and covens, their choice. I just find the in-fighting tedious. Just go do your own thing and leave others to do their own thing. Remember, your opinion is just that, an opinion, unless an individual is following a Wiccan path – or another organised form of witchcraft- then there are no real rules that say you have to do things a certain way. So your way is just as valid as my way, and so on and so forth.

Be yourself, always.

Sometimes you have to remember.

I wrote this post 5 years ago. I was just days out of a really bad PTSD attack and felt like I was over the worst. So I opened that door inside of my mind and felt into it. Just for a short while.

Tomorrow marks the day that my life changed. I had barely lived. Everything was mine for the taking. I was so self assured. I knew where I was going and nobody was going to stop me.

Only they did.

A vile creature tore from me what should’ve been mine to give. Denied me peace for a very long time. Tormented my dreams, turned them into horrific nightmares. Sent me spiralling so far out of control until I didn’t even recognise myself anymore.

It took work with a child psychiatrist, many years of therapy. Lots of breakdowns, hovering over giving up, giving in. So many mistakes….but so much learning, understanding, coming to know what my strengths and weaknesses are.

People ask the question, “if you could change your past, would you?” You’re damn right I would…….it’s not simply a case of me being a different person had that event not happened. It took so much from me. So much potential. So much adventure. So much fun. So much trust. It tore me apart in so many ways, physically, emotionally, so much pain and suffering. You can’t even fathom unless you’ve been there.

In therapy there’s so much talk of making peace with what happened. But it’s just not that easy. The word victim is overused and it’s easy to understand why, but that word swallows you whole and it’s only when you let it go and embrace the survivor you are that you are able to heal old, festering wounds.

The day has arrived, the one that has taunted me from the shadows for the past month. I’ve held my shit together pretty darn well I think. One wobble, that’s all I’ve had, and I have no idea what triggered it either, but it’s fine, I’m fine, it didn’t last long. I’ve thought a lot about then and now. I’ve thought a lot about why there’s even a significance this year, why I’m being so affected by it all. 30 years. I was going to say 30 years of being your victim, but I’m no longer your victim, if I’m honest I haven’t been for a very long time. You may have took something from me then, but I’ve got so much more back, I am so much more than your cowardly act could ever have imagined; taking my innocence, leaving me broken and bleeding, torn apart inside, almost dead inside. What you didn’t know was the mighty fucking warrior I had been, even then, even as a 16 year old girl with her whole life in front of her. You didn’t snuff me out. Ripping my underwear off me and forcing yourself inside of me, threatening to kill me and holding me at knifepoint to make sure you could carry out your sick attack on my innocent body. Laughing at me and spitting on me, calling me a whore, you didn’t snuff me out. When you jeered at me in the identity parade, taunting me, laughing at my emotional breakdown – even your lawyer was disgusted at you, his sympathy all for me. You didn’t expect me to remember, you thought I hadn’t seen your face, how could I ever forget such an ugly, vile soul? YOU DIDN’T SNUFF ME OUT!!! It may have taken me a little while, but I brought justice down on your vileness. I may have veered off my path, sunk into the depths of despair more times than I wanted to, but you didn’t snuff me out. I clawed my way back out of the hell you forced me into. I clawed my way back out of the depths of despair. I was battered and bruised on the inside, broken and empty, but you didn’t snuff me out. You attacked me because I walked home alone, but you didn’t snuff me out. You attacked me because I wore a short skirt, but you didn’t snuff me out. You attacked me because you wanted to feel power over women, BUT YOU DIDN’T SNUFF ME OUT!!!! You threatened me with a knife, held it against my throat, the steel blade pushing up against my windpipe, I thought you would surely puncture my skin, BUT YOU DIDN’T SNUFF ME OUT!!!!!!! There are things you did and said that only my husband, mother and the police know, your wickedness will not be repeated, why would I give it a voice? I rose from the spark that you tried to snuff out, I became whole again, unafraid. I wear the emotional scars from your attack, they remind me daily how truly wicked some people are. They remind me just how far I’ve come since August 23rd 1987. I embraced my female self, because you didn’t snuff it out, you tried, but you didn’t succeed. I AM HERE!!! I AM ALIVE!!! I AM NOT YOUR VICTIM!!! YOU DO NOT GET THAT KIND OF POWER OVER ME!!! 30 years ago you sought to destroy my life. 30 years on I am still here, alive, fighting, defying your disgusting act and being me. I AM A FEMALE WARRIOR! YOU DID NOT SNUFF ME OUT!!!

If you have been affected by rape or sexual assault you can contact the following for advice and support:








I am also available for anyone who would like to get in touch for a chat, support, advice, etc. You can contact me at suepk@workmail.com


I love hearing how people came into their witch ways. Everyone has a different story to tell, for some it is just a way of life, others stumbled upon it. I fall into the latter category, although my belief was there before I even knew what I was experiencing.

As a small child I knew things before they happened. I saw ghosts and felt things without understanding what the energy was I could feel.

My family went to church right up until I was around 11 or 12. I hated it. I just knew it wasn’t for me despite my parents having me attend Sunday school every week and having me confirmed. I’ve got to say, at the age of 51 I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve actually taken holy communion.

I don’t mind what other people believe in, whatever a person’s faith is has nothing to do with me. Each to their own. I respect other faiths, I respect those who follow their chosen path.

When I was 7 I was taken to the cinema to see Star Wars. I immediately fell in love with The Force and knew that was my thing. Ok, I know, they’re just movies, but energy is all around us and so is the force.

This was my awakening.

Over the next 7-10 years my interest grew and I started to understand what it was I was so taken with. It was this belief in energy that moved me forward, through extremely difficult stages of my life, giving me the strength to carry on when the darkness threatened to engulf me.

I still fondly tell the story of when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I answered “a Jedi knight”. To me, this was the ultimate goal, nothing else mattered.

My story isn’t that dissimilar to those who learn about the ways of magick and witchcraft from a young age. The teachings follow the same path and both require discipline to understand how this energy works.

I had no teacher, other than myself. I discovered books in my mid teens and spent the next few years searching for where I felt I belonged. It was a good few years before I realised I belonged exactly where I was.

Yesterday I watched my favourite 3 Star Wars movies – the original 3 – and remembered how they set me on my witchy path. The Force lies at the centre of all of the movies, not just the original 3, just as energy is at the centre of all life.

It doesn’t matter what you believe in, the most important thing is to believe in yourself. Many witchworkings tell the learner to accumulate a lot of paraphernalia and use it when casting spells/workings. I never did get around to buying the stuff. When my children were small I had to keep everything on the down low. In part because my husband didn’t want his family to know what I believed in. This wasn’t really an issue for me, but I respected his need for privacy.

If you believe in yourself you will find the need for tools and other items is not necessary. Your mind is your greatest asset and is so much more powerful than you think.

Believe in yourself.

A sign of growth.

Yes to this a million times and more. Mistakes, bad choices, actions that were not favourable and perhaps caused upset, all of that and more. Is it really worth holding onto the negative bullshit that’s accumulated?

I know, I get it, I’ve been that person myself, feeling anger towards someone for actions in their past. Holding on to the “grudge”. But it’s so exhausting. It’s so unhealthy. It doesn’t allow you to grow.

Letting it go and allowing yourself to move forward, past their actions, deeds, words, etc. Even if you don’t speak to this person again, it feels so much healthier to let go of the version you hold of them. It doesn’t even need to be about that person, it works just as well for you. Allowing you to be free of the negative energies from your past with this person.

Just let it all go and move forward for YOU.

Truth be known….

……I saw a meme the other day that said something like “just because you lost me as a friend doesn’t mean you gained me as an enemy. I’m bigger than that. I still wanna see you eat, just not at my table.”

That sat with me for a while. Made me question whether I harbour any animosity towards people who I’m no longer friends with.

Yeah, there are one or two, but what’s gone is gone. They’re women, they have their wants and needs just the same as me. I wish them no ill will. I hope they’re doing great. I’m happy for whatever life blessings they’re basking in now.

I haven’t got the time to be wishing them harm, or doing anything to hurt them. We’re maybe not friends anymore, but I hope they’re happy. I’m all about women supporting other women. That’s what I’m interested in, not drawing up enemy lines and firing negative shit their way.