With the Power of The Morrigan – Curses and Disassociation

As I’ve sat with these returning memories and uncovering more injustices my younger selves experienced, the more anger I’ve felt, the more pain and soul anguish that has run through my body. Feeling my younger selves’ emotions was overwhelming. Especially as I felt those things for the first time. I never had the choice to feel anything other than fear, pain, and bursts of anger when I was child. It wasn’t safe enough to feel anything other than that.

A week ago, I sat with the pain of feeling so small, and yet, I wasn’t small enough. He, the shadow man, could still get me. That feeling of smallness was so overwhelming, my words stopped working, my mind was shutting down. I came face to face with that desire to just end it all and have some peace. My heart was aching, my lungs felt like they were collapsing, and I couldn’t stop the tears as they ran down my face. I was disassociating as I tried to figure out which younger or current self’s emotions were overwhelming me in that moment.

It was so layered and discordant, I felt so lost and unsure of who I actually am. I knew part of it was I had finally given myself space, my younger selves’ the safe space, to feel and exist. I was validating and affirming my very whole existence. And it hurt. It was hard. It was heartbreaking.

In a brief moment of reprieve from the chaos in my mind, I began to put pieces together of how I was going to fight for myself, and give myself further protection and validation of my story. I had had an idea that slowly started about a week and a half ago. There had to be a way to release all of the guilt, shame, pain, and harm my parents had done and given to me. I wasn’t looking for an end-all, cure-all, but something to officially “return to sender.” A dear friend offered assistance as I am not well versed in spells yet.

As I worked with them to make sure I had all the details I needed, I found out that things were already “returning to sender” in my abusers’ lives.

Now, let’s just be clear, so there is no confusion here. I am not Wiccan, I just prescribe to a Rede or standard of what spells I can or can’t do. What I prepared to do, and then completed this past Friday on the 13th as the full moon came in, was a curse. It was detailed in releasing and returning every bit of harm my abusers/parents did to me or put on me through years of trauma and abuse. It was physically cursing them with everything they’ve done to me. It was giving Karma an exact road map of what to return to them.

I have never been a place before where I was willing to stand up and fight for and defend my younger selves. My parents have continued to control me even though I live 2000 miles away. And it’s time for that to end. So my friend gave me the groundwork, and I set to work writing down the actual spell.

I did feel a tad guilty that what I would be doing would most likely cause harm to my parents/abusers. But I realized something very important. This is what a parent does for a child who has been hurt. They defend and use grown up words to get justice for their child. They use their words to protect and set up boundaries. I never had that. The ones who were supposed to protect me, to defend me. Casting this curse is how I am protecting and defending my younger selves and returning every bit of harm caused to us by our abusers. This will bring them harm, but harm in terms of what they have done to me.

A dear friend came in to town and was able to be there on Friday evening as I cast the curse.

By the power of The Morrigan,
Macha, Badb, and Anu, 
I curse thee, ___________________________ and ___________________________, that pain and misery will come to pass upon you. 
May the pain of knowing you’re not wanted break your minds. 
May your bodies feel forever uneasy and anxious
May your belongings break and shatter
May material work be forever out of your grasp
May you be scorned and lied about
May your secrets be revealed 
May your nights be filled with never ending terrors
May you always feel unsafe in the light of day. 
May your remaining children call you cursed. 
May your friends turn their backs on you
May your deepest fears and nightmares come true
May the knowledge of what you have done haunt you day and night. 
May the guilt eat you alive
May the shame burn your body. 
May you always know it is your fault. 
I return every ounce of harm you have caused to me, 
Body, mind, spirit, and heart. 
I return every iota of pain you have caused to me, 
Body, mind, spirit, and heart. 
I return every physical ache, pain, spasm that you have caused to me, 
Body, mind, spirit, and heart. 
I return every overwhelming moment of shame of being touched without consent, 
With the power of The Morrigan, 
May all this come to pass, 
May you be damned forever and always. 


I will not be sharing the details of all of the prep work I did for this spell work, or the various materials I used. This is the written/spoken part of the spell, but it is only words outside of the actual spell work.

The very second I placed my pen to paper, a banshee’s cry rang loud outside of my open back door. I felt the beginnings of the death throes of what I have carried for so long. As I waited for the candle to burn down at the end of the spell, another malicious spirit showed up outside one of my windows, determined to break in and stop me. I am grateful for how strong my protection boundaries are, but I still felt a massive sense of dread. It was a “I’m going to get you” kind of dread, not a dread based out of fear I wasn’t doing the right thing.

As I watched the spell burn and be completed, I felt a sense of weary accomplishment. The spell took a lot out of me, and I know it’s only the beginning. Yes, the spell was immensely successful, I know this through how well the spell completed, and with how so many spirits have been trying to get to me and aren’t happy that they can no longer leach off of me. But now I have continue this healing work.

And the next step is facing the disassociation and cleansing and restoring boundaries and energy protection. I’m realizing just how far I’ve come in the past few years, but also how much further I need to go.

I was sexually abused from the ages of (roughly) 1 1/2 to 4 1/2, then was verbally and emotionally abused until I cut my mother off 4 years ago. Disassociation was the only way I survived. I would, and still do, retreat into my mind and forcefully ignore whatever was going on my body or my direct surroundings. I start lashing out with frustration and anger because I got stuck in my mind somewhere and suddenly broke out of that and panic because I don’t feel safe because I checked out and do not know what is going on or where I am.

Heck, I’m even disassociating while writing this. I know that it’s a lot of this has increased recently because of the second round of memories coming back in the past month. So I’m going to wrap this post up. I need to let my body and spirit rest more, I have another long road ahead of me.

Resilience – Restoring

Content Warning: childhood sexual abuse, rape, incest, drugging. 

I am the survivor of childhood sexual abuse, starting roughly around the age of 1.5 and going to sometime before my 5th birthday. I discovered physical proof backing up my memories a few days ago. That shook me in ways I didn’t anticipate. I have learned to honor and respect the things my younger selves have finally felt safe to give me. But to have physical proof makes things a lot more concrete than just trusting your own mind memories and body memories.

It’s sometimes odd how fate decides to bring things about. I have multiple fellow survivors as close friends now. We are all in varying places in our journeys, we are all on different planes of the kind of healing required of these wounds. But do you know what brings us together even more than anything else? The fact that we hold space for each other’s stories and can validate that none of us are crazy for what we feel or remember.

I have shifted back and forth between an utterly overwhelming deep sadness at feeling my littlest self’s smallness and her massive disassociation at such a young age and anger that knows no bounds at the fucking bastard who did this to me. I can also trace back the spirit beings who continued to surround me every single step of the way. I see how they protected me from my soul being so shattered and splintered that I no long could hold on to myself. Just barely though.

I suppose there’s a question of why I am not cynical against those beings for not keeping my dad from sexually abusing me. I am not even sure how to react to that. While I firmly believe everything that has happened in my life has had a purpose, I don’t believe any deity should have come in and put a stop to the abuse. I had to go through that to become who I am today. But not because of what was done to me, but because of how my soul has fought continually to remove the filth put on me and restore it’s wholeness.

I am who I am today because I kept pushing on, I kept saying I’m not done yet. I am pushing to keep healing and fighting against the waves that constantly threaten to drown me. I’m fighting to heal and end this cycle because of those around me who do not have their voice. I am fighting to reclaim my power and my voice so I can speak up for them.

I have been sitting with the memories that have come back this week. I won’t be publicly sharing them as they are too graphic and too dark. They are the things I will share with fellow survivors to let them know they are not alone in their own darkness. I will be using my powers as a witch to make sure that I am removing and returning all of the negative energy and soul sucking yuck threefold.

I am not angry at my father for what he did to me. I am angry that my youngest self was treated so horrifically by my mother. My father? He is already reaping the consequences of what he did to me and my other siblings. So is my mother. I am more sad at the amount of disassociating I had to do to merely survive.

I’m working hard to rebuild and reclaim. Even though I know it is not possible to regain the childhood I never got to have, it is possible for me to make sure my own children get the fullest childhood to the best of my ability.

She’d say “You are so much stronger than you even think you are
Let your heart, let your heart lead the way”
That’s what she’d say

She’d Say – Andy Grammar feat. Lady Black Mambazo

We Are Safe.

Little one, we are here

Little one, I am holding you

Little one, our dragon is protecting you.

I see his sides glinting with shimmering opals

I see his eyes burning like rubies as their fierce glare burns those who are hurting you.

I see his wings spread to gather you close.

His fire bursts out as it’s destroys the space that has broken and beaten you.

I hear your wild cries and shrieks of terror in the night.

I see your hands wildly looking for safety.

I feel your pain when that safety is ripped from you.

I see your baby curls, the golden blonde ones,

The Shirley Temple look alike that drew so many smiles.

I see those curls being your curse.

I feel your fear of being noticed, your terror of being seen.

Being seen was unsafe, being noticed meant danger.

Baby Maeve, I feel your tears.

The ones you cried at night when no one saw you.

I see the shadow man waiting for you

I see his hands and fingers outstretched just waiting for darkness to fall.

I see you.

I hear you.

I feel your heart beat racing.

I feel that knot in the pit of your stomach.

I hears the whispers of “please no.”

We’re here to bring you home now.

Me and our Dragon.

He’s bringing you to me.

I will be your mama.

I will give you the love and kindness you were never given.

I will hold you, Baby Maeve, I will love you,

Forever and Always.

We’re bringing you home.

We’re bringing you to safety.

I can’t erase what the shadow man did.

I can’t take away the pain and confusion.

I can’t restore the childhood we never got.

I can’t be the mama who wasn’t there for you.

But I can love you now,

I can mother you now.

I can help soothe the rawness these wounds are causing us.

I can be safety for you.

I am safety.

We can hold you close,

We can wipe away the tears,

We can say over and over “I’m so sorry.”

This doesn’t and will not take away the pain.

But it will help, trust me, Baby Maeve,

It will give you the safety and love you have always needed.

I love you.

I believe you.

Baby Maeve

Acknowledge Us

Content Warning: Incest, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Rape, Being Drugged

I am strong.

I am powerful.

I was drugged so I could be controlled.

I was wounded.

I was broken.

I was shattered beyond any repair.

Or so I thought.

I recently was given a book written by a fellow childhood sexual abuse survivor. It’s almost funny how magnetizing those stories are and how so many of us find each other. Almost funny. ‘Cuz it’s really not, but it goes to show how powerful our stories are and how they draw us together. Our stories pull and shift so that we can find each other and know that, despite our abusers’ efforts, we are not alone.

The past month has been deeply shifting and transforming for me. A lot of layers were ripped back so old toxic wounds could be cleaned and then healed whole. A lot of these wounds have had to do with my mother. But two weeks ago in particular, I turned to my partner and told him that I realized I was feeling exactly how I did when my memories returned two years ago. Then I forgot about it because well life.

However, as I started reading the book my sister had given me, that uneasiness began to return. I made it 4 chapters into the book and had to put it down and walk away. I couldn’t read it. She was talking about how much she remembered and how she’s able to trace the abuse all the way through her childhood up to adulthood.

I am realizing as I write this that this is how I felt just before my memories returned 2 years ago. It was this uneasy sense of my story not being enough. Combined with a sense of something seriously missing but not being able to pin down what. Since some point last week, I have been carrying this uneasiness that something was shifting. Along with a deep desire to find someone who has a similar story to mine. It is really difficult to find another story like mine – one where the father was the rapist and the mother was the abuser.

As things were really sitting heavy with me yesterday, I kept trying to pull back to gain perspective. But as I did that, something started to fall into place. As I drove home from dropping my oldest off at school, I started tearing up. I have long thought that there was a good chance I was sexually abused at least once before being raped by my dad. Something happened before I could actually speak – the very least, speak in full sentences. This would line up with some of the things that didn’t get explained through the memories I have already had come back.

I have done a lot of work with reintegrating my younger self back into my soul, I even did a soul retrieval and brought her home. So when I got home from dropping my oldest off at school yesterday, I knew something was about to come through. I had lunch with a friend and thoroughly enjoyed chatting with them, but I felt the walls started to shatter and knew it was only a matter a time before it all came flooding out.

Yesterday afternoon, pieces started coming together. It was like I was standing there and calling those missing pieces to return to me. And they were coming back. Pieces were lining up, pictures were forming, and I could see the timeline starting to come back together.

I was sexually abused multiple times between the ages of 2ish to 5ish.

I believe the abuse started sometime before or during me being potty trained.

I couldn’t have said no. I didn’t know how to say no. It was not my fault.

The memories and feelings and sensations I’ve had return explain all of the gaps in my memories that I still didn’t have answers for. I still have missing places in my memories, but I am convinced those are because my brain couldn’t handle it anymore.

It explains my mother’s actions towards me even more.

I have been sitting with my youngest self and holding her and comforting her. My younger self who was brought home after my soul retrieval has been sitting with us too. We are both whispering and loving our youngest self and giving her the safe space she needs to “tell” us what happened.

I am sitting here watching my 2.5 year old happily play and build big legos all by himself. He unquestioningly trusts me to protect him and can be vulnerable around me and my partner. I watch my 5 year old feel safe enough to have a melt down because school was hard and he needs to just feel safe and held. Watching them have so much trust in us is a punch to gut knowing I once had that for my parents. Not only did neither of my parents hold that with respect and gentleness, they used and abused me and took advantage of my unquestioning trust in them.

I am sitting here and being gentle with myself today. Holding space and believing everything my youngest self gives for me to see. I am more present and grounded than I even have been with having memories coming back. My body is feeling relief of having the rest of the pieces.

And So It Is.