Tales of a Hereditary Witch

Ummmm, Hi. I might be as bad at answering this as Willy.

Heyyyyyy, I’m Allison.

Sup, 

So today’s been interesting. I ate a bagel. Read up on werewolves. Took a nap. Then got a phone call from an old friend, you know her as Willy, telling me she has a blog and that I need to post on it.

I’ve never really gone on the Tumblr was more of Blogger girl myself. So I scanned through stuff she’s written and read and people she follows and these are the things that I found. 

  1. Iver, I’m sorry, but yes at age three I was very set on marrying you.
  2. Will! You think I’m pretty? That’s nice.
  3. I don’t know if I’ve been so attracted to someone without seeing their face.(There are some hot worded bloggers out there)
  4. Willy, I miss you. 
  5. You admitted that I am stronger than you. You cheated. People reading this won’t get that but you do. You are a cheater. Done. 

I think I really like this Tumblr thing.

Anyway

The Topic: Witches that aren’t born into ridiculous families like Wilhelmina’s and have to deal with the battle of sticking true to their magic while sifting through bullshit and parents and peers and other things that get in the way.

I know it’s a long title, but I dig it.

I’m gonna take you on a trip down memory lane…………….it’s a long trip.

I remember things from when I was two years old. 

Sitting in flower beds and listening to fairies. Having pesky elves trying to subdue me with splinters. Teaching myself to read because I had to know if Mary Magdalen was pretty.

I used to lay beneath the mahogany stained pews in the old church and just listen to the choir rehearsals. My mother and grandmother were in the choir. All they sang was hymns night and day. The only way I could be put to sleep was with Christmas Carols. 

My mother simply thought I was an angel baby, sent to her by God. I was so smart and so charming and so beautiful…

I remember making things happen. I didn’t call it magick, I didn’t say I was a witch. I was too young to understand really what those things were. I was just a toddler but I always got things I wanted. I set my mind to silly things like seeing rainbows and luring out lizards and quieting creaky wood stairs on the way to steal cool whip from the freezer. I never threw tantrums or really asked for things. If I wanted them, they were mine. 

However being raised in the church I was taught to fear many things. The devil was bad and his minions were too. Being a child you’re also taught to fear things that live in closets and under beds and many children indeed have something to fear because that is where demons feel safe. 

I begun to spiral into kind of what Willy as previously alluded to, a very inconsistent and almost edgy magic practice. It wasn’t because of the fear of the things under my bed and in my closet. I was tortured because I was not scared. I felt them. I knew they were there but my whole life I’d been taught to fear dark and evil things. I couldn’t think them evil. They were just things, like I was just a thing.

My issue was that my brain seemed to be sectioned into what I knew because I was me and what I should fear because I was Allison the angel baby. They fought constantly. My denial made me shotty and a lose canon. I’d go to sleep resenting anyone’s happiness. There were times where I would see groups of girls playing and chasing boys and just being happy and there I was, seven at the time, such a complicated and torn child. I’d watch them all day and think of them all night constantly knowing that tomorrow they would not be friends. The next day sure enough they were fighting over nothing. There were a million and five other instances like that. I was chaos, slowly turning everything just like me so maybe I could understand.

If I had accepted what I knew instead of what I was taught, my childhood would have been a lot cleaner. It’s why many witches seem a bit tortured or eery and maybe a little dark, because we’ve had to fight with what we know and what others wish for us to be.

It’s hard, when no one around you thinks as you do and yet you only care because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care. There wouldn’t be religion or politics of groups of people didn’t think we should all believe a certain thing. I know my family is not magickal. I know I should feel like an outsider. The only reason I feel different though is because according to what my parents taught me I am supposed to want to be the same. When the truth is, I don’t care what they believe, and that’s what eats me away everyday. 

So to answer your question the answer is stop questioning.

If you are a witch you didn’t become anything.

You were born. 

If you are a witch then no matter how hard you fight it and no matter how much they say it’s not true you still know it’s there and you can’t hide from it. 

Just..believe what you’re feeling inside, it’s the only guarantee that it’s real. It’s the indecision that will kill you and harm others around you. If you know it’s true, believe because…no, know, because it will keep you alive. Those that falter or even attempt will surely die. Mine tore a hole in my heart and I was hospitalized for almost my entire thirteenth year. Forget questions of why you’re this way, just own it.