Exquisite Self Care

I’m Back. Welcome to Witch ‘n Bitch.

Dear Gentle and Sexy Reader,

VOTE, y’all. Are you registered?

You’ve noticed I’ve been away for fucking ever a couple years. And that I’m no longer over at askdrding.com but over here, on a big-ass fancy professional website. It took me a minute, but I finally fully launched myself all the way out of the broom closet of being a semi-anonymous, sweary, shit-talking psychologist blogger who wrote in the third goddamned person for reasons unknown even to myself, to finally officially revealing myself as a the straight up Tarot reading witch and shamanic practitioner I’ve been, well, pretty much forever. I’m assuming you’re not totally shocked.

I’m over on IG a lot. And I have a cool af intersectional witch group forming over on the AskDrDing FB page, called Witch ‘n Bitch. But, you ask, “How do I know if Witch ‘n Bitch is my jam? I don’t own an actual cape or BoS, you see.” Excellent question!

First off, this is non-binary space. IDGAF about your genotype or phenotype or if you identify as male or female or have transcended the gender binary altogether. C’mon over. Tell us your pronouns.

Second: you don’t have to be a big boss witch, a Wiccan, or a witch of any kind. I’m a retired Catholic, a former altar girl at St. Patrick’s who still digs a lot of the traditions I was raised in, and in fact, it’s where my interests in mysticism originated back when I was a fake nun. We talk about what being a witch means, or doesn’t mean. In the end, it’s the results that matter to me most, so if you resonate with the group but don’t consider yourself a witch or a believer in the otherworlds, cool.

If you’re someone who’s into using magic/k, witchery, energy work, shamanism and/or other embodied spiritual practice to help fix the flaming pile of used diapers that is this country right now, including room for “deep trouble/good-hearted” hexing* along with healing…

If you’re someone who groks #blacklivematter, #POClivesmatter, #ibelievesurvivors, #resist, #LBGTQIA, and #bodypositivity along with #ableismexists …

If you’re able to dialog with others in a respectful way about spiritual and metaphysical topics and be willing to examine the ways these intersect with the lived experiences of oppression and patriarchy in your own life and in the lives of others…all while conspiring (literally “to breathe together”) to heal some shit in the right-now…

If you are an intersectional feminist who maybe secretly digs “woo” or who ain’t quite sure about the rest of it, but is open to learning…

If you’d also like to trade old-timey or newfangled spellwork, recipes, rituals, charms or invocations, discuss healing techniques, explore your spiritual/intuitive gifts, share stories of boldness, love, empowerment, healing, awakening, and grief…

You get the idea. Psychology, a discipline which used to encompass soul, mind, and spirit, has spent the last 50 years or so trying to forcibly separate the soul from the mind, and my stance in WnB is that I’m here to help make reintroductions and hold space for folks interested in limning these deeps. I expect the group to function independently at some point, like when I go on vacation or enter my hibernation cave in the winter.

You absolutely must answer the questions three to get in. Fact. This space must remain not only safe, but sacred. I’m not here to argue about it. My house, my rules, but the rooms inside are yours.

If I’m teaching anything, it’s along the lines of rediscovering and nourishing aspects of the Self and its ways of knowing that have been disallowed, fractioned off, suppressed, oppressed, or devalued. There are many Ways of Knowing. Multitudes. Not just the ones we’ve all been taught in textbooks and by the culture at large, or even in classes. Deeper, older ways that can be helpfully integrated with modern understandings if we have but eyes to look; ways, that, if applied over time, can result in a return to wholeness, to original blessing (as opposed to original sin), to singing the tired old bones to life again, and make them stronger from the breaking.

I am here to lovingly affirm that we can learn through joy as well as pain. We can regain power that seems forever lost to us at the hands of oppressive structures and forces. Every human being, I believe, has this ability to call their spirit back when the shit comes down.

I’m deliberately letting the ways and means of this group coalesce in a natural way. We are still “forming and norming” what this group is going to be about, because I had that “storming” part covered, around the time of the autumnal equinox and Aries moon, when something deep in my marrow finally arose and plainly spoke: ENOUGH.

Enough.

I’m turning 50 in a few months. This is a time of great change and even turmoil, the realization of unfinished business and incomplete mourning, of deeply knowing the certainty of death and the finitude of earthly time. Midlife can be, and is for me, the second adolescence of the psyche and body, and a revisiting of the awful and also glorious truths of life as revealed by the turning of the wheel.

It’s go time, baby. Let’s make it count. Tell your friends. Only the ones you know will be into it, though, ok? I’m weary of arguing with those who do not seem to be able to recognize that everybody matters, or nobody matters. Let’s create a cauldron of healing, of dreaming a new future where this gobshite diaper-fire patriarchy is a thing of the past and burnt to bits, and a healthy world is invoked and dreamt awake, where the Sacred Masculine and the Sacred Feminine coexist right here, right now, in real life, in real time, for earth and all her peoples. Blessed Be forever.

*Hexing = to bind and thereby neutralize harm, render harmless, dissipate, ward off, protect against, etc. You get it.

When Will Jesus Bring The Doughnuts?

accursed doughnut

Just thought I’d give y’all a little update.  I had reams of wild and woolly dreams last night, none of which I can presently remember clearly, but I’m pretty sure there was a giant sandwich involved in one of them.

Been doing a lot of musing and introspection lately, and let me tell you this; it totally blows donkey balls at 400 psi.  I need to stop asking my patients to do this, it’s totally gnarly.  Anycarbs, I realized last night that my problematic relationship with food probably began at a very young age, when I attended St. Patrick’s Church.  The math went something like so:

GO TO CHURCH + DOUGHNUTS AFTERWARD = ETERNAL SALVATION

Does that sound right to you?  I think I’m missing some kind of metaphysical denominator here, like “NUMBER OF SPRINKLES” or maybe “YOU’RE A GOOD GIRL!”.

Also: there is a poker cue jabbing me rather impertinently in the back of my brains at the moment.  How to fix besides a trip to Dunkin Donuts?  Please advise.

Adventures In Methane

magenta ski boot

I’m back on the Elimination Diet wagon, all old-timey like.  This is Day Four.  My last coherent memory has to do with chopping raw vegetables and drinking some kind of shake that tasted nothing like a bacon martini.  Nothing.  Like.

The hardest part so far has been withdrawing from caffeine, and it’s only been like 4 hours.  Ok, that’s a lie – I’m drinking some stealthy black tea right now.  Anyway, it sucks because it makes my eyeballs feel very bulgey.  Bulgy.  Bugly.

In preparation for downing 4 to 5 of the aforementioned scrumptious shakes per day in order to cleanse my sinful, dirty innards, I’ve been eating lots of veggies, fruits and legumes, and drinking lots of water.  And farting in three-part harmony.  And dissociating from reality in fun ways.  To wit: this morning I found myself up early and then vacuuming, laundering, dog-walking and inexplicably making beef jerky in a food dehydrator*.  I’m not sure what all this means because I should definitely be working on treatment plan updates instead of engaging in these Ding-inappropriate behaviors, but because I can’t really remember where I left my DSM-IVR I just gotta keep it real.  Thusly.  Bugly.

Why am I putting myself through this kind of recockulous fuckery?  I’m making a list because The Beyoncé and I live across the street from a goddamned Coldstone Creamery and this makes it hard to focus on other things.  No joke.

  • I wanna be able to fit my voluptuous calves into supercute magenta ski boots next season.
  • My aunt is a breast cancer survivor and reducing my body fat will improve my chances of not getting it.
  • Eating more green stuff is good for staving off Alzeheimer’s Disease.
  • I want a pair of those fancy 7even jeans in the worst way, and they only go up to a 12.  Bastards.
  • My allergy symptoms will get lots better.
  • Having more energy and sleeping great is nice.
  • My symptoms of PCOS and endometriosis will lessen considerably.
  • I want to be able to perform a lot of ninja-style moves on the dancefloor.
  • My thyroid function might improve.
  • I think gallivanting about town surrounded by a giant green methane cloud is sexy.

I think that’s enough.

Ed. Note: I forgot to include the * thingy.  * means that I actually own a real, 3-D food dehydrator and that I wasn’t referring to something related to the hot winds emanating from my hind end.  Just so we’re clear.

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