“And that’s totally normal. We don’t all know our purpose in life. Especially when we’re young. All we can do is ask ourselves, what kind of person do I want to become? What kind of witch do I want to become?” One corner of his mouth lifts higher. “What problems do you see in the world? What’s causing them? Who are the most important people in your life? What are your values?”
I sigh, a smile tugging my lips. “Okay, I get it.”
“You can’t answer all those questions right now. Or in a day. Maybe even in a lifetime. But keep asking them. That’s where you’ll find the purpose of your life. Whether you’re a witch… or not. And if you choose not to be a witch, you still have unique talents. You still have magic in you with your ability to treat people with empathy, care, and humor. To make them feel happy, connected, valued. To strive for justice and fairness. You don’t have to be a witch to do that.”
More emotion swells in my chest, nearly choking me. I pull in a shaky breath. “Thank you. Dad.”
I love his smile.
When I’m alone, I lay down, hugging my furry pillow.
Last night, after Trace left, I felt so lost. So alone. I knew it was going to end like that, but I hate that he was angry. Except I don’t get why he’s so angry.
I wished things could be different. That Trace had fallen in love with me too. That instead of arguing, he’d told me that, and… well. Wishes don’t matter.
Feeling helpless and a little hopeless, I’d stepped out onto my balcony to gaze up into the sky, as I have so many times when I need to feel grounded. The moon was there. It’s always there even though sometimes we can’t see it. Last night it was a tiny, shining sliver in the sky. Today is the new moon. A time for new beginnings. It seems to me that with the moon out of sight it could be a perfect time to do shadow work. To examine my darker selves. The selves I keep hidden.
I hope I’m ready for this.
24
Romy
Much as I want to give up on witchcraft, I owe it to Joe—Dad—and the family to at least do this. I know it’s a serious decision—there’s no going back. If I don’t take the exam within a year of learning about my powers, I can never do it. So.
I gather what I need. I have a candle from the Charming Chalice, scented with amber and oud. It flickers on my coffee table, spreading its warm, sweet scent. I have a crystal—satin spar—that helps with mental clarity and strengthens the connection to intuition. I’ve gathered some materials to help me through this.
My condo is completely silent. Morning sun streams through the window, illuminating all the pretty colors I’ve added to my space. My home. My sanctuary.
The first thing I learn is how we suppress parts of ourselves to please people, to fit in. Like my mom. I learned to repress parts of myself to please her and do well in school. I had no idea at the time of course; I just wanted her approval and love.
I relive memories from my childhood, and yes, in hindsight, they’re painful. And sad. I even feel anger and resentment toward my mom, although I love her too. I’m supposed to honor these feelings, because they are what lead me to knowing the emotional wounds hidden in my subconscious.
The feeling of not being enough. Fear of not being able to please my mom. Or anyone. Fear of not fitting in or being loved. Fear of expressing emotions and being vulnerable.
I watch the flame of the candle burning steadily as I let these feelings wash over me, then close my eyes. I want to cry, and as usual I try to stop that. Wait. That’s not honoring the feelings. So I let the tears flow. Pushing the emotions down only blocks the false beliefs and drives them deeper into my subconscious.
Why is not being a good witch triggering me so much? Why is my failure to make Trace love me triggering me?
It all becomes clear as I let my thoughts and emotions run loose. I’m supposed to write things down, so I do, this time opting for a pretty journal and a pen that Cassie gave me ages ago.