One of the excuses I made as to why it was okay to practice witchcraft and do spells was that I said it was like prayer, except that instead of merely saying useless words that God wasn’t hearing, I was still invoking deities and taking some action for myself (the working of the spell). This of course was incorrect, as I eventually discovered. The thing is, I think that deep down, I knew that this was wrong, but I was mad because I was in a situation where I felt like God had not been listening to me for a very long time. I chose a goddess to guide me, basically along the same lines of having a patron saint, except for this whole thing not being Christian. The goddess I chose was Hecate, and I chose her because of her associations with night, magic, witchcraft, necromancy, and sorcery. I also knew that her mythological home was the underworld and that was something I took great interest in. The purpose of choosing Hecate was to grow to where I would have power to work things that suited my purposes, whether it was evil purposes of revenge or good purposes of kindness to another, it still wasn’t mine to mess with.
I thought that Hecate would empower me, that I would be a strong woman and have some power and control over my own life without having to wait for God to decide if God was going to even hear me. Of course, I have since figured out that not only did God hear me all those times, but that God also was present with me despite my trying to run in the opposite direction. I had always some draw towards “the dark side” and this was finally my chance to go wild and check it all out, and find something that would actually change my life. It turns out that the deity to change my life wouldn’t be Hecate, but Jesus Christ. When it came down to it, Hecate didn’t know me and didn’t give a damn about me no matter how interesting and alluring she was to me, but Jesus did, and Jesus had been present in my life from the beginning even though I hadn’t recognized it until recently.
After growing up in the darkness, it was a comfortable and even comforting place to be. I wanted to join Hecate in the underworld, were that a possibility. I knew that wasn’t reality, but I certainly wished it to be so. I figured it had to be a fascinating place to be, the coolness factor was high for me. But I had also had experiences in my life where it would have made perfect sense for me to find such a place and stay. It was a misguided dream of things I knew would never happen but I could imagine, and since it couldn’t happen then I would basically apprentice myself to Hecate because that was the closest I would ever get.
What I didn’t count on was Jesus. As I spent time trying to immerse myself into the world of witchcraft so that I could find somewhere to belong and have some power and control over other people (which is, I must say, extremely unethical and even evil, it’s why the political scene in this country is the way it is, because of people wanting to exert power over other people in exchange for money. I’m not trying to glamorize this, it was an evil thing I did). I was trying hard to ruin my life (again) with witchcraft. One thing I am extremely good at is coming up with bad ideas. It so turns out that Jesus can forgive and also heal the lingering effects of bad ideas badly executed.
It actually happened rather suddenly. One Saturday I started feeling a yearning for Jesus, but not strongly enough to do anything about it. I had not been to church in months because I had just moved an hour away, but I was still working for the church and was still a member of that church, but I used the move as an excuse as to why I couldn’t come to services, it was because I was already driving there through the rest of the week. I woke up that Sunday morning, and it hit me that what I was truly craving was Jesus. I needed to receive the Eucharist. I needed to consume Jesus because I was starving myself spiritually. I got my ass back into a pew in a parish closer to my home the very next Sunday.
When it came to a patron saint, I never had to choose her, she chose me. St. Mary Magdalene showed up one day and her story spoke life into my soul.
This was the second time that the Eucharist, the precious body and blood of Christ, brought me back to God.