I recently stumbled upon this awesome writing prompt on Tumblr called “Write Your Witchcraft” that I thought would be an interesting series of reflections for myself. I haven’t really put a whole lot of thought behind my craft or practice beyond “why” and “how”, so I feel these questions will be a good way to honor my path. I might lump a few of the questions together depending on how long the answers are, but the first question deserves its own post, I think. Like an introduction.

What draws me to witchcraft?

Growing up, I was drawn to the concept of magic. My favorite stories, movies, and TV shows were those in which the characters possessed some sort of magical ability, or lived in a world where magic thrived. I was envious; I wanted to be just like those characters, wielding power that shaped the world in fantastical ways, living in a realm full of wonder and myth and legend. Most every kid’s dream, right? What we wouldn’t give to summon elements or influence objects or magic away all our problems.

As I grew older, those stories stuck with me. I became the person my parents more or less wanted me to be: quiet, amiable, polite, good student, driven, creative, motivated, responsible. At the back of my mind, however, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the world than what our limited senses perceive. Many of my teenage years were spent researching paranormal activity and psychic ability. I remember spending countless nights in my room trying various techniques that I could later show off, hoping beyond hope that maybe I had some cool power, some magic hidden away that I needed only to unlock.

Witchcraft wasn’t really one of my research topics at the time. I brushed it off as something exclusive to Wicca, and Wicca, to my teenage mind, was something “far away,” reserved only for a select number of people. I honestly didn’t explore witchcraft as something more than Wicca until a few years back, when I had exhausted my interest in spiritualist topics and found myself seeking more. Prior to that, I learned that I did possess some form of power — a small selection of gifts that allowed me to attune to something more profound than myself. That revelation was the foundation of my spiritual path.

I had power. I was power. And I could use that power to help myself, and others, and more than I could imagine… At least, that’s what it felt like.

It’s a thrilling thing, for an insecure teenager, to realize that you have worth and power. I wasn’t necessarily in a terrible place. Not at all. I wasn’t bullied by anyone other than my older brother, and his unkindness was that of a young man learning his worth and power — specifically, his power over me. If I made him unhappy, he made it known to me, and I felt powerless. My parents never really knew, and I was afraid to tell them. How could I tell them? The one time I tried, he denied it, and not even I, the responsible, honest daughter, could convince them otherwise.

So I remained quiet, and let him grow up.

High school was far more tolerable. My brother made his mistakes, and I spent my time focusing on myself, my future, my dreams. Always my dreams. I graduated high school, jumped straight into expensive art school, and told myself I’d make it as an illustrator slash writer. I had it all figured out.

Until my second year of art school, when I didn’t.

Art school completely consumed my passion for drawing. It sucked the soul out of my creativity. I realized toward the end of my second year that I was not built to be an illustrator. I wanted to improve, but I could not picture myself slaving away hours toward a career as a freelance artist. It didn’t feel like my path. So I made the decision: I’d drop out and take a year off to soul-search.

My parents were extremely disappointed. They wanted me to finish school. They even encouraged me to switch to a writing degree, instead, but I wasn’t having it. I felt done with school; my motivation was sucked out of me. I spent the next few years in a depressive haze and threw myself into video games and fantasy worlds just to escape the shame and anxiety and disappointment. I tried to cling to spirituality, but even that wasn’t helping me. I had no idea where to go. I still wanted to write, to create, to breathe magic into the world… but I felt directionless. Powerless.

What ultimately helped me was a change of scenery and a job. I moved to the Pacific Northwest with my parents, got a job at a local craft store, and slowly regained my power. And it was around that time when I decided that I would never be powerless again. I was going to build my ideal life, one brick at a time, regardless of what anyone thought. Intention, determination, focus, and drive got me this far.

It took me just over two decades to realize that this whole time, I’d been performing magick. I clung to whatever gave me a sense of power, when in reality, that power was coming from myself. I am magick, as we all are — but I had a lot to learn to fine-tune that power.

That, today, is what draws me to witchcraft: self-empowerment. The ability to stand up for myself, set an intention, and manifest. Even my dad, who does not make room in his life for a drop of the magical, knows me to be incredibly driven. I make my dreams happen. That’s what I do. Despite what I’d believed when I was younger, witchcraft isn’t about “playing with magic.” It’s a tool, and one I intend to use to my advantage.