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On Magick, Agoraphobia, & Me Being Really Fucking Basic (Sep 2016)

I’ve been practicing magick for a long time. Sometimes on purpose, but often while not realizing it. Technically, we all practice magick all day, everyday with our thoughts—the Law of Attraction. And, as much as I had always “known” that the LoA was a form of magick—the main form, actually--I still got caught up in the formation of the spell: finding the right stones, right candles, right herbs, the right day of the week, time, materials, writing my own words, etc., forgetting that, at the end of the day, it was my Intent that really drove the spell. I guess we all get swept up in the ceremonial aspects of it sometimes. Even when I was casting little love spells as a teenager, I was very into the process, why I was doing things a certain way in the spell. It fascinated me. It’s the “Judgment” trait in me, I guess. Or Mercury in Virgo. I’m hyper-analytical.

Anyway, I went on a little beach trip with my boyfriend’s family last week. I threw up a few pictures on my business IG, and –ahem– several on my personal account, with many to come. Now, I suffer from agoraphobia and panic disorder. In case you don’t know what that is, it means that I have panic attacks all the time—triggered or not. While ultimately getting over my triggers over the past four years, the consequence of panic disorder is agoraphobia. This is a fear of leaving your house—usually, your “home,” which, for me, and most people I’ve talked to or read about, includes familiar places and people, not just the place you sleep. And the fear of having a panic attack makes me have panic attacks, so it basically makes me just want to stay inside and never go anywhere, meet anyone new, drive too far from home, be out too late, and become terrified of becoming “stuck,” (like in traffic, or unable to just go home to my “safe zone”) etc., etc. This is agoraphobia. The fear of fear. It’s ridiculous and completely illogical. I am simply and straightforwardly afraid of being too far away from my safe zones and having a panic attack.

Panic attacks feel awful. They have two aspects to them. One is the physical side, which is what I deal with mostly now. It feels like a heart attack. When a panic attack(s) is/are done, you are left entirely physically drained because of the adrenaline dump. Second aspect is the psychological reaction. You feel crazy. A sense of doom, the internet calls it. I usually describe it as that feeling you have when you’re in a nightmare, realize it’s a dream, and then begin to wake up—but you don’t wake up. You don’t feel real. Nothing feels real. It all feels distorted and fake and wrong. . I’ve found ways to keep that from happening now, but it’s the most terrifying part of panic attacks—the feeling of actually losing your mind, and not being sure if you’re going to come back—and, if the world you want so desperately to come back to is even real. It’s like Vanilla Sky, except a nightmare of fear and you know it’s all fake and you want to come back, but you can’t.  Not cool. 

I dealt with this every day for two and a half years before getting on medication. My panic attacks are mostly physical when they do happen, and they rarely happen now. I’m in a much better place in my life, and I’m with someone who gives me so much support, love, attention, and care that I’ve healed a lot of psychologically from my past. My agoraphobia is only beaten by challenge, and moving to the city was a big “exposure therapy” move. Still, though, it’s a part of my life, and something I couldn’t stop focusing on, every second of every day. My life has been bending around this stupid mental disorder like an abusive boyfriend. My dreams of traveling the world which I’ve had since I was a kid seemed impossible for me. I thought I would never be able to even sit on a plane, much less actually stay in another country! 

And then…

I got serious about magick again. I studied it, for real this time. I didn’t just look up spells on the internet like I did when I was in high school. I began reading books, learning as much as I could about it all, the different types, Paths, belief systems, eventually forming my own and casting effective spells and really coming into myself. And one of the first things I did after coming out of the broom closet as a Witch was host a Ouija session in my boyfriend’s and my apartment, something, as I’ve stated in a earlier blog, I never, ever, ever thought I would do. But I did it, and it was awesome, and I felt powerful and brave and strong for the first time in a long time. Over the next few months, I became so focused on research and understanding principles of magick and spellcasting, that I began to lose focus on the Intent aspect of it all—on the Law of Attraction. 

Of course, I had thought about working on my agoraphobia and addiction to the medication with sigils and, shit, I work with a god of healing for goodness sake! Why wasn’t I getting any better?! I kept asking for this to go away, but nothing was changing. And, as the date for the beach tripped loomed closer and closer, I began to panic. I started crying to my boyfriend, telling him that I wasn’t sure if I could do this, how scared I was, how awful it was going to be, etc. After a while, we talked about the trip, and made plans to be gentle and patient with me, talked about my coping mechanisms, and I calmed down. However, I couldn’t shake the acceptance that I was going to be unhappy and suffer from exhaustion, panic attacks, and sleepless nights for most of the trip.

And then it clicked for me. 

I’m a fucking idiot.

I know the Law of Attraction only hears “the thing.” I’ve known this for years and years and YEARS, yet I couldn’t follow that most important of rules when it came to the single most crippling and important focus on my life—my abusive boyfriend Agoraphobia. I was in the shower, where most of my more deep thoughts come to me, (as a Witch, I see that’s not a coincidence anymore! Go shower thoughts!) and I realized that I had just been saying, “I don’t want this. I wish I didn’t have this” instead of, “I am mentally healthy.” The simplicity of it hit me in the face. How fucking basic of me! Complaining and complaining, but not changing. I was so busy trying to conquer everything like a test or a puzzle that I overlooked just changing my motherfucking attitude. That quote, “Your problem is not the problem. Your problem is your problem with the problem” rings damn true.

So, for the next week, and the entirety of the trip, I kept telling myself, “I am mentally healthy, I am mentally healthy, I am mentally healthy.” And I was calm. I began looking forward to the trip. A week in a strange house, on a beach--an island, at that--a six hour long car ride, a house full of people, half of whom are extroverted, and all of whom drink and get a little wild (in a good way,not in a shitty way)—and I was totally freaking fine with it! I’m very proud to say that, while I got anxious in small moments, I didn’t have one single panic attack. I didn’t preform a single fucking spell. No candles, no rituals. Nothing. I read Harry Potter and played video games and swam in the ocean and got a raunchy sunburn. I even drank coffee! 

And that, my friends, is magick.

Arianna PageComment