Greetings my lovely, feral, dark, and bright ones,

The physical house clean wasn’t the only major purge happening under this roof during my oasis from work. Lately, my spirit has been doing its own aggressive deep-clean, tearing down old armor I don’t even need anymore.

This massive shift in my thinking didn’t just happen out of nowhere; it was entirely brought about by the profound clarity that followed my mom’s passing. When she left this earth, it felt as though a huge, heavy, weighted curse that had been placed on me since birth by both my mother and grandmother was finally, completely lifted. Before anyone dares to call that “bashing,” stop right there. It is NOT. It is the simple, raw truth of my lived experience. Experiencing that literal lifting of a lifelong weight completely rewires how you view yourself and your power. For the first time in my life, the air is clear, the generational shackles are gone, and the fear is completely dead. There is no more walking on eggshells, and I am done hiding myself from anyone.

For the longest time, I thought managing dark times meant I had to match that frequency. When the world got heavy, I turned to blood, gore, and horror films—using that controlled, fictional terror as a pressure release valve. But recently, we sat down to watch The Lost Boys, and it hit my system like a physical poison. The blood and the visceral gore didn’t thrill me; it made me want to throw up. My body was staging its own coup, literally rejecting the heavy, dark imagery I used to force-feed it. I realized I don’t have any intention of watching horror ever again. I don’t even like the goth, all-black aesthetic anymore. It’s just not me.

Instead, I’ve been feeding my system with things that spark genuine comfort, magic, and pure joy. I found myself revisiting comfort favorites like Charmed. What I love about that show is that it isn’t about cheap jump scares or forced darkness; it’s anchored entirely in the power of sisterhood, protecting the home sanctuary, and navigating real-world family dynamics while wielding deep personal power. Piper has always been my absolute favorite—she’s the literal anchor of the family, fiercely protective of her home, and entirely relatable (even if I absolutely hated how they handled the series ending). It’s a brilliant reflection of my own path. I can leave the feral, dark, combative magic to the outside world—just like my big sister Vickie holds down that fort in her own way. My connection to the craft is about being the keeper of the light, grounding my space in seasonal traditionalism, and protecting my peace. Like the Halliwell sisters, my ultimate power comes from standing firmly in my truth and guarding my home from draining external forces. I’ve also been wrapping myself in the neon-fused, musical magic of Xanadu and the classic, feel-good transformation story of Pretty Woman. It’s pure nostalgia, great music, and vibrant styling—media that actually fuels my energy instead of draining it.

I found myself standing in the shower recently, asking a quiet question that had been bubbling up from my core: You used to be entirely about bright colors, sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. You loved pink, purple, and yellow. What happened to that?

What happened is life got heavy, and I built a fortress out of shadows. But armor gets heavy after a while, and you realize you don’t have to live in a dark room just to protect yourself. I used to think that walking a deeply spiritual path meant I had to embrace the macabre. I don’t need to copy anyone else’s frequency to possess real power. As Audrey Hepburn so beautifully put it: “I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner… I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong… I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.”

Spirituality isn’t a monochrome block. The earth isn’t just made of dark winter nights; it’s made of blazing sun, fields of wildflowers, and bright, ripe citrus. I am shedding the forced darkness and stepping entirely into my truth: I am a Sunlit Hearth Witch.

My magic lives in the warmth of the home, the safety of the sanctuary, and the deep, rhythmic turns of the seasons. When I think of the colder months ahead, I’m not chasing horror-filled Halloweens or toxic gore anymore. My mind wanders to the sacred, quiet roots of Samhain, to pumpkins, and to the cozy firelight of Yule. If I want to celebrate the spooky season, I’ll be turning to the fun, cute Halloween classics—the nostalgic Disney movies and lighthearted autumn magic that bring a smile to my face rather than code-red anxiety to my system. I am the one who brings the light into the room, who keeps the hearth fire burning, and who uses the vibrant, high-vibrational energies of yellow, pink, and purple to invite absolute joy, promise, and hope for a brighter life. To anyone who thinks my boundaries mean I’m being “difficult,” I’ll just lean into what Marilyn Monroe famously said: “If you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.”

This evolution is bleeding into every single corner of my world, and my afternoon trip to Mystic Cavern was all about stocking up on the exact spiritual tools to anchor this shift. I completely replenished my cabinet with loose ritual herbs, black salt, and hot foot powder to keep my boundaries iron-clad. Every single bundle has its purpose: I got bags of Horehound for banishing spells and keeping unwanted energies or influences out of my space, Calamus Root to pull in good luck and command control over tied-up situations, Motherwort to guard the hearth against unwanted entities while anchoring love in our relationships, and Licorice Root for compelling work and stoking passion. I also filled my signature glass apothecary counter jars with Copal resin incense for deep spiritual healing, Sassafras for stoking positive energy and financial fortune, Spearmint for abundance and healing, and Lemon Balm to welcome health, longevity, and pure joy into the home.

To clear out the residual heaviness of the past week, I grabbed a specialized jar of “Protect” incense cones packed with Frankincense, Black Pepper, and Clove. And to match the work on the altar, I picked up a fresh pack of elemental chime candles—stark black for banishing, vibrant green for grounding, a bold orange to spark creativity, pure white for peace, and a sunlit yellow for absolute joy and success. While browsing, I also found the most incredible green and gold Tree of Life journal with intricate Celtic knotwork, which will serve as the new sacred home for indexing my shadow work and insights. Finally, to bring the ultimate energy of self-compassion into the sanctuary, I picked up a delicate, carved rose quartz rose to place right beside my mom’s dried purple rose on her memorial shelf.

This weekend, my messy altar is getting a complete, intentional reorganization to house all of this beautiful new energy. It sits crowned by a beautiful canopy of ancestors—including six vibrant red cardinal figurines representing my brother Mickey, my three grandparents, Ron’s dad, and now my mom—watching over me from the highest level of respect. I am finally steering my boat out of the rough, chaotic waves and into a calm, organized, and beautifully sunlit harbor.

In Part 3 of this series, I’ll be sharing how this energetic shift is rolling right into the physical styling of our home, the proud heritage Ronnie and I are fully stepping into, and the incredible fun hauls that made this oasis day one for the books.

The light is back on, the hearth is warm, and the summer belongs to me.