Finding My Path: From Christian Upbringing to An Eclectic Spiritual Path

I grew up in a Christian home — the kind where Sunday mornings were for church, holidays were steeped in tradition, and questions about faith weren’t really welcomed. There was a box we were all supposed to fit into, and for a long time, I tried my best to squeeze myself inside it.

But something never felt quite right.

Even as a kid, there was this quiet voice in the back of my mind whispering, “This doesn’t feel like home.”

At fifteen, that whisper got louder.

I started questioning everything — not out of rebellion, but out of curiosity, out of a need to understand why this path didn’t feel like mine. While other teens were locking down their beliefs and preparing for baptism or ministry trips, I was sitting in the woods asking the wind questions, journaling under the moonlight, and trying to make sense of the disconnect I felt.

Still, I didn’t have the words or the freedom to explore that calling.

---

Breaking Away Took Time… and Pain

It wasn’t until I became an adult — a mother — that I finally stepped back from Christianity altogether. And I want to be honest here: that decision didn’t come from a place of peace at first. It came from pain.

Years of mental, emotional, sexual abuse, and physical abuse left deep marks on my psyche. I endured years of manipulation, hurt, and silencing — sometimes at the hands of those who called themselves “Christian.” Those who preached love and compassion but displayed anything but that in their actions.

Some of the deepest scars I carry were made by hands lifted in prayer on Sunday, voices singing hymns of devotion, yet the same hands that were used in violence and control throughout the rest of the week. This contradiction plagued me for so long. I tried to reconcile that hypocrisy. I questioned my beliefs, my upbringing, and whether faith could coexist with such wounding behavior. I sought out guidance, trying to find a way to forgive those who did not deserve my forgiveness, hoping that it would somehow lighten the burden I carried.

I made attempts to forget those memories, longing to fall back into faith the way I had been taught. I wanted to believe that love and forgiveness could conquer all — that perhaps one day, the teachings of my childhood would once again resonate within me. But instead, my efforts felt like pouring water into a broken vessel; nothing would fill the emptiness.

Every prayer I recited, every scripture I read, seemed to echo my own dissonance. Despite my hope and attempts to return, my soul couldn’t do it anymore. It became clear that my spirit yearned for a different truth — a truth not defined by manmade doctrines but one rooted in love, acceptance, and an understanding of my own worth. I began to recognize the importance of healing over religion, understanding that it was time to reclaim my identity outside of the labels and constraints I had inherited. This realization, though painful, also marked the beginning of my journey to freedom.

Praying felt like a lie. I don’t know how else to explain it; each word seemed hollow, echoing in the emptiness of my heart, and as I uttered my hopes and fears into the silence, I questioned the very essence of faith and the sincerity of my pleas. I found myself searching for meaning in a ritual that once brought me comfort, feeling instead a profound disconnection that left me wondering if I was simply talking to the void.

---

Choosing My Own Healing

Eventually, I made a choice. Not out of bitterness or hate — but out of survival. I chose to stop looking for peace in a place that only ever gave me pain.

I chose me.

I began asking again, like I had when I was 15: What is the path for me? What brings me peace? What feels like truth in my bones?

And slowly, I began to find the answers.

At 25, I cracked open the door to the craft again — this time with intention, with gentleness, with a heart wide open to the possibilities. And the moment I stepped through, I was hit with this overwhelming wave of euphoria. Peace. Wholeness. A sense of home.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was pretending. I wasn’t forcing myself to believe something that didn’t fit. I wasn’t playing a role to make others comfortable.

I was me — and I was free.

As I embraced this newfound freedom, my perspective on life began to shift dramatically. The walls that had confined me for so long started to crumble, revealing a vast expanse of opportunities that I had previously overlooked. I discovered that being true to myself meant engaging with the world authentically, exploring my passions, and surrounding myself with those who uplifted me rather than dragged me down.

Each step along this journey was accompanied by moments of introspection and clarity. I revisited my childhood dreams and aspirations, which had been overshadowed by doubt and fear. The act of re-engaging with my interests breathed new life into my spirit, sparking creativity and inspiration that had languished for far too long.

I also learned the importance of self-acceptance. Embracing the imperfections that made me unique became a powerful act of defiance against the judgments of others. I discovered that vulnerability brought me closer to my true self, allowing me to connect with others on a deeper level.

In this space of self-discovery, gratitude began to blossom. Each day, I found reasons to appreciate the small moments — a warm cup of coffee in the morning, a laugh shared with a friend, the beauty of a sunset. These seemingly mundane experiences transformed into reminders of the joy that life could offer when viewed through a lens of authenticity.

As the journey continued, I realized that the choice I made to prioritize myself was not just a momentary decision, but a lifelong commitment. It encouraged growth, healing, and a relentless pursuit of happiness aligned with my values and beliefs. The door I had cracked open had become a gateway, leading me toward a life filled with meaning, connection, and boundless potential.

I was me — and I was free.

---

Finding My Place in the Path

The craft is vast and layered, and in the beginning, I wandered through it like a curious traveler with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. There are so many paths within this world — Deism, Pagan Spirituality, Wicca, Druidry, Hedge Witchery, Green Witchcraft, and more, each one steeped in rich tradition and unique philosophies. Each one is beautiful in its own way, offering insights and practices that resonate deeply within the seeker. But I needed to find my path — the one that spoke to my spirit and my ancestry, the one that would connect me to the stories and wisdom of generations past while allowing me to express my own individuality. In my quest, I sought not only knowledge but also a sense of belonging and understanding of myself in relation to the universe and the myriad of energies that entwine us all.

And I did.

I found myself drawn again and again to Ancestral work, Norse traditions, Pagan roots, and Kitchen Witchery. In this enchanting journey, I have delved into the rich tapestry of my heritage, seeking wisdom and guidance from the spirits of my ancestors. My magic is in the food I cook, carefully selecting ingredients that resonate with both my heart and the land. The herbs I grow are not merely plants; they are allies in my craft, imbued with powerful energies that elevate my creations. As I whisper runes of intention and protection, I feel the threads of ancient knowledge weaving through my being. The fire in my soul burns fiercely, illuminating my path and refusing to be dimmed. Each day is a celebration of this mystical connection, as I honor the past while nurturing the present with love and intention.

I honor my ancestors.
I talk to my gods and spirits.
I stir intention into my tea and light candles with purpose.
I am an Eclectic Witch — unbound, unboxed, and unapologetic.

---

For Anyone on the Edge

If you’re standing at the threshold, unsure if you can step away from what you were taught, unsure if there’s another path that could hold you — let this be your sign that you can.

You are not wrong for questioning.
You are not broken for wanting peace.
And you are not evil or lost or misguided for choosing a different kind of spiritual truth.

Whether you’re Pagan, Witch, Spirit-led, or still figuring it all out — I see you. This path isn’t about perfection. It’s about healing. It’s about remembering who you are before the world told you who to be.

---

So here I am now — no longer afraid to say it out loud.

I am not Christian.
I am a Witch.
I am whole.
I am healing.
And I am finally home.

Much love and many blessings,
Mrs. B