How I came to Love the Goddess by Priestess Danika
Orignal Post made on Nov. 25th 2013 on my blog Dancing Under a SakuraMoon
I have been a happy pagan for the last 15 years of my life. I began my practice at age 14, when I realized everything I had been taught about the Christian god would do nothing to help me grow. Up until my 14th birthday, I was a faithful unquestioning good Christian girl. When I was 8 I was molested by my cousin, who was an upstanding Christian youth in the community and my family, but when I spoke about what he did to me, my family turned their backs on me…called me a liar, said something was horribly wrong for me to make up stories like that. When I was 10, my aunt died and my world was basically lost. She was my confidant the one I went to when no one else would listen. She had a smart ass antedate for everything. From 12 to 15 I was subject to the harshest bullying I would ever face. Couple that with the fact that my family thought something was incredibly wrong with me and refused to listen to me I was alone and forgotten denied my say unless I played good Christian girl.Several times I was told to renounce my search for the truth of who I was and go back to Christ. I refused. And continued to be shunned. Called a sinner and diagnosed at a very young age with Bipolar with Scherzo affective Disorder. (I learned of what I was diagnoses with FINALLY after years of asking). I was hospitalized first at 13 and then at 16. Part of my diagnoses? Believing I was a witch. Back then no one understood Wicca and witchcraft, and it was something to fear and shy away from. I was basically given a diagnosis, drugged up and locked away because I am a witch. Silly Christians…When I was 16, I was visited by my family in the hospital and in front of the board sending me home that day, my grandmother formally announced they no longer wanted me in their home. This sent me reeling, and in a state of shock. They were family… how could family do this. Needless to say this resulted in a large unrepairable rift between my family and me. One that continues to fester to this day.While in the group home, I was once again bullied… not by the rich kids at school but by the youth in the home who were actual wards of the state. My mom never gave up custody… she just didn’t want me to be in a mental hospital any more. I was stolen from, lied on, pushed around, shoved, my things ruined, school projects ruined. My files read because the girls were that sneaky, and information inside used against me. I was given glasses with soap in the bottom at pill times (which went right back in the sink). Until finally they decided to pull the worst prank of all and said I was sexually assaulted by the director (which wasn’t true). The state wanted to remove me from the house… but my mom told them no cause she had custody. I went on a rampage through their rooms destroying everything that meant something to them. I was taken to another house in the group homes name and while there, the girls were forcibly removed from the house and sent to a facility somewhere else in the state.I graduated from high school with only one friend who remains close and dear to me. I recently caught up with people I grew up with thanks to the magic of Facebook. Mind you I made it through my senior year just barely. Drugged up on prescription meds, which my doctors refused to believe was too high. Diabetes form one of the pills. Taking up to 20 pills a day for whatever they had diagnosed me with. Sleeping through my first three classes woke up at lunch, groggy the rest of the day. Did homework while being harassed by middle school teenagers, in a group home having a shitty senior year. Well, because I have been tossed between three different high schools, my hopes to get into my dream college were dashed. So I settled for community college, which didn’t have their shit together either. So from 2002 to 2008 I was stuck on a merry go round.In 2006, I lost my best friend and first Girlfriend to mysterious circumstances. Coupled with a volatile relationship with my mother, and family and the fact that I was in a place of uncertainty… I fell into a deep and dark hole of depression. In 2007, I attempted to kill myself by taking my entire supply of medication for bipolar with scherzo affective disorder. Needless to say I wound up in the hospital and nothing change. I lied and said it was a mistake, and was let go. My family still treats me like the shit between their toes… I don’t think that will ever change. I met my daughter’s father in 2008, thinking I met a wonderful pagan man and moved to Indiana. I was wrong. He often left me alone, pregnant with our child to go party with his friends; go out to strip clubs, and waste the money we needed to save on shit we didn’t need. He yelled at me for not keeping the house clean (which was a migrant farmer’s shack) and for being lazy. I had undiagnosed hyperthyroidism, preeclampsia, and gestational diabetes and couldn’t keep food down. Lazy my ass….In 2009 my daughter was born and I began to get better. All the weight I lost began to return. But my relationship with my daughter’s father was in shambles. He was constantly accusing me of cheating. But he often left me alone to go drinking, partying, smoking weed, hanging with his step dad who also smoked weed, and getting in trouble. He would yell at me and our daughter for no reason at all. He invited his friend to live with us, who found pictures and video of my daughter’s father and me (pre-pregnancy) and fell in lust. I was accused of sleeping, and flirting with him. Typical male.So in 2011 we hit bottom and I left him. I began finding my way back to the Goddess and God, through mediation, reading, prayer, fasting, and ritual. Found other pagans, and began to grow my witchy web. I came to peace and terms with my life and began to work to turn certain places in my life around. I met a man in 2012 who is my current boyfriend whom I love with every fiber of my being. I dream of him when I sleep, and think of him as I go through my waking life. My daughter adores him and my mom likes him.I watch others who say they love god and Jesus and if it does it for them, good… but some seem so angry and bitter for no reason at all. Why? Does knowing you have a god that works for you… not bring you peace and joy? I know my Goddess and my God bring me plenty of peace and joy. I find comfort at night with the goddess Nyx. And find joy and energy in the day with the god Apollo. Why can’t you’re god give you peace as well? Can’t help or understand everyone. So I start with me, and help any lives I can along the way. That brings me joy.