Coming Out of the Spiritual Closet

How I stopped suppressing my intuition, let go of the stigma, and finally gave myself permission to explore the part of me that had always been there.

When I was 16 years old, I walked into Pyramid Books in Salem, Massachusetts. It was my first real encounter with anything “spiritual” or “witchy.” I was with my friend Jessica, and we both had a mission: to learn about witchcraft and start doing spells.

I think back to that day, which I still remember so vividly, and how naive and young we were. But I also recognize it as a time when my true, authentic self started to emerge.

I grew up in a Catholic home. Not the type that went to church every Sunday and prayed before meals, but the modern Italian Catholic home where we were baptized, went to CCD, received our First Communion and Confirmation, and were encouraged not to “sin.” We very rarely went to church outside of those events.

Even then, I found that odd. I was raised to be Catholic and abide by the “rules” of “God,” but we didn’t actually go to church regularly, read the Bible, or practice much of the religion in our everyday lives.

Around the same time I stepped into that witchy shop in Salem, I was also attending classes for my Confirmation. If you’re Catholic, you understand this. Confirmation is almost like a rite of passage so you can eventually get married in the church. At least, that’s what I understood of it at the time.

And at 16, I didn’t give two shits about getting married, let alone getting married in a church.

I also didn’t necessarily believe in “God.”

Now, when I say that, I don’t mean that I didn’t believe in something. I mean that I didn’t believe in the image of a man with long hair and a white robe as my “creator” or the reason for my existence.

I believed in something different.

I believed that the universe as a whole was “God.” The Earth. The elements: fire, water, earth, and air. The plants and trees. Animals. The solar system. Nature. All of it.

That was what I believed to be my creator and “God,” if you will.

I ultimately ended up walking out of my Confirmation in protest of something that didn’t feel aligned with who I was. That was when the suppression of my spirituality began.

I knew there was something different inside me. I just didn’t yet know how much of my life I would spend trying to silence it.

From a young age, even before that fateful day of walking into that bookstore or walking out of my Confirmation, I knew I was different. I knew I had “gifts” that most people did not. I could sense things before they happened. I could speak someone’s name and then they would suddenly appear. I had a strong intuition and an awareness of energy, although I didn’t have the words for any of it at the time.

After walking out of my Confirmation and voicing how I felt about church, God, and the beliefs I had been raised with, I naturally started to become the black sheep of my family. Whether they realized it or not, I felt as though a belief system was being forced on me that I simply didn’t feel connected to.

Around that same time, I really started expressing myself outwardly. I wore black clothes and dark lipstick, got piercings, listened to metal music, and started exploring what it looked like to simply be myself. I loved that part of me.

But it was frowned upon.

My parents didn’t approve, and neither did much of society at the time. So naturally, I started to hide it. I felt as though I wasn’t allowed to be who I truly was or who I wanted to be.

This was also around the time I started experimenting with drugs and alcohol. I found myself hanging around with kids who had similar interests and who were also the black sheep of their families. When we went home, we appeared to be who our parents wanted and approved of. But outside of our homes, we were free. We could be who we wanted to be.

Drugs and alcohol helped numb the feelings of not being accepted by my family or by society. They gave me a way to escape.

I spent years using drugs to suppress my true self in an attempt to feel accepted. Little did I know, that escape would eventually lead to a full-blown heroin addiction.

Sobriety was the beginning of a new life, but I still had a long way to go before that life actually felt like mine.

I spent the early part of my 20s as a menace to society, to myself, and to my family. I was in full-blown addiction. Heroin.

I can still remember that period of my life so vividly. I was in and out of rehab and detox, and I just couldn’t seem to get my life together.

To this day, I still feel so much compassion for the girl I was back then. I was just trying to find my way in life and figure out who I was. I had spent so much time feeling like being myself was something to be frowned upon that, eventually, I found a way to escape from myself entirely.

I sympathize with that girl I was then, and I still cry for her.

Eventually, I was able to get my shit together. There wasn’t some huge epiphany or major event that suddenly led to my sobriety. It was years of being so tired, mentally, physically, and emotionally, that eventually something just clicked: I need to stop living this way, or I am going to die.

I broke free from my addiction on October 15, 2006. This year will mark 20 years that I have remained free from that demon.

Even though I was able to break free from the demon of addiction, I wasn’t able to fully break free from the years I had spent suppressing my true self.

Eventually, I went on to build a new life. I got married, had children, and did all the things society tells you you’re supposed to do. The white picket fence. Kids playing sports. A happy life.

Or so it seemed.

Deep down, I was still that young girl screaming to express herself. I spent years continuing to shove that part of me down.

I won’t say too much about my marriage, but I never felt fully comfortable expressing my true self there either. I would often hide my anxiety or depression just to keep the peace.

It was sometime around 2017 (the timeline is a little blurry) when I finally decided I had had enough. I was so fucking tired of hiding my true identity. My true self.

I wanted to be free from all the pressure and expectations that my parents, my husband, and society had placed on me. I wanted to figure out who I was underneath all of it.

I just couldn’t take it anymore.

It would take nearly a decade, but I was finally ready to find my way back to the girl who walked into that witchy little bookstore in Salem and felt, maybe for the first time, like she had found something that made sense.

In 2017/2018, I uprooted my entire life so I could finally become who I truly felt I was inside. I got divorced, sold my home, made incredibly difficult decisions regarding my children, and moved into a little apartment in Salem, just 500 feet away from the very shop where my journey had begun all those years ago.

I felt like I had come home. Home to my true, authentic self.

I felt free. I could finally express myself. I could begin exploring my gifts and the spirituality I had shoved so deep down for so long. It was incredibly liberating.

Being in Salem is where I truly feel safe and at ease. I don’t know if it’s tied to the history there or simply the energy of the community, but it was a place where I felt included, welcomed, and accepted.

I was finally among my community of black sheep, if you will.

I began to peel back the layers of the person I had become to appease society and started to truly live as the person I felt I had been all along.

I got a job at a cute little witchy shop across the street, began tapping into my gifts with guidance from others, and picked up a deck of tarot cards for the first time since I was a teenager.

I no longer gave two flying fucks about what anyone thought of me or my spiritual journey. I started setting boundaries with people. Firm ones. I began sharing my gifts with my community and helping others explore their own spiritual journeys.

I got a gazillion tattoos and used them as an outward expression of who I was. I dressed in all black and finally allowed the person I had always been on the inside to show up on the outside.

I was finally able to be me.

It took addiction, sobriety, marriage, divorce, motherhood, and nearly a lifetime of giving too many fucks about what everyone else thought, but today I can finally say that I know exactly who I am.

This year, I will be 46, and I live my life as I choose, free from other people’s opinions and expectations.

Now, let me make something very clear: this has NOT been easy.

From that time in 2017 until now, I have become more versions of myself than I ever expected. I have been cast out by people I cared about. I have gone through major bouts of depression and anxiety. I have experienced extreme heartache and more upheaval than I have time to write about.

But I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.

Today, I have fully tapped into my gifts, my spirituality, my intuition, and everything that comes with embracing those parts of myself. Tarot has become a way for me to connect with my intuition and help others find clarity within themselves. Yoga has taught me how to come back to my body, slow down, breathe, and be present. Spirituality is no longer something I hide or feel the need to explain. It is simply part of who I am.

And am I completely healed, perfectly evolved, and walking around in some permanent state of enlightenment? Absolutely fucking not. I’m still human. I still struggle. I still question myself. I still have hard days, messy relationships, anxiety, fear, and moments when I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.

But there is one very important difference now.

I am free.

Free to trust my intuition. Free to explore what I believe. Free to dress how I want, cover myself in tattoos, pull tarot cards, practice yoga, connect with energy, and follow whatever path feels aligned with me. Free to change, grow, fuck up, start over, and become as many versions of myself as I need to.

Most importantly, I am free to be the person that 16-year-old girl walking into a witchy bookstore in Salem already knew she was.

It just took me a little while to find my way back to her.