By Julie Sottek • Photos by Michelle McLemore
She called me a witch. Not as an insult flung in fear, my worst fear, but with energy that sang high off her tongue. The energy of wisdom, healing, nature, earth magic—deep connections in wisdom ritual and community—all the things I was longing for in my every day and had only been able to catch glimpses.
I automatically slunk away in denial with my shoulders at my ears, attempting to shrink into myself—a pattern I had perfected over many years. I took that step away but stopped and turned. I don’t know why, but I took a chance, a chance to finally be seen by those around me. My shoulders eased down a bit, and I stepped back to the table, stood before her, and chose to embrace my magic.
This happened at a large psychic fair. My secret weekend pleasure far away from my other life—my “normal” life as a special education teacher. I didn’t share with my co-workers my experiences talking to crystals and to the dead—that would surely raise eyebrows at staff meetings. They didn’t know I had placed Reiki symbols in the corners of my classroom, or that I was clearing away the heavy energy in the room with my hands under the table. I had perfected subtlety. But here I was, purchasing this most heavenly magical candle and swapping stories with the vendor when she addressed me in the manner that she addressed every magical person she met. It shocked my system. It was also my soul reminder. She planted a seed. I decided it was time to let it grow.
My hesitation was never about being called a witch—it was recognition and exposure. Witches were hunted and killed. They were hung, drowned, burned or, worse in my mind, rejected. My greatest fear was being discovered.
My earliest magical moment fear was at Girl Scout camp in elementary school. We were playing a game of two sticks—one stick is longer than the other and the guesser is to decide which hand is holding the longer stick when presented to them. I was the guesser paired with a competitive partner. She wanted to win and was very strategic in her concealment. That made her energy easier for me to predict. Added to the mix was the building frenzy of the other young girls as I won round after round. The first five correct guesses I made were acceptable, but as the number crept closer to 10, I felt uneasy. At around 12 correct guesses, I felt the others start to question—the feeling grew along the edges of our group and then crept into the inner circle, but it wasn’t coming from my peers. I glanced around at the moms and recognized the questioning laced with a bit of fear. I was pushing past statistical luck. I purposefully lost the next try and slunk back into obscurity, losing quickly on my next round.
I had spent years of calculated denial, wrapping myself in a camouflage of normality, only to be exposed by this stranger living her best life. What had she seen? I knew even then what I was, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for others to know. I am the person who walks into a room and gravitates to the saddest person. I naturally lighten the mood in a crowd. I am the person who knows who is on the other end of the phone way before Caller ID became standard. I am the person who has seashells and rocks collected in bowls and antique dishes scattered around my home. I go to church. I pray to God. I trained in Usui & Holy Fire Reiki because I channel the love healing of God and Jesus. I thought all this made me a normal, acceptable, good person. I felt comfortable openly expressing that side of me, but I also had my hidden magical side…the side I could not pretty up.
I am the person who flickers the lights and turns the computer screen black when having an off day. I am the person who unconsciously takes a deep sigh expanding her boundary bubble. When standing next to me, you might feel warmth or an energetic shove, depending on which is needed. I dream of the dead. They come to visit me in vivid dreams that feel real and give me comfort. I hear vibrational voices from rocks and shells—snippets of songs and vibrations that become an inner knowing.
This conflict of holding my life in rigid conformity was affecting my health and I couldn’t deny myself any longer. I had unconsciously placed myself in larger rooms, with the saddest people, working to lighten their mood. I had learned along the way to ignore my inner knowing and overwhelmed soul. I had been working at a center-based program of sad children, sad families, and sad co-workers. My secret weekends of teaching Usui Reiki, making crystal jewelry, and hanging out with psychics could only fill me up for so long. I was also facing the physical and emotional challenges of failed infertility treatments. The insecurity of weight gain was simply annoying. The medications combining with untrained empathic abilities triggered unexplained panic attacks. This greater unexplained knowing made me more anxious of exposure. I was trying to live smaller while being pushed to expand.
I was at a crossroads. I could continue to deny who I was, remain weak and sick, or embrace my true self, discarding the comfort I felt with the label others tried to place on me. I wasn’t ready to fully embrace the title of witch, but I was ready to consciously blend my gifts seamlessly into my life.
The thing about starting at rock bottom when you are an empath is you no longer have the desire to focus on other people’s need to feel comfort and will focus on your own. I had already moved laterally in my job teaching students with cognitive impairment and autism. Happier students, happier families, but still sad co-workers. I raised a few eyebrows the first time I placed a basket full of crystals to facilitate cooperation and communication under my chair at our staff meetings. They must have been recognized as necessary because when I forgot once, my supervisor quietly reminded me to go back and get them.
I began receiving surprise gifts from my students in the form of crystal chips piling up in a dish on my desk—unusable ones sorted from our jewelry making. (After retiring, I carried them home where they are now reused in my fairy house.) Because my students knew I liked “big rocks,” a ring of tumbled rocks steadily grew in the classroom. A crow feather appeared because another knew I would like it.
I was given the opportunity to teach one overwhelmed non-verbal student to focus his energy flow and guide it to his feet instead of painfully squeezing my hands. When I explained to his mom what we discovered, her curiosity about energy techniques to help him led to her becoming a tai chi instructor. My staff and students even threw me a chakra-themed retirement party. We played “Place the Chakra on the Buddha.” They gave me a beautiful smokey quartz and the monetary gift from the union paid my shamanic apprenticeship deposit.
These were just a few of the opportunities I would have missed if I had chosen to keep hiding. The best part was that I learned to no longer worry about what others choose to call me. Being recognized for your gifts makes them all the more magical.
Julie Sottek is a Reiki Master, Shamanic Practitioner, End of Life Doula, and nature communicator with her friends, sticks (pure plant extracts) and stones (crystals). She supports her clients through transformational Shamanic Reiki sessions, Reiki instruction, and Shamanic Apprenticeships. She resides in Jackson County with her husband and cat, Sir Lavender. Learn more online at myeventcafe.com/portal/dragonflydreams.
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I had spent years of calculated denial, wrapping myself in a camouflage of normality, only to be exposed by this stranger living her best life. What had she seen? I knew even then what I was, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for others to know. I am the person who walks into a room and gravitates to the saddest person. I naturally lighten the mood in a crowd. I am the person who knows who is on the other end of the phone way before Caller ID became standard. I am the person who has seashells and rocks collected in bowls and antique dishes scattered around my home.