The Moon is my Mother

Photo by Ahsan Avi on Unsplash

One of the hardest things I’ve had to admit to myself recently is that I’ve lost touch with my spirituality. I remember as a senior in high school, I would go on walks at night with my dog. I would look up at the moon and feel something. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but whatever it was, it was God to me. A maternal, protective, gentle, powerful entity. I would always think and talk about the stars and how they were looking out for me, how they knew where I was going to end up.

I lost this. Somewhere along the way of loving others more than I loved myself, I became distant from the side of myself that felt connected to something, anything. I no longer looked up at the sky for the hell of it, but only in moments of desperation, wondering why certain things were happening to me. Now that I’m in college, I don’t go for walks at night. I don’t feel the presence of something bigger within me.

But I want it back. And slowly, I know I’ll start to feel a return of this side of myself, a return of the moon as my mother. (Shoutout to my human mom for being awesome too lol.) I’ve been doing little things to try to reconnect, like carrying my purple amethyst heart in my pocket, looking up at the sky more, asking for signs, stretching before bed, and just slowing down. Of course there’s always room for improvement, but something I used to hold on to was the fact that no matter where I was or what I was doing, my God loved me. This God is not an entity that has been distorted by men and organized religion. She is pure, and she is mine, and she is in everything.

If you’re having similar struggles, know you’re not alone. Follow along with my journey and let’s heal together.

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