Witch, its been rough

Well, well, well… look who’s crawled out of the cauldron. That’s right, witches. I’m here. Still alive, still chaotic, and still pretending to have my life together while the world burns like a clearance rack pumpkin candle.

Oh, and in case you missed it… it was my birthday two days ago, which just so happened to fall on Mean Girls Day. Yep. October 3rd. The most fetch day of the year. When he asked me what day it was, I said… “It’s my birthday.” (Because obviously the universe had to align my existence with a cultural masterpiece.)

I’m currently in my “trying not to stress about things I can’t control” era. Which, let’s be real, is just code for barely holding it together but making it look like a lifestyle choice. Also, I’m still waiting on my blood test results from last week. At this point, I think the lab techs either lost it in another dimension or are running it through Hogwarts instead of Quest Diagnostics.

Anyway. I know I’ve been a bit of a ghost (the sparkly kind), and I really do need to get better at showing up here more often. I see you, my loyal subscribers, you magical creatures who somehow keep reading my ramblings. You’re the real potion that keeps this blog bubbling. Thank you for sticking around while I pretend adulthood isn’t just one long Mercury retrograde.

Now, because laughter is the ultimate protection spell, let’s revisit one of my most humbling moments — or, as I call it: The Time I Tried to Be a Beach Goddess and Got Body-Slammed by the Ocean.

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Picture it: Myrtle Beach. The sun was shining, seagulls screaming, and the kids were out there gliding across the waves on those cute little wake boards. I’d never seen them before, but they looked fun — and easy. (Famous last words.)

So naturally, I bought one. The next day, I strutted to the beach ready to live my surfer-girl fantasy. The confidence was high, the vibe was immaculate, and my SPF was pure delusion.

Then I spotted the perfect wave. I set the board down, jumped on… and promptly got yeeted backward like I was auditioning for an action movie. The board shot out from under me, I hit the sand so hard the entire beach gasped. Hundreds of people just staring in cinematic silence. My introvert soul left my body.

Meanwhile, my best friend? Fully losing it. Laughing so hard she sounded like a possessed seagull.

I got up, pretending I was fine, but my leg was screaming. Turns out, I had literal shell burn, complete with seashells embedded in my skin. Cute. Beachcore, but make it tragic.

Did I laugh? Eventually. Was I mortified? Instantly. Did I ever get back on one of those boards? Absolutely not. The ocean and I are on “we don’t talk about it” terms now.

Lesson learned: try new things — but maybe cast a confidence spell first. And maybe don’t do it in front of a live audience.

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So, to anyone going through it right now, hang in there witches. You’ve survived every bad day so far, which means you’re basically unstoppable.

People tell me my blog gives them hope — that my chaos, humor, and occasional near-death beach experiences help them see their own messes differently. That means more to me than you know.

You can’t rewrite the past (trust me, I’ve tried), but you can enchant how you respond to it. Laugh at the chaos, breathe through the storm, and never forget … on Wednesdays, we wear black. 🖤