For years, I carried words that didn’t quite belong to me. Bipolar. Borderline. They were the labels handed down by professionals who tried to explain why my moods seemed to rise and crash, why my energy came in tidal waves, and why I felt things so deeply. I lived under those diagnoses, trying to reconcile myself to them, but deep inside, they never fully fit.
When I look back at my old blog, Confessions of a Modern Witch, I see the evidence of my struggle written in real time.
In Embrace the Sparkle #7, I wrote about memory slips and forgetfulness:
“Over the last year or so I have started to notice that I just can’t remember things like I used to. I forget what I’m going to the store for… when I’m feeling a bit more manic than usual.”
At the time, I thought this was part of mania. Now I understand it as classic executive functioning struggles — very common in ADHD and autism.
In The Bipolar Mind – A Different Way of Thinking, I admitted my need for constant stimulation:
“I need to keep my mind busy. I needed projects and notepads and more more more … but society told me this was wrong.”
What I once labeled dangerous restlessness, I now see as hyperfocus and divergent thinking. My brain thrives on multiple projects. That isn’t a flaw — it’s a feature.
In Bipolar Awareness — Embrace the Sparkle 2, I described long nights of rumination:
“Last night I woke at 1:30 am … mind racing until after 4:00 am … reviewing the events of the day … what did I do wrong … what did I do right … should I do something different…”
That wasn’t mania. That was my neurodivergent brain stuck in a loop — autistic processing that doesn’t shut off when the body is begging for rest.
And in Being Bipolar isn’t the End of the World, I shared how my husband helped me manage:
“He takes me for walks … to help me center, or even sometimes take me to the loudest place … to help my mind devour all the chaos it can.”
What we thought was about calming mania was actually about sensory regulation — walking, grounding, and using external stimulation to give my brain somewhere safe to settle.
Slowly, the truth emerged. The labels never explained the whole picture, but discovering ADHD, AuADHD, and dyslexia reframed everything. I wasn’t broken. My brain was simply wired differently. What I had been taught to view as symptoms of an “illness” were survival strategies, sensitivities, and ways of thinking that don’t always fit a neurotypical world.
Reframing my past has been liberating. What I once saw as shameful or destructive now looks like part of my natural wiring. Instead of asking, “How do I fix this?” I began asking, “How do I honor this?”
That shift changed everything. It allowed me to build systems, embrace creativity, and treat myself with compassion. It also made me realize how many others may be carrying labels that don’t fit.
Through this site, I bring this truth into my work. My oracle decks, classes, and sound healing are not polished despite my neurodivergence — they are born from it. Hecate, goddess of thresholds, has guided me through this crossing: from misdiagnosis to clarity, from shame to understanding.
I share this because I know I’m not alone. If you’ve been told you are too much, too sensitive, too scattered — know this: you are not broken.
Every purchase from By Her Fires supports not only this work but also my monthly donations to the Blessing Box of Goldsboro, filling local boxes with food and care items for neighbors in need. Together, we honor compassion in both ritual and action. Check out my shop and help support my mission.
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