Finding Hekate: From Fear to Devotion

They came from everything I had been taught about religion, darkness, witchcraft, and obedience before I ever even knew her.

I grew up with a fear-based understanding of Christianity.

And now I want to be clear that I am not saying every Christian tradition is harmful, nor am I saying every Christian experiences their faith the way that I did.

I am speaking about the church in which I was raised and the ideas that became embedded in me through that environment.

Religion was presented as a system of strict consequences.

You followed the rules, believed the correct things, and lived in the approved way, or you risked losing heaven and spending eternity in hell.

Love might have been discussed, but fear was often the force that kept everything in place.

Even after I left that framework, its architecture remained inside of me.

I could change the name of the deity, place crystals on an altar, light candles, and begin exploring witchcraft, but some part of me was still expecting religion to work the way it always had.

A higher power gave the rules, I tried desperately to follow them, and punishment waited if I failed.

I didn't yet understand that leaving a religion and deconstructing the beliefs that religion placed inside you are two very different processes.

One can happen in a moment while the other can take years.

Hollywood and Christian portrayals of witchcraft only added to the fear.

Darkness was evil.

Underworld deities were dangerous.

Spirits could not be trusted.

Powerful goddesses were either temptresses, demons, or forces waiting to consume the naive person foolish enough to call upon them.

Hecate seemed to embody every warning I had ever absorbed.

She was connected with witchcraft, crossroads, ghosts, the dead, night, magic, and thresholds.

To the person I was then, she looked less like a goddess who might guide me and more like the final boss of everything I had been taught to fear.

There was another reason I struggled to trust her.

and one that had very little to do with theology.

I had experienced abandonment from my birth mother, and I had survived sexual assaults and abusive relationships, many of which I've talked about in previous episodes.

I had learned through experience that people could claim to love me while still hurting me, leaving me, manipulating me, or using my vulnerability against me.

Some of the earliest lessons written into my nervous system were that love was conditional, that safety could vanish without warning, and that trust made me vulnerable to pain.

They came from everything I had been taught about religion, darkness, witchcraft, and obedience before I ever even knew her.

I grew up with a fear-based understanding of Christianity.

And now I want to be clear that I am not saying every Christian tradition is harmful, nor am I saying every Christian experiences their faith the way that I did.

I am speaking about the church in which I was raised and the ideas that became embedded in me through that environment.

Religion was presented as a system of strict consequences.

You followed the rules, believed the correct things, and lived in the approved way, or you risked losing heaven and spending eternity in hell.

Love might have been discussed, but fear was often the force that kept everything in place.

Even after I left that framework, its architecture remained inside of me.

I could change the name of the deity, place crystals on an altar, light candles, and begin exploring witchcraft, but some part of me was still expecting religion to work the way it always had.

A higher power gave the rules, I tried desperately to follow them, and punishment waited if I failed.

I didn't yet understand that leaving a religion and deconstructing the beliefs that religion placed inside you are two very different processes.

One can happen in a moment while the other can take years.

Hollywood and Christian portrayals of witchcraft only added to the fear.

Darkness was evil.

Underworld deities were dangerous.

Spirits could not be trusted.

Powerful goddesses were either temptresses, demons, or forces waiting to consume the naive person foolish enough to call upon them.

Hecate seemed to embody every warning I had ever absorbed.

She was connected with witchcraft, crossroads, ghosts, the dead, night, magic, and thresholds.

To the person I was then, she looked less like a goddess who might guide me and more like the final boss of everything I had been taught to fear.

There was another reason I struggled to trust her.

and one that had very little to do with theology.

I had experienced abandonment from my birth mother, and I had survived sexual assaults and abusive relationships, many of which I've talked about in previous episodes.

I had learned through experience that people could claim to love me while still hurting me, leaving me, manipulating me, or using my vulnerability against me.

Some of the earliest lessons written into my nervous system were that love was conditional, that safety could vanish without warning, and that trust made me vulnerable to pain.