Up until now I’ve kept my substack mostly non-personal, not really delving into anything regarding myself and my own experiences regarding the spirit and psyche. Lately however, after speaking with others, I have felt compelled to tell my testimony and where I’m at today in my spiritual journey. I understand that given the controversial nature of this subject, the response will be understandably mixed..but my hope is that it reaches and inspires those who are open-minded. So brace yourselves, this is going to be a wild ride!
To begin with, despite being Irish and hence living in a very Catholic centered country, I did not grow up in a religious household. There was no Holy Communion, Confirmation, or Mass on Sundays. Christmas and Easter had nothing to do with Jesus and were solely for presents and chocolates. Sure I went to a Christian school, but I couldn't relate to the idea of a man in the sky looking down on me and seemingly judging me for all that I do.
However, despite not having a religious background, my family and I were deeply spiritual.
My mother was a big believer in reincarnation, and my eldest sister was a practitioner of reiki. I remember being eleven years old and performing in the school play and her giving me my very first crystal to help me with stage fright.
Growing up, I always felt more drawn to the spiritual side of things, but it wasn’t until I was in my early twenties that I really started to get deep into occult spirituality.
Like most young girls in their twenties, I was carrying a mountain of trauma from childhood and past relationships. I drank and smoked too much, struggled with self-harm, and felt like I had no control over my life.
I also experienced what every girl goes through who spent their school years as an ugly duckling before blossoming in college - a craving for validation coupled with attention from the wrong types of men. All these experiences combined pushed me in the direction of perhaps what is framed to be the most empowering form of spirituality for women: witchcraft.
Having grown up watching TV shows like Charmed and Buffy, I loved the allure of the supernatural. In my early twenties, I started delving deep into Wicca, before settling on calling myself an eclectic witch.
There was something so empowering yet taboo about witchcraft that I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.
I joined online witch communities and learned elaborate rituals and spells.
For the first time in my life, I finally felt I had control
I'd pride myself on filling up my grimoire with magickal incantations for money, love and success. I couldn’t believe how well it worked! For the first time in my life, I felt powerful and like I had control. There was something so very powerful about feeling like I had autonomy over my life, my choices, and nothing could shake me. I was also drawn into the part of witchcraft that celebrated the ‘divine feminine’, which seemed in direct opposition to what I believed to be the patriarchal, oppressive nature of religion.
But then I’d notice out of the blue, a spell would backfire badly or dramatically stop working, and never work again no matter how many times I cast it. I couldn’t understand. I was doing everything right, why wasn’t it working?
I also had spells that seemingly never worked at all. Why was it that a love spell would get me the attention I wanted, but a healing spell would fail and I had to watch my sister’s dog die? There didn’t seem any reason to it. . (Spoiler: I wasn't really the one in control at all)
Still I persisted with witchcraft because I loved it so much.
By the time I moved to Wexford, I had amassed a huge collection of tarot and oracle cards, coloured candles and a chest full of magickal herbs.
After I moved house, I was unpacking my things when I came across my old grimoire. This was a book that I had used many times during rituals, where I would often open and close circles and invoke deities to help me with my spellwork. When I picked it up, I was overcome with a wave of nausea and felt like I was going to be sick. I also had a pounding headache. It felt like every last bit of energy had been drained from my body. I recognised this feeling, I often got it after doing intense magick and not grounding myself properly. I would also describe it as akin to the feeling of being on a computer too long, a form of EMF sickness. It’s also a very similar energy to what people describe feeling around cursed objects. So this was me very clearly picking up on some BAD energy from my grimoire.
I fell out of practicing my craft for a while. Though I could say in part it could have been because of the energy I was feeling from my grimoire, I was already quite content on not using it during spellwork as most of my knowledge had become innate. I just naturally shifted my focus to reading tarot and oracle cards. I often did readings for other people over the years, and loved combining tarot and astrology.
There was a particular deck that I had wanted for the longest time, a deck called The Romance Angels by Doreen Virtue.
Doreen Virtue, of course, was a famous New Age speaker and creator of multiple oracle card decks, who later went on to become a Christian and denounce everything to do with her past work. She has completely cut ties with Hay House, who used to publish her cards, and claims that the spirits she was ‘channelling’ whilst creating these cards are actually demons…
Now, when I first heard of Doreen Virtue’s claims a couple of years back, I thought she had gone crazy and somehow been indoctrinated into a religious cult. I couldn’t believe that she would turn away from a business that had not only been immensely profitable to her, but had changed people’s lives for the better.
I really wanted her Romance Angel cards, however they had been out of print for a long time. Then one day I come across them on Temu, though clearly counterfeit. Sites like Temu and Shein are notorious for counterfeiting tarot and oracle card decks.
After a little bit of deliberation, I somehow justified purchasing it by telling myself that Doreen wouldn’t be missing out on any money since these cards had been out of print for years. What a mistake I made.
I waited eagerly for the cards to arrive and could hardly contain myself when the package arrived at my front door. Even though they were flimsy, on cheap card stock and didn’t come with an instruction booklet, I loved them. That night, after playing with my new cards, I went to bed as usual.
It was to be one of the most terrifying nights of my life.
I genuinely felt, in that moment, I was going to die
I had had sleep paralysis the odd time before, but nothing could prepare me for what I experienced that night. Unlike usual sleep paralysis - where one’s eyes are open but body is still asleep, hence paralysed and having hallucinations of ghostly figures, sounds and sensations - everything was black. I mean pitch black, not just a dark room. I could not see a thing, but I could have sworn my eyes were open. That’s when I felt something sitting on my chest. Whatever it was then tried to suffocate me. It was the sensation of having a pillow over my face and I could not breathe at all. I tried to scream, to shout, nothing came out. That’s when I tried to recite the Lord’s prayer. This was something my brain often would default to during nightmares and sleep paralysis, likely because I remembered it from going to a Christian school. You’d never have found me reciting it outside of a dream.
As I started trying to recite the prayer, I could not get the words out. Whatever was suffocating me became frantic to suffocate me harder, the more I tried to pray. I genuinely felt, in that moment, that I was going to die.
I can’t remember whether I finished the prayer, or called on Jesus, but I was eventually set free and woke up. By this time it was morning, and all I could feel was pure terror. It wasn’t like the fear you feel after a nightmare, which dissapears in a few minutes or so. This was something entirely different. I felt that whatever it was that attacked me was still present in the room with me. .
This feeling did not go, for the entire day. My sister commented how odd I was behaving, as I would jump at every little noise. I constantly felt on edge and fearful. Even after I saged the room, I still felt awful.
The feeling that lingered was so darkly powerful and profound, that I went online and ordered a Bible that day. Why? It seems strange to me now, as I clearly didn’t believe in God or religion, but I knew I needed something to protect me from whatever I had just experienced. This was not just typical sleep paralysis. This felt more akin to a near-death experience in the form of spiritual attack. And I figured if religious items work for exorcisms, they’d work for me, right? I never touched the cards again, though it would take some time before I plucked up the courage to throw them away.
After that experience, I noticed my mood tanked. It was like a cloud of depression had simply consumed me. I always felt sad, was plagued by insecurity and self-doubt, guilty over little things, and no matter how much sage cleansing I did, nothing seemed to shift my energy. Then my health began to decline, along with a string of bad luck. I caught severe covid and ended up suffering injury from medical negligence. Any time I felt like I was turning a corner, everything would suddenly come crashing down around me.
Desperate, I reached out to a reputable witch I knew on Instagram, who performed a healing and cleansing spell on me. I still thought witchcraft was the answer to my problems. After her spell, that’s when things got even worse. I lost count of the amount of times I ended up in A&E.
During this time, my Bible sat like a prop on my bedside locker. I slept with it beside me as if it was some kind of magickal talisman that was supposed to protect me from night terrors, despite me not believing in it. Once or twice I’d pick it up, and notice I’d feel what felt like a cold wind in front of me. Having grown up in a haunted house (that’s a story for another time) I was familiar with this sensation and knew that I was in the presence of some sort of spirit. But I didn’t think it was God himself. That was, until I truly felt Him.
I remember the first time it happened. I was sitting in bed and was flicking through the pages when all of a sudden I was overcome with this wave of happiness. It was a level of euphoria that you simply would not believe, like all your birthdays and Christmases had been rolled into one moment where your heart is so full that it feels like it could burst. Confused, I sat there and wondered what on earth had just happened, as the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came. I did not experience this again until a year or so later. This time, I had decided to try and spiritually contact a friend of mine who had passed away. I called upon my guides, angels and Jesus Christ himself to protect me during this encounter, not thinking anything of it. That’s when I felt it again. The most incredible beautiful feeling of pure bliss that just flowed right through me.
But what would this mean if I was to fully believe? It would mean to go against everything I have ever believed in my entire life.
Still, this was not enough to fully convince me. Some might say that those of us who have been deep in occult spirituality are even harder to convince than atheists. But the experiences kept happening, and they kept growing in strength until one time it only took seeing a picture of Jesus Christ on Instagram for it to hit me, and to hit me with such strength that I started to cry.
After doing much research, I come to find many people who have experienced these exact same phenomenon - euphoria, weeping - and that it is, apparently, the Holy Spirit.
Ok..so I wasn’t going insane. BUT…what would this mean if I was to fully believe? It would mean to go against everything I have ever believed in my entire life. The thought terrified me.
Then one day something even more miraculous happens. My sister, whose car had broken down, decided to go on a 2 mile walk into the nearest town which, in hindsight, she didn't understand why as she remembers she didn’t have a specific purpose in mind. Whilst in town, she is approached by a lady on the street. She happens to be a Christian missionary, and asks my sister if anyone in our family needs prayers, and she told her that yes, I do as I am chronically ill. The missionary then, in accurate detail and in her words as guided by Jesus, was able to describe every ailment I was dealing with and prayed for me. These ailments were not something she could have easily guessed.
When my sister came home and told me, I was shocked. It was the confirmation I needed. He is real..and he knows me. He had been trying to reach me this whole time.
And that’s when things really clicked for me. I decided it was time to cut ties with magick for good. I even reached out to an old witch who had performed a ‘love spell’ on someone from my past and asked her to undo it because I wanted a ‘fresh start’ on a new spiritual path. I wasn’t a Christian yet, but I was more open than ever. I now realise, however, that getting a witch to undo a spell was still partaking in witchcraft and what I really needed was spiritual deliverance. I was also still watching videos from my favourite YouTube psychic. She had recently posted about how one of her viewers was going to meet someone, in an unusual setting. “Not a conventional place like a book store or a café. No, for some reason I keep getting the word ‘hospital’,” she said. She also said the person would be an alcoholic going through some sort of detox. I discounted the message as not for me.
Anyway, within 3 days of the witch reversing the past love spell for me, I end up in A&E. Again. Of course. But something felt different about this time. I end up in the waiting room sitting in the only available seat left, next to a young man my age. We got chatting, after he caught my name on my hospital band. Conversations between us flowed like a smooth stream, and by the time night had passed and the sun had began to rise, we were giggling like school children in that fluorescent-lit room, inventing inside jokes like we’d known each other years. Many assumed we had come in together. I found out he was a recovering alcoholic (!) with an abusive upbringing, who had relapsed that night after an altercation with his father. We exchanged numbers and replicated that night through endless phone calls, which had me laughing more than I ever had in years. I thought it was fate, truly.
But the darkness around him was intensely heavy. It wasn’t just addiction. It was a lineage, of generational trauma, of criminality and violence. A family name featured in newspapers, of allegations from exes, of multiple head traumas. As our connection progressed over the months, so too did the cracks. His possesiveness grew, insecurities clawing at the surface. His words became inconsistent and his actions more erratic. It became deeply toxic, and I began to realise I was dealing with someone that was more than just a bit broken, but deeply psychologically disordered.
I realised that if I did not find a way out of this, I would be putting myself in serious harm’s way. I was scared of the repercussions, but I tried to take space for myself amidst the realisation that the charming person I had fallen for in the beginning had so much darkness inside of him. As a result of this, he punished me by completely replacing me with another and doing everything in his power to hurt me. But it didn’t work. I saw it coming, I knew this was a test. I thought back to the love spell I had ‘undone’ on another, the psychic’s prophetic words…how I had met him less than a week after. Witchcraft had sent this man to me. An energetic vacuum had opened and the enemy had swept in. I knew, then in my heart of hearts, that it would be Jesus that would release him from me.
At this time, I could no longer practice magick in any form as any time I did, I was plagued by spiritual attacks. Before, in all my years of practicing, I had only had one or two negative experiences, but now if I so much as touched my old witchcraft supplies, I would be plagued by night terrors. It was like for the first time the spirits I had unknowingly communed with were showing themselves to be who they always were. I then realised just how huge the difference was between the sick, nauseous feeling I had had whilst holding my grimoire, and the feeling of pure peace, love and joy that struck me at times when holding the Bible.
How people had told me that after interacting with me, that they would experience horrific sleep paralysis. Whatever was attached to me was attacking others on the astral plane.
The amount of doors I had unintentionally opened was so disturbing to me.
But so much of it makes sense. When we practice witchcraft, we are focused on attaining earthly desires. It also makes perfect sense why love spells are notorious for backfiring, with targets often becoming obsessive violent stalkers. When love is the highest vibration that is, and it’s being manipulated through spellwork for our own selfish will. And don’t even get me started on hexes and curses…
Equipped with new knowledge but feeling incredibly confused and afraid at the same time, I reached out the missionary my sister had met. “Emma,” she told me, “I remember your sister. The Lord put you on my heart only this week. I’d love to meet you and pray over you in person.”
The night before I was due to meet her, I felt overwhelmed by disbelief. God isn’t real and he certainly didn’t come in the form of Jesus Christ, I told myself. What a stupid idea. That’s when I felt compelled to research spiritual warfare - I had heard about the enemy planting seeds of doubt, and out of curiosity I wanted to see what was said about it. Before I could even Google, I got a follow request on Instagram from a random man I didn’t know. I had no idea how he had found me, as we had no mutual friends in common. I checked out his Instagram page and that’s when I see in his bio: Ephesians 6: 12- 13
2 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
13 Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand.
Suddenly, my belief in Him was once again solidified. I went ahead with the meeting the next day.
Through meeting the missionary, I learned about her personal testimony and amazingly, so much of it paralleled my own. Despite attending Bible college after her conversion, she was not part of any denomination, but rather had a relationship with Christ. She then channelled his word, and told me in very strict terms “He saved you Emma. You had no idea but he has been there, on the outside the whole time protecting you. He has allowed you to feel those moments of inexplicable joy when interacting with the Bible because he needed to reach you, to allow you to experience His divine love so you may come to know Him. I am never usually this serious, and I would never want anyone to be fearful but I cannot deny his word: He is telling me very clearly, that if he had not come into your life at this time, you would be dead. The enemy was determined to destroy you. ”
That struck me. And yet it made total sense. Ever since I was first spiritually attacked and got ill, I had been on a downhill trajectory and had many moments where I thought of ending it all. Meeting the man in A&E had felt like a saving grace, only for it to become deeply spiritually dark. She then prayed for me, placing her hand on my back. It had been sunny that day, but by this time it was late afternoon and I found I was quite cold. So cold, in fact that I was shivering, despite being given a jacket. We sat down together at the foot of a cross outside of the church. As she prayed for me, about midway through, I wasn’t cold anymore. My body felt a perfect room temperature, and I was able to remove the jacket.
When I got home and went to bed that night, I found that I would drift off before being woken up by a scary face jumping out at me, or visions of black crows encircling me. I listened to an Archangel Michael deliverance prayer, and they abruptly stopped and I was finally able to get to sleep. I knew that the enemy was trying to attack me and this was the beginning of the spiritual warfare ramping up.
I was instructed to throw out all my occult items. I gathered them all together the next day, but had moments of doubt and worry. Was I doing the right thing? Maybe there’s a logical explanation to all this..I love my tarot cards, I can’t part with them. I don’t want to get rid of my grimoire, I’m scared… so many thoughts running through my head.
Trying to ground myself with some calming music, I turned to my phone when I saw atop my screen a notification from a Bible app I had downloaded: “Do not be afraid” it read. “Reflect on today’s verse: Matthew 6: 19-24”.
19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
22 “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy,[a] your whole body will be full of light. 23 But if your eyes are unhealthy,[b] your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!
24 “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other.
With vanishing hesitation, I shredded all my books and cards, threw out every occult item (praying over them and covering them in blessed salt and Holy water) and finally ended on a self-deliverance prayer. Immediately, I felt lighter. This was it. This was the beginning of a fresh start, there was no going back now.
In the days that followed, I continued to come across more occult items hidden in my home. Most notably, the original case for the Romance Angels oracle card deck, the very deck that had ‘cursed’ me, hidden under my bed. It was not until I had discarded everything, that the cold feeling I had always felt around me whenever I read my Bible, completely disappeared. I never felt it again.
I began to draw closer to God and to his Word. The toxic man I had met in A&E was completely ripped out of my life, after a parting exchange where I told him to not bite the hand that fed him. Coincidentally - though I don’t believe there are coincidences in this life - this exchange occurred on Spy Wednesday, the very day that Judas betrayed Jesus.
I may not be 100% yet, but I know that everything that has occurred in the last hellish year of my life has brought me closer to Him, and that I may have never had met Him if I hadn’t gone through the immense spiritual, physical and mental suffering that I have. And for that reason I am so eternally grateful for the experiences I have had. It has taken me some time to come to terms with what I have experienced and the feelings I now have towards what I used to think was just another man-made religion. The religion I could not stand, for it seemed responsible for so much death and destruction, but I now realise those who murdered under Christianity were never true believers in Christ. Christ is divine love, mercy and protection. He was looking out for me when I wasn’t even seeking Him, and that says so much. Jesus turns his back on nobody, no matter how much you have fallen away. One need only see who he chose as his disciples to understand.
My hope is that by sharing my testimony with you is that maybe you can relate in some way and open up your own heart to His blessings. Sometimes all it takes is an open mind. Unfortunately though for most, it takes metaphorically being to Hell and back. Even if you are not yet a believer, if I can turn just one person away from the occult, my work is done. I do hope truly however that anyone who reads this will some day get to experience the divine love and mercy that comes with being in His presence ❤️
