Everyone has a relationship with money. Usually we can’t get enough of it. A funny thing begins to happen as you acquire more of it too: it slips through your fingers faster! That’s because you’re paying off debt acquired when you didn’t have it, are upgrading your equipment for the future when you expect not to have it, and in the end spend enough of it away to guarantee that you won’t have it in the present either. For me money has been much less about give and take as it is for most, and I’ve been frugal since the day I was born. I remember having a big pink plastic piggy bank with a curly rubber tail that I’d wind around my little fingertips while wondering how many pennies, dimes, nickels and quarters were shoved in there. How many more could I fit? Would I ever fill the jar? It was over a gallon in volume and fill it I did.
I was seven years old when I first started my first business. It wasn’t a lemonade stand—that sounded really stupid: sitting out in the sun next to a slowly warming pitcher of lemonade when even I had been ordered not to accept food from strangers. Oh, no. Of course it had to do with cleaning because I am and always have been extremely particular about organization. I called it, “Ave’s Household Cleaning” (except it was my name not my pen name!) and it was essentially an elegantly designed effort to get my parents to pay me for doing my own chores. By age twelve I had invoices. I had a logo. I had some bizarre system where I’d look at a room and decide how expensive it was going to be—and for some reason I claimed I charged off of square footage when I had no real ability to eyeball such a thing at such a young age so I actually did what any seven-year-old would do: I made things up. It sounded official enough, and my parents thought I was cute so they actually paid me what I asked for…and when they didn’t I got to learn how to negotiate, a skill that would take me far in the modern world when I fast forwarded a few decades to the present date where I am furiously collecting my purse onto my arm and turning my back on a company that has finally snapped my very last straw.
The walk in the snow felt strangely metaphorical since my emotions around this place could only be described as a solar flare. Even as I left the building I could feel the wrathful heat on my neck, and it didn’t leave until I had gotten far enough away from the structure that the literal scent of decay and humanity’s detriment was little more than a ghost in my nostrils. My mind was at a strange pace since it wanted to run and race ahead in part while the other lagged with a type of trance-like relief. I felt like a bicycle chain off of the right gear, and my thoughts kept crashing and colliding the entire quiet drive home. That drive was weird. I laughed a lot, I cried a little. I smashed my palm against the steering wheel and my knuckles whitened from the choking grip of my fingers when I switched lanes. My girlfriend was home at the time, and as I stood there in the kitchen looking at her, her expression draining with immediate anxiety over my surprising appearance and bizarre energy, I sighed and explained to her that I was never going back to that tomb, and I was never going to get myself into that situation again, that I already had a plan for finances and even though things might be a little tight while I figured out what I really wanted to do with my career path, we were taken care of and everything was going to be all right. For some reason I thought she'd freak out at my words, but instead she smiled. “Better,” she corrected me, and I could only nod at the truth in her perspective since she’d been trying to get me to quit for over a year for good reason.
I never thought I was going to be one of those people. I’ve never been as interested in having objects around me as I have been interested in being fully rich in skill and ability. I like being good at things. I work hard at being good at things. My lesser magic propelled me to the top of the company that I used to work for and I blinded myself to all consequence of it until suddenly I was getting MRIs, sleep disorder diagnoses, and all of the lovely things that came in between. I was hungry for it. It wasn’t only the money, it was wanting so badly to improve oneself to the extent that you really are the best of the best. The money was only a way for me to qualify my efforts and I will say I did a good job, especially when I compare my experience to the present-day lives of my friends and cousins.
It is critically important as a Satanist that you maintain self-awareness in all things. My job was a game for me and I won—but I may have broken my body to get there and thankfully I’m young enough that my body is healing. For a while I was blind to what I needed because I was addicted to success. I thought that if I were to give it up it would all be for nothing. In the end I realized that all I needed to do was to be happy with myself and have confidence in who I was as a person, and I didn’t need a fancy title to do that—my over-all happiness is more important than my compulsion to chase a solitary form of happiness that had been passed down to me through the generations in a pretty box called “The American Dream.” There are plenty of ways to be happy. If I had any single bit of advice to give to anyone, regardless of if they were Satanist or not, it would be this: maintain self-awareness. Maintain your perspective. It is a sin for a reason, and it’s a damned good one. If I could go back in time and take it back though? I'm not sure I would. That experience changed me as a person and enlightened me to a side of the world I was previously naïve toward, but I will say this: moving forward I am not stupid enough to repeat my mistakes and I hope you aren't either. Remember: indulgence, not compulsion, and always remember the 6th.
Who is the Witch?
Once I called myself a Christian, then an atheist, and a Satanist. At the end of the day, I'm just a person who is living her truth one day at a time. I'm interested in religion, its effects on the mind, the occult, and more. Learn more about me on the about page.