The Slot Machine of Sorrow

Lately, and especially after speaking to friends in my esoteric circles, I’ve been forced to admit that my spirituality is perfectly designed to produce the results I’m getting and that those results are not what I want. Sitting with this truth has been eye-opening. It’s made me take a long, unflinching look at the problem my spirituality is meant to solve, the wounds it tries to soothe, and the axioms I’ve unconsciously lived by. At the core, I reject nihilism. It has never sat right with me. I need life to have meaning, not just in an abstract intellectual way, but in how I relate to nature, the unseen, and other people. Spirituality has been my compass, a set of principles to help me navigate the world in a way that feels aligned and purposeful. But beneath that ideal, I can see the wound that fuels my devotion: a deep, lifelong loneliness. I have always felt misunderstood, dismissed, and unappreciated. And I mean ALWAYS. The kind of isolation that makes the idea of unconditional love from unseen beings irresistible. Spirituality promised that there were entities who already saw me as perfect and whole. I wanted to believe that completely.

The Lost and Naive

Along the way, I also gained tools I couldn’t find anywhere else. Tarot, for example, has been great especially when reading for others. It helps me cut to the point, see what matters most in the moment, and offer clarity. But I’ve realized that when I turn these tools on myself, the results are murkier, as if my own emotional intensity distorts the signal or breeds paranoia. One of the hardest truths to face is how much I’ve built my practice around romance, myth, and “special destiny” narratives, that are extremely predominant these days thanks to reddit and Tiktok "occulture", where the lonely practitioner thrives trying to find their supernatural "happily ever after". And I don't say this to be mean, I really do feel for all of us. But these frameworks, especially the godspouse culture online that has risen in popularity, can feel intoxicating, offering the fantasy of being chosen by an idealized being beyond any human we've met. For a time, I took these narratives as pointers, not as possibilities to explore, but as truths to live by. The result was immense pain and confusion. I’ve never truly tried a form of spirituality stripped of these sugary perks. I’m curious now what that would look like and how it would change me.

Toxic Patterns on Loop

When I look at the unspoken rules that have governed my practice, I see how many came from outside influences: the idea that neglect is just a divine “test” (from friends and people that have done readings on me), that a spirit is whoever they claim to be (from community attitudes), that gods are always Good and above human accountability (from Hermetic teachings), or that lack of results means I’m not working hard enough (from trauma, culture, and mentors). Others came directly from my upbringing, like the belief that my feelings are “too much” and will scare deities away. Almost all of these rules, I now see, keep me stuck. If my spiritual system were a business, the product it delivers would be anxiety, paranoia, obligation, and occasional clarity only when I’m serving others, but never myself. This “business“ has so far worked like a Casino Slot Machine. Highly unpredictable, tons of anxiety, very intermittent ecstatic moments that keep you hooked, but kind of irresponsible and wasteful. I want a different product: temperance, balanced emotions, trust in the universe, a sense that someone has my back, motivation for my art, and the wisdom to help others without losing myself. Neither the self-deprecation of traditional Abrahamic religions nor the vagueness and "anything goes" of modern DIY occulture sound very convincing to me at the moment. Not for my fractured worth.

 My North Star is non-negotiable: my worth. If a spirit ever makes me feel unworthy of love and appreciation, they can go. Full stop. The whole point of spirituality, to me, is to remember that we are sacred and that only happens through holy self-love. I refuse to give that up. This has led me to define boundaries I once didn’t think I could have:

No flirting from spirits, no unjustified abandonment, no vagueness, no tricks, no manipulation. I’ve also set boundaries for myself:

My health comes first, my human relationships come first, and sacrifice is over. I think sacrifice is such a stupid concept when being human, having a body (or as I call it, the torture chamber) is sacrifice enough.

The Winged Elephant in The Room

And yet, even with these boundaries in place, I feel the pull of the attachments I’ve built especially with Hermes. And yes I will namedrop him hard and talk about things I haven't publicly admitted. He is woven into my physical world: wings tattooed on my ankles, one of his epithets on my license plate, a $500 bronze statue in my home. Letting him go would not just be ending a relationship, it would be changing the scaffolding of my life. This makes the choice between banishing or keeping him on a leash almost unbearable. For now, I’ve decided not to make a decision. Instead, I’ll trust my gut (something I haven’t done in a long time) and let that guide me forward. I am not going to lie about how angry I am. He was the first spirit who ever introduced himself to me by name. The one I have been trusting for years. I have so many memories attached to him. So much time and effort spent. So many people that were learning from me by proxy potentially were also led astray. And there is nothing I can do about them. Not really. The damage is tremendous. Very little things in my life have left me this shaken. 

Anyhow, this reflection is not my new system. It’s a snapshot. A map of where I am today. I can see clearly that I’ve been running on a model built from other people’s axioms and my own unmet needs. I can also see that I’ve now drawn some firm, healthy lines in the sand. The next step is not to rush into tearing it all down or rebuilding overnight, but to keep listening to my own instincts, testing what’s real, and choosing what makes sense in the hearth of my heart.