My life was a disaster.
I struggled mightily with alcoholism, drug abuse, and suicidal thoughts throughout my teens and 20s…
…and every single day was a ride on the roller coaster of drama.
I felt romantically doomed—
every relationship ended in flames and ashes, and even when I was temporarily coupled up…
…my “happiness” was skating on a thin veneer of jealous paranoia and deep-rooted fears of rejection…
…which I then tried to numb with drugs, alcohol, compulsive eating, binge shopping (hello, credit card debt) and anything else I could overindulge in.
I hated my own thoughts, which felt like an ever-present reminder of how I’d never be whole, good enough, or even remotely relaxed in my own skin.
When I look back at those years…
it’s sometimes hard to believe that I am where I am now.
I’ve been with my incredible husband for 13 years and counting, and I still get excited when I hear his keys in the lock every evening.
I’m not staring at the ceiling at 3am, sweating over how I’m going to scrape together enough rent money this month.
I’m fortunate to do work that I can’t wait to get out of bed for, work that has me happily scribbling in ratty notebooks, surrounded by Post-it Notes and piles of dogeared books, soul on fire with ideas.
And my own mind no longer feels like my arch nemesis—
I genuinely love my own company and carve out plenty of time to simply be with my thoughts.
A key player in subduing the flames of the raging dumpster fire that was my life is C.G. Jung.
His writings, while initially incomprehensible to me, have become a well-thumbed companion on my journey.
And they’ve inspired the work I do now: Jungian Magic.
His writings transformed my inner world from what felt like a rigged game of Minecraft to a source of rich inspiration and a deep connection to something greater than myself.
Today, on Jung’s birthday, I want to honor his life and work.
There were times when Jung believed he was losing his sanity during his explorations into the unconscious.
Yet he continued, amidst troubling visions, quaking self-doubt, and fears of his psyche’s unraveling.
He continued to make time for his dreams, his meditations, and his journaling.
He asked deeply uncomfortable questions about his identity, his beliefs, and everything his ego held most dear.
And he took the time (so much time!) to capture his explorations in writing, creating a lifeline for me when times were very dark, indeed.
So today, I offer this altar, a symbol of my gratitude.
A reminder, every time I walk into the room, of one who has walked before me…
…whose work is a lantern, glinting in the dark forests of the unconscious, beckoning me onward.
Inviting me to know myself more deeply, more honestly.
To embrace all of who I am, not just the shiny egoic exterior.
Jung—thank you. A thousand times, thank you.
I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.