I was raised to believe in Jesus. I did Sunday School, After School Club, and eventually became a regular at youth group meetings. And by the time I was 14, I was completely “on fire for God – a bona fide, DC Talkin’ Jesus Freak.

I adored Jesus. He was my everything. And my experience of Christianity was beautiful until I turned 18

Then my family experienced a major crisis; my mother, siblings, and I joined a new church because we were desperate for a spiritual home, and hope, in a time of despair. 

The pastors, Michelle and Allan Worthy, seemed so fashionable, cool, and authentic because they straight-talked about topics that were typically taboo in the Church. 

They were Christians but also refreshingly in touch with modern culture. Michelle was one of the most confident, colourful, and charismatic characters I’ve ever met. But she and her husband weren’t what they appeared to be.

Michelle was a raging narcissist and cunning sociopath; the dominant spous (enabled by her husband, who sat idly by as she abused member and member of the congregation).


She’d lock her office door while massaging teenage boys in there (and the rest of us weren’t allowed in). She exploited me and other parishioners for our money and time: she demanded that we pay her airfares for overseas conferences, insisted upon our presence at church meetings 4-6 nights a week, and also that we commit to maintaining the cleanliness and upkeep of the church building that she called “The Palace”.

On one occasion, I was encircles by a group of women and Michelle wouldn’t let me leave the building when I needed to go to work. And while I was entrapped, she forced me to take communion. I sobbed; hyperventilating and choking on the breadsticks as she yelled at me about how selfish I was. And after it was over, she hugged me tightly and told me that she was doing it because she loved me. 

Her demands on my time led me to quit my job because I couldn’t handle the responsibilities of being part of the church and working simultaneously. 

She pressured me to stop engaging the services of the counsellor I was seeing due to the trauma of childhood sexual abuse because Jesus was my “Wonderful Counsellor”.

Long story short: I left after 6 years, the aftermath was horrendous, and my family fell apart even further. I ended up homeless, jobless, immediate-family-less, and suicidal.


After a dissociative suicide attempt mid-2013, a group of relatives and close friends gathered around me and formed a powerful support network that created a foundation for me to rebuild my life.

After realising that I had a safe, loving container to deconstruct the consecutive traumas I’d experienced throughout the course of my life, it led me to question my Christian faith. And finally, at the end of 2013, I decided it was time to leave Jesus behind.

It wasn’t because I stopped believing but because I couldn’t read the Bible without dissociating. Or listen to worship music without wanting to self-harm. Leaving Christianity was about survival. And it led to a 4-year-long existential crisis where I was haunted by the fear of going to hell for not following Jesus anymore, PTSD episodes that made it impossible to hold down a job, and so much confusion about whether God was real or not.

I searched high and low for answers: Islam, Hinduism, and Judaism. But organised religion wasn’t for me. Buddhism felt a little more aligned for me but I wasn’t prepared to commit to anything. 

Then I came across a book on Chakras by Swami Saranadanda that helped me to ease my way into a new spiritual framework that was effective (and also allowed me to feel spiritually safe).

One resource led to another and after four years of seeking, experimenting, dipping my toes into different traditions, and finding what worked for me, I became more stable in terms of my own personal and spiritual identity. 

I simultaneous do, and don’t, believe in labeling things. The latter because I see each person as unique (and therefore their experience of spirituality is going to be most fulfilling as a bespoke one). But the latter because labels enable us to empower ourselves and reclaim our spiritual autonomy. So if I was forced to come up with a name for who I am as a magical practitioner, I’d call myself a Humanist Chaos Witch. 


If anyone understands the existential turmoil of navigating a faith crisis and deconversion, it’s me. If anyone has read the books, engaged in the rituals, and done the necessary internal healing work, it’s me. 

I’ve rebuilt my life, reconfigured my worldview, and transitioned from an emotionally crippled religious abuse survivor into a competent, knowledgeable withc with a passion for helping people step out of their uncertainty and into their legitimate power. And most importantly, I’m going to show you how to explore your way out from under the stressful, tiring weight of dogma into an I-can-finally-breathe again feeling of relief, freedom, and joy.

If you’re like me, you don’t want another person in a position of authority telling you how to live your life. You want gentle guidance on how to become your own authority. You want guidance on how to trust, and the lead, yourself.

I’ve got the spells, rituals, and know-how to help you do this. And most of all, I’m going to empower you to carve out your OWN path. One day, you won’t even need courses like mine because you’ll intrinsically know what’s right and true for you as you introspect. In the meantime, I’m gonna get you to the place where you’re confident enough to be your own sage.

You’re held, in spirit, by someone who gets it.

And I can’t fucking WAIT to share my secrets with you. 

Much love and blessed be,