Every year I think it’ll be different, and every year I stumble into March feeling bleary-eyed, bewildered, and bumfuzzled.

I wonder bitterly if I’ve taken a terrible wrong turn in my life; if I’m capable of love and laughter any more; and if I should just go get a nice job as a bouncer at a biker bar.

Then I remember: nah, it’s just February.

Here’s what helps me when I want to throw it all away for free cheap beer: the practice of being a mystic.

See, my life used to feel like it was always February.

Which is even worse than always winter and never Christmas.

Now it only feels like February for a few weeks out of the year!  (Isn’t that a catchy slogan?  Don’t you want to hire me now?  Woohoo!)

But seriously, I used to feel blue and raw and precarious ALL the time.  And I really don’t any more.

What made the difference was a set of practices that I created for myself.  They were so life-changing for me, and so useful to my clients too, that I ultimately turned them into a seven-week program for mystics .  I only taught this program once a year, usually in the fall, and it was beautiful and intense had lots of deep engagement with me and therefore required a hefty investment to join.

But here’s the deal.  There are a ton of you mystical kindred spirits out there who could benefit so much from this material.  If you feel exhausted by the demands of physical life, if you feel other peoples’ moods seep into your own, if you feel shaken by things that don’t seem to bother other people– then I’d bet my leather jacket that you’re a mystic.  (and probably an empath.)

So I’m happy to announce that I’ve created a self-guided version of this program:

Practical Magic for Secret Mystics~ Solo Journey.

It’s got all the juice of the original program, with recorded classes, weekly posters to keep you on track, an exclusive interview series with my own mentors, and new worksheets and guided visualizations.

They’re all part of an organic seven-week process that helps you build psychic muscle so that you feel more clear, powerful, and at home in the world.

But here’s the thing.  I got a letter from a reader this week that was so poignant that I wanted to write her back a whole novel.  I’ll spare her that, but with her permission I’m sharing her letter below, as well as my response.

She wrote:

Hi Anna,

I was on your call yesterday.  The one about What to do with Haters.  Here is my strange, embarrassing question:  What if you cant relate to me? We are both moms, but I have a [particularly challenging set of circumstances], and I keep finding myself checked out.  In other words, I have made and am still making many more stupid mistakes then you have even had time to imagine.  You seem so fresh and young and full of life.  I used to have a lot of enthusiasm and energy, but my mothering  journey has currently kicked my ass!  I’m sorry this sounds so f’ing pathetic,  but I would really like to hear from you.  Do you think your Solo Mystic Journey can help me get out of this current hole I’m in?

Now, do you think I read this email and thought, “Hunh.  I can’t relate at all.”?

[Insert manic laughter here.]

No.  First I laughed darkly at the words “young and fresh and full of life.”  And then I laid down and cried a little, because her email sounded so much like what goes through my own head every single day.  Honestly, motherhood kicks my ass hard.  And I make mistakes.  Big ones.  Ones that cost money, ones that embarrass me, ones that accidentally offend people I love.

Here’s what I want to tell this beautifully honest woman:

****

Please know that what you see on Facebook and my website is only one lens on my life.  It is a truthful lens!  I never lie, and I don’t photoshop.  But for every photo where I look pretty and my daughter is smiling, there are at least five where I have a double chin and she is scowling.  I try to be authentic in these missives but also useful.  So you don’t hear my whining; my coach and my journal do.

But I want to say, for the record, that while some days I feel full of life, some days I feel exhausted and lethargic.  Especially in February.

When my class didn’t record this week, when I got a flat tire this weekend, when they didn’t send the papers AGAIN that I paid for, when my daughter threw her fortieth tantrum in ten minutes, when the thing I’ve confirmed 400 times got called off at the last minute, when that person yelled at me on the phone and the sitter canceled and so did the playdate– I was convinced that I. Just. Can’t. Do It. And. I. Hate. Everything.

And to top it all off, every time I hit the end of my rope, the audience in my head is gagging with shame and horror that I am being so whiney and drama-queen-y about my tiny, privileged, first-world problems and flagellating me for being so mortifyingly self-indulgent. In other words, it’s telling me that I’m being f’ing pathetic.

So, dear woman, I hear you.  We are sisters.

And here is the only difference.  Even though I’m feeling blue and February-ish and like everything is hard, only part of me is feeling that way.

Even when I’m beating up on myself or throwing myself down in a true slump of despair or can’t get up the energy to do ambitious things like pour myself another glass of wine, there is one part of my spirit that remains just a tiny bit amused by it all.

She is the part of me that I wooed using the practices of Practical Magic for Secret Mystics.  You can call her my soul, or my higher self, or my inner wisdom, or my witchy witch, whatever you want.  She doesn’t beat me up for feeling f’ing pathetic, but she also doesn’t let me stay there.

Here is what she does: she quietly goes and books me a massage.  She dials up a friend–a trustworthy friend who won’t judge or worry–and whispers, I’m losing it.  Help.  She puts on a video for my daughter and hands me a novel.  She schedules a session with my coach.  (She makes sure I have a coach.)  She unrolls my yoga mat, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.  She brings me a rich dream, a hilarious synchronicity, a gentle nudge toward the light.

She is my great ally.  And I nurtured her using the seven steps of Practical Magic.

I gave her safety, so that she could relax deeply enough to stop being afraid.  I gave her a magic wand, so that she can speak to me through my body.  I taught her to cloak herself, so that she wasn’t picking up every crummy emotion or thought from the people around her.  I learned about the deeper feminine rhythms, so that I could work with her instead of fighting her.  We went into the cauldron together so that we were both more whole.  I invited in bliss to be our teacher because we had learned enough from pain.  And now she is my great ally in the advanced magics of intuition, dreams, and guidance.

So sweetheart, I don’t know if this Solo Journey is the right thing for you.  Sometimes our holes are so deep that we need a really trusted safe guide, like a therapist or coach or doctor, to help us out of them.  If you feel like your yearning has slipped into depression, please find yourself someone eminently kind and skilled to help you find your way back.

Sometimes our holes are actually tunnels taking us someplace necessary.  Sometimes there’s nothing wrong except that we expect more of ourselves than is humanly possible, and leaning in to the intense experience will help us find our way into a new way of being.

But sometimes our holes are holes only because we’ve been spinning our wheels, trying to get something done with missing or faulty tools, so we sink deeper and deeper.  In that case all you need to get traction to start climbing out is a new set of tools designed to work for you.

These are the tools that worked for me.  I’m not trying to sell you on the program, but I honestly made it because it was what would have helped me more than anything a few years ago.  I’d say listen to your gut.  If you read the information page and your gut feels open and expansive and yearning, then that’s a yes.  If your stomach feels jittery or tight or a little sick, then it’s a no.

****

I’m sharing this dialogue with all of you because it’s so hard to feel like we’re the only ones struggling.  Sometimes I can hardly stand the incessant cheeriness of the self-help world, with its miracles and manifesting and affirmations.  I believe that these darker threads of our experience are also part of the richness of our experience.  If you look through all the lenses, you’ll find they’re beautiful in their own right.

Bottom line: being able to feel compassion for myself even when I’m a total mess is, quite literally, the secret of the universe for me.

You’ll have to discover your own secrets.  But I’ll share mine with you, just in case it helps.