The Butcher of Plainfield: Ed Gein’s Case for Insanity

I originally wrote this for my Forensic Psychology class (which I loved by the way!). I decided to post it here since I feel it’s important in today’s society; especially the stigma of mental illness and inmates. Oh yeah, and I got an A in the class….

On a cold November day in 1957, in the little town of Plainfield, Wisconsin, Bernice Worden, owner of the town’s hardware store, was visited by a little man with a crooked smile. Edward Theodore Gein was known to everyone as being a nice, friendly, quiet man with a little bit of strangeness to him. Bernice was not surprised to see him that morning since he had been in the day before inquiring about antifreeze. While Bernice was filling up a glass container with antifreeze, Ed noticed a rack of rifles for sale behind the counter. After paying for the antifreeze, Ed asked Bernice if he could look at one of the rifles; he was interested in trading his in for a new one. Bernice removed one of the .22 caliber rifles and handed it to Ed. While Ed was examining the rifle, Bernice looked out of her shop window to the gas station across the street. Quietly behind her back, Ed had placed a bullet cartridge in the rifle and shot Bernice in the back of the head.

            Later that evening, Bernice’s son and the town’s Deputy Sheriff, Frank Worden was told that the hardware store had been closed all day. Finding that unusual Frank entered the store to find blood on the floor, the cash register gone and receipt for antifreeze. Frank was aware of who the suspect was; he was in the store the day before when Ed had come in inquiring about that antifreeze. Immediately, Frank alerted the Washuara County Sheriff’s office who put out a notice that they were looking for Ed Gein in suspicion of Bernice Worden’s disappearance. The first place they went to find Ed Gein was his home; an old run-down farmhouse on the outskirts of town. When the officers entered the house, they were not prepared for the horrors that lurked inside. Bernice Worden, hung upside down by her ankles on a crossbar and arms tied to her wrists, sliced open and dressed like deer. She was decapitated, her head lying in a nearby bag with hooks going through her ears, ready to be hung as a trophy. And that was not the only gruesome discovery that the officers would later discover. Ed Gein’s house was full of human remains which were fashioned into morbid household items. Refurbished furniture and lamps; masks, gloves, belts and even a mammary vest– all made from human skin. There were also skulls as decorations on his four-poster bed, skull caps used as bowls and boxes of female body parts filled the cramped and tiny rooms. Finally, a call came in that Gein had been taken into custody after being found at a local grocery store (Schechter, 1998a, p. 72). It would be later revealed that most Ed Geins “trophies” were from nine-eleven corpses dug up from various local cemeteries. Thus, began the story of America’s most bizarre and influential murderers of all time. But, was Ed Gein a truly devious and deviant criminal? Or was he the result of a life of social isolation, a fanatically religious and strict mother and an undiagnosed mental illness?

Ed Gein was born on August 27, 1906, the youngest child of George and Augusta Gein. Living on the outskirts of the small town of Plainfield, Wisconsin, the Gein’s were recluses from the rest of society. Ed Gein’s father was an alcoholic, who would spend most of his pay at a local tavern and abusive to both his wife and children and died of liver failure in 1940.

August Gein was a religious extremist who made her home her own self-contained little world. While Ed grew up with his older brother Henry, there would be no companionship that could change the influence of a puritanical mother who would frequently shame her children. She would preach to her two sons about the evils in the world and did everything in her power to keep them away from the hurts of society. She would physically abuse them if they made friends at school; making it clear that they should stay away from those who would turn them from their piety. She would read to her boys nightly from the Bible, quoting scripture and reminding them that society is full of evil, more specifically, that women were sinful. Her most significant proselytization was the Book of Revelations which specifically discusses the Whore of Babylon; a reference she would use to describe corrupt and sinful women. These specific teachings would have a profound influence on her youngest son.  To Ed, his relationship with his mother was the most important relationship he would ever have. When his brother Henry died, and Ed had his mother to himself, and he did everything he could to make her proud of him and doted on her morning through night. Ed loved his mother completely, regardless of whether she reciprocated her feelings or not. In his eyes, his mother was the most pious and magnificent woman in the world. Whenever asked about his mother, Ed would tear up and reply “she was pure goodness(Schechter, 1998b, p. 14).

It was not until his mother passed away on December 29, 1945, that Ed’s descent into madness began. Despite Ed’s strange affect, he was seen in the Plainfield community as an upstanding citizen. Disheveled and often wearing his signature checkered hat, Ed would work frequent odd jobs, functioned as a handyman to the citizens of Plainfield and even worked as a babysitter. He may have always been on the wrong end of a joke, but Ed was a friendly, quiet and kind man. Occasionally, Ed would say something or give a strange look that would make some uncomfortable; but they would just brush it off as Ed being Ed! However, it was shortly after the death of his mother, that Ed began to go to cemeteries with the belief that he “could raise the dead by willpower” (Schechter, 1998c, p.186). This was also the time that Ed Gein began to remove corpses of freshly buried middle-age women—women who reminded him of his mother. Ed would bring the corpses back to his now dilapidated family farm and remove the skin from their bodies. He would use the skin and other parts of the body to construct gloves, leggings, belts, masks and a vest with breasts. Later, he admitted, he would wear them to essentially become his mother.  During Ed Gein’s 1957 police interview, Gein admitted that between 1947-1952 that he exhumed between nine to eleven bodies from three local graveyards. Additionally, when asked why he not only murdered Bernice Worden but, as was later discovered, the murder of Mary Hogan, a popular tavern owner who went missing in 1954, Ed replied that they were “disreputable women with bad reputations” (Ed Gein’s Full Confession, 2019, p 68).

Ed Gein was arraigned in Washuara County Court on one count of first-degree murder. He entered a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity, and was found mentally incompetent and was unfit to stand trial. Ed was sent to the Criminal State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, a maximum-security facility in Wapun, Wisconsin and later sent to Mendota State Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin for his initial psychiatric assessment. It was during his stay in the hospital, that Ed Gein was interviewed by several doctors. During the interviews, he would frequently discuss memory deficits as well auditory and visual hallucinations; stating that he often saw faces in leaves, heard voices and would see buzzards flying over half-burnt trees. Most notable was Ed’s discussion of the motivation to create “a substitute for his mother in the form of a replica that could be kept indefinitely” and showed an “abnormally magnified attachment to his mother” (Schechter 1998d, p 189). The doctors finally diagnosed with Schizophrenia of an undifferentiated type. Schizophrenia is a mental illness whose symptoms can include “delusions, hallucinations, trouble with thinking and concentration, and lack of motivation” (Parekh, 2017). Schizophrenia is also marked by distorted perceptions and disordered and confused thinking.

It would take ten full years for Ed Gein to be declared competent enough to stand trial. On November 14, 1968, Ed Geins trial began and only lasted a week. He was found guilty by reason of insanity and sentenced to spend the rest of his life in a psychiatric facility.  He was sent back to Mendota State Hospital to carry out the rest of his days. During his stay in Mendota, Ed was a model patient. He remained quiet, mild-mannered, friendly and often helpful in doing odd jobs around the hospital. In July of 1978, after senility and a long bout of cancer, Ed Gein died of respiratory failure. With only four attendants, Ed Gein was buried next to his mother in Plainfield, Wisconsin.

Ed Gein’s case is a great example of secondary psychopathy and the M’Naghten rule. Secondary psychopathy creates antisocial behavior and is caused by “social disadvantage and other psychopathology” (Huss, 2009a, p 80). Ed clearly had this form of psychopathy considering not only his upbringing in a poor and abusive family but also in his lack of social skills. Moreover, the M’Naghten rule played a key role in sending Ed Gein to a psychiatric hospital for the rest of his life. Insanity relies on the person having a diagnosed mental illness (in this case schizophrenia) and being unable to distinguish between right and wrong (Huss, 2009b, p.103). Furthermore, there is a clear indication that Ed suffered from severe social anxiety and had a very difficult time relating to other people, more specifically, women. Ed’s abnormal devotion to his deceased mother made it difficult for him to have a normal relationship with a woman and he remained a bachelor his whole life. Naturally, of course, there was a public outcry over the guilty by the reasoning of insanity from the people of Plainfield. They firmly believed that Ed could have been devious enough to pretend he had a mental illness. However, after reading Geins confession, I firmly believe that Ed Gein did suffer from a mental illness and that the sentence was appropriate.

Ed Gein is probably one of the most complicated killers I have ever researched. To the residents of Plainfield, Ed was viewed as a kindhearted and always willing to help kind of guy. Although he was a bit strange and remained an outcast, he never gave anyone the impression that he would commit the crimes that he did. While reading his confessions as well as Harold Schechter’s book, it was impossible not to feel some type of sorrow for him.  I would never condone the murder of an innocent person nor the desecration of corpses, however, given Ed’s upbringing, I feel that he was set up for failure. From a sociological perspective, Ed was kept from establishing normal peer relationships growing up and did not have many if any close friends. Peer groups have a significant influence on psychological and social adjustments for individuals (Schaeffer, 2013, p. 261). Peer groups also have an influence on a person’s gender role-something that often comes up frequently in the Ed Gein case. There is no doubt, that aside from the pitiful, sad and lonely person that was Ed Gein, there was a darker side that he could not escape from. With his complex and twisted crimes, it is no wonder the Ed Gein has become one of the most influential killers in American History.ed-gein-680x1024-680x675


Ed Gein Full Confession. (2019, 5 10) pg 68. Retrieved from Serial Killers Ink:

Huss, M. (2009a). Forensic Psychology: Research, Clinical Practice, and Applications. pg. 80. Malden: Wiley-Blackwell.

Huss, M. (2009b). Forensic Psychology: Research, Clinical Practice, and Applications. pg. 103. Malden: Wiley-Blackwell.

Parekh, R. (2017, 7 1). What is Schizophrenia? Retrieved from American Psychiatric Association:

Schaefer, R. (2013). pg. 261 Sociology: A Brief Introduction. New York: McGraw-Hill.

Schechter, H. (1998a). Deviant: The Shocking True Story of Ed Gein the Original “Psycho”. pg.72  New York: Pocket Books.

Schechter, H. (1998b). Deviant: The Shocking True Story of Ed Gein the Original “Psycho”. pg. 14. New York: Pocket Books.

Schechter, H. (1998c). Deviant: The Shocking True Story of Ed Gein the Original “Psycho”. pg. 186. New York: Pocket Books.

Schechter, H. (1998d). Deviant: The Shocking True Story of Ed Gein the Original “Psycho”. pg. 189. New York: Pocket Books.



Your Life is Going Down The Toilet

About the only thing I like about Facebook is when “Memories” pop up. The other day a memory came up from a former friend. It was a memory from 6.5 years ago.

“Girl. What is going on with you? Your life is going down the toilet.”

As I said, she was a former friend.

Her comment probably pissed me off then, but it pissed me off even more now. Seven years ago I was in the midst of a major upheaval of my life. One of those times when your life gets shaken up and you have no idea where you are going to fall.

I was ending a six-year relationship with someone who I thought was “the one.” He broke me financially and emotionally. I was always last in his life, and it hurt. I was tired. I was also experiencing a deep depression and major anxiety. The job that I loved was in jeopardy due to changes and I had no idea what was up and what was down. It was a time of tears, sleepless nights, heartache and fear of the unknown.

On the outside, yeah my life looked like an impending train wreck. It was. But was my life going down the toilet? When we are going through a major shift–does it mean we are flushing our lives away?

No. Absolutely not.

Naturally, when we are in the midst of life chaos, it can feel like our lives are dissolving. Every choice we ever made seems to be under suspicion. We spend time reflecting on what-ifs and why ifs. It’s not that our lives are going down the toilet. It means we are growing!

My relationship ended because I realized who I was and what I wanted in life. I also realized what was triggering my depression and anxiety–and it was a simple fact that I was unhappy. Do I regret the choices I made that brought me to that point? No way.

Regardless of how old you are— you are constantly growing. And with growth comes change. Most often that change is painful. At the moment, it feels like your life is going down the drain and if you will ever stop falling. And then by choices that you make- things fall into place.

No one’s life is ever going down the toilet. Even those who have made bad life choices. I work with patients who are recovering drug addicts. They have lost everything they had because of their choice to do drugs. By society’s view, these people are garbage. They are labeled “crack heads,” “tweakers,” “meth heads.” Yes. They made some fucked up choices. However, when they finally choose to get help and move forward-not only do they grow and acknowledge their past and choices- but they become beautiful people.

Wherever you are in life. Whatever you have done. Whether good or bad were all your choices. But even if you are hanging by a thread–your life is never going down the trash. You are learning, growing and changing. You own that.

Breaking The Silent Darkness

As most of you know, I am very open about my anxiety and depression. I don’t feel a need to hide the fact that I am on medication nor that I have days when the darkness is so thick I feel like I am going to suffocate. Yet, with all that said, I still struggle to tell certain people. Especially employers and co-workers.

I have major anxiety. Sometimes its so crippling I cant even leave the house. Yes, its much better controlled now. I have been in regular therapy since 2009 to teach myself new ways to think and break recycled thoughts; and medication have made it much easier to deal…but it doesn’t completely take it away. The thing that is hard for people to understand is that I do not always have a trigger. Sometimes, I just wake up feeling anxious—like the floor is going to fall out from underneath me. But I do have triggers.

635910017101254627-2001905247_Anxiety Girl

And one of those triggers is driving. I hate driving. I didn’t get my license until I was 21 because I hate the idea of getting in a car and driving. To this day I still struggle to drive on highways. I avoid it as much as I can. That coupled with social anxiety makes it worse. My dog helps with that…he is a good icebreaker. But I cant take my dog everywhere. So the idea of driving to a place I do not know AND seeing people I do not know…causes a panic attacks like an erupting volcano!

Hearing myself think these thoughts I often think I must sound like the most pathetic creature on the face of the earth. I am 34 and afraid to drive? I am 34 and cant even leave the town I live in? I had to, tell my boss this after she asked me to drive two and half hours to a town in a state that I just moved in. I was panicked. I told her I couldn’t because, truthfully, we have one car and I pick up my partner from work… a 5 hour drive plus time at the other office would make it impossible to circumnavigate schedules. But, I really wanted to  tell her the immediate truth….I have anxiety—and driving alone for 5 hours to a place I don’t even know—that triggered anxiety which triggered panic attacks. That weekend I tried really hard to tell myself how irrational I was being…But my brain didn’t care what I thought–it was on a loop of fight or flight. I even tried to get up enough courage to drive 45 minutes to a neighboring town that I have been before—and I started to go but then I got a wave of panic and had to turn around. Its paralyzing. Anxiety is paralyzing. Naturally this triggered even more “oh my Gods what if’s….” and my brain got my body so worked up I couldn’t leave the house the rest of the day.


Finally I decided I needed to be truthful with my boss. She knew about my depression…and some of my anxiety…but not all of it. So I wrote her an email and explained what I feel, what my anxiety is like…and how I feel stupid I felt even having to admit these things. I was horrified of what the response maybe. I thought for sure, I was going to get in trouble–that she would think it was just an excuse or a cop out.

But no. It was the complete opposite. She completely understood. And even admitted that she has anxiety issues! I felt a huge weight come off me! It felt good! And I wasn’t judged….(so take that brain!). I had a new found respect for my boss after that to. She understood what I was going through….and that made a huge difference!

Sometimes, with depression, anxiety, or anything other mental illness… are so afraid that you will be judged by others–or that they will think you are just making up excuses. But in truth, despite how scary or nerve wracking–its best to lay out the cards. Tell it like it is and regardless, always hold your head up. Sometimes when you think you are alone—you really are not!


When is society going to start getting politically correct when it comes to mental illness? When are words like “crazy,” “nutter,” “looney ” going to become just as offensive and disgusting to use as the words nigger and fag? When someone utters those words everyone stops and stares–it defines that persons way of thinking. But when someone refers to a person with a mental illness as a “looney” no one even bats and eye. As a friend said, “its much more acceptable to be an alcoholic than mentally ill.”

We have a friend who is a paranoid schizophrenic. He refuses to get real help, even though several people have talked to him about it. And yes, sometimes he is a bit much. He has rants and conspiracies–talks to otherworldly beings etc. (and as a Shamanic practitioner–I do not doubt that he does!). His reality–what he sees — is not our definition of reality. His reality is defined by his illness. The schizophrenic mind does not agree with reality. It is a psychosis. And, he cant help that. He is a good person with a good heart who is very intelligent. He cant help having a mental illness. No one knows what deck of cards they are going to be handed when they are born into this life.

Yes his behavior can be erratic and yes you do have to constantly redirect him during conversation. But he is not a bad person. He recently has been kicked out of a cafe for his rants, and has had altercations with other folks. In the past, he has had the shit kicked out him from police and people in society who don’t understand the simple fact he is sick. I am not saying that he should get away with every little thing–and that his behavior is always justified. But he is ill. His angry outbursts are not out of malicious intent; he can not help what is brain does. Outbursts and angry rants are par for the course. Its part of the illness which is schizophrenia. And like cancer or any other physical illness, schizophrenia varies from person to person.

What upsets me, is the reaction people have about him. Not compassion. Not empathy. But utter disgusting hypocrisy and hateful words. For example  (and these are direct quotes):

” I can read a loon as soon as they open their mouth to speak.”

Ask the alien race hes hangin with…they might be able to shed some light on the dysfunction.”


“Loon”—“dysfunction.” Would you say this about a person with cancer? Parkinsons? Would you tell them they are full of shit? Would you call them names? Absolutely not–because its WRONG.

And yet, when it comes to mental illness…people say whatever they want about the person because they think, “well,  they are just crazy.” And that is why society can be a disgusting hypocritical beast. Its not OK to use racist or bigoted words, but it is OK to use hateful mean words to someone with a mental diagnosis? How is this acceptable? And people who find it funny, should be ashamed of themselves. No matter how a person is reacting with mental illness–no aspect of it is funny. No one makes fun of mentally disabled people–Asbergers, Mental Retardation, Down Syndrome….because they can SEE the disability. Well guess what–mental illness is no different!

I cant tell you how many times I have been called “crazy,” “emotional,” “full of shit,” “faking it.”—And you know..that used to really hurt me. It hurt because no one understood the battle I deal with every single day of my life. When I am a happy person and and yet my brain is full of despair and anxiety. Now, I get pissed off. And I get pissed off when people in my tribe are called these things because society thinks its okay.

Its about time that society start getting PC about mental illness. People should think about their words before they open their mouth about someone who is mumbling to themselves on the bus, or crying all the time, or fearful of going out to go shopping because their brain is on constant fight or flight–or any of the other mental illnesses out there that appear to be “crazy” to society.


The Dark Side of the Light Keepers

Living with depression is not easy. I mean, no chronic illness is easy to live with; but depression doesn’t always show “physical” symptoms. So when you tell someone you have an illness, they are looking for obvious symptoms. It’s not always easy for me to tell people when I am feeling depressed. I have been masking it most of my life, its what I have become used to. I mean, sure, I will tell someone “hey if I seem quite or off its because I am going through a bad bout of depression,” and they either get or they don’t. I have gotten so good at crying in the bathroom at work, or pretending my contacts are bothering me when people ask me if I am ok because my eyes are puffy and red from secretly crying. I have become so good at telling people I am not feeling good when I get asked to hang out because telling people that my brain has decided to crap out on me is easier.

I have been fortunate enough that my last two employers understood what was going on and allowed me time off when I just…well…when I just couldn’t. When I felt that getting out of bed wasn’t worth it. When all I wanted to do was sit in my pj’s on the couch and cry my eyes out for no goddamned reason.

But it still doesn’t make having depression easier. I have become really good at hiding the darkness within my light on a daily basis. I have depression all the time, but some days…or weeks…its worse than others. But I try, damned hard, to push the light through. Its hard for people to understand….that there is a dark side to the light keepers.

I have one of the most bubbly, cheerful, happiest personalities. I LOVE my life. I LOVE myself. I worked hard to get to where I am…and now that I am finally here…I could not be happier. A great partner, awesome family, great job, beautiful home, a great wellness practice, my dancing, my coven…everything I have dreamed of is now a reality. But that reality includes the fact that I live with a mental illness. An illness that sometimes, despite KNOWING I am happy, makes me feel like some dark storm is enveloping me and will not  GO AWAY.


I AM A LIGHT KEEPER. I hold the love and bliss that the Universe has given me deep within my soul and heart. But sometimes its hard to keep the darkness at bay. People have a hard time understanding—depression makes you sad FOR NO REASON. Despite being a light keeper… brain likes to let the darkness in. Its like fighting a battle of good and evil on a daily basis…and sometimes the good will come and last for weeks. Other times, the darkness wins and eats the light until the light can finally get enough courage to battle again.

And its EXHAUSTING. I am constantly exhausted. In addition to the depression–the anxiety that goes along with it!? Imagine being in a grocery store and having to leave a full cart of food in the middle of the aisle because you are having a panic attack so bad you feel like your heart is going to come out of your throat! I have!!!

But through it all…I still manage to hold onto the light and push forward. This was the deck of cards I was handed and its the deck of cards I am going to play with for the rest of my life. And if I have learned anything, its that Light Keepers have a pretty good poker face when it comes to playing with depression.

The Dark Side of the Moon: When the Light Fades

There is always a light and dark side to everything in life. And for those of us with depression, the dark side tends to be the most prominent. I have battled depression most of my life, with an attempted suicide at age 14 followed by panic attacks later in life and then several shrinks. I finally found a therapist I liked and from 2009-2013 I saw her and a psychiatric Nurse Practitioner during the darkest hours. I am very open about having clinical depression because I have to be the voice for the thousands out there afraid to talk about because they are afraid of being judged. In 2014 I was doing great—so great my social worker decided that she only needed to see me on as needed basis and my NP tapered my meds. I was feeling on top of the world.


Then, I recently, and abruptly had a life change. Within two weeks, my boyfriend and I were packed up and heading to Arizona. There we were on a Saturday night enjoying some wine and sake listening to some old school tunes in an apartment I lived in for 15 years to suddenly packing boxes on Sunday, renting a U-Haul and driving 2300 miles away from the only place I had called home. It happened so fast I had no time to comprehend what the hell just happened. The whole cliché of having the carpet pulled out from under you—is serious shit.

Here we are in Arizona and the adjustment has been difficult. We went from a major city to a new town. We know no one. Have np physical support system here and are basically fending for ourselves. I have to find a job pronto to make sure we can pay rent which means finding meaningless work to pay the bills.

And what happens but that the dark side appears. I woke up one day in tears. I was crying to the point where I couldn’t stop. My depression had returned. YES—the move was the TRIGGER—but not the reason.

People who don’t have depression don’t understand what it’s like. Imagine that you are just moving along a bright sunny day when suddenly someone throws a pitch black can’t see shit bag over your face and never ever takes it off. It’s like that. A dark cloud that just doesn’t go away. And thoughts-bad thoughts come in your mind. And YOU CAN’T HELP IT. It’s just there.

I have had so many people tell me it’s the move. To give it time. To find joy in the things around me. Believe me…I am trying. We have gone to canyons, creeks, walked, enjoyed the beauty of the place—but my lack of happiness isn’t with where I live…it’s chemically going on in my brain.


I think that’s hardest thing about depression–people think it’s an external thing that can be “fixed”–when it’s a chemical thing that can’t be fixed just “adjusted”….and I appreciate everyone’s helping…. but depression can’t be fixed with a walk or giving my move time…if it were…I would be walking all day every day and loving every bit of Flagstaff. It’s hard for people who don’t have a clinical diagnosis to understand that depression is not always due to outside circumstances. I appreciate everyone’s kindness and offerings of advice during times like this, but want I everyone to understand that it’s not going to “fix” what’s happening inside my head. I can’t just flip a switch and “be happy”—nor can I flip a switch and decide that all the chemical mishaps in my brain will fix themselves.

Being supportive is awesome. Being able to just be there—and listen—is even more awesome.

The Dark Side of the Shaman

Shamanism is not for the weak. Nor is it something one dabbles in. Shamanism is a spiritual path that one takes because they are called. And once called, and you accept, it’s not always a bright shining path. People see me now and they think “wow you have such great energy” ~ but it took awhile for me to get there. And a LOT of darkness and loss along the way.


For a very long part of my life, I suffered from severe anxiety and deep depression.  I struggled to “fit in” ~ and not on a social level. On an every day I live level. I always liken it to feeling like I was a visitor on Earth, someone on the outside looking in. An observer. It wasnt until I was in my twenties and started meeting people of like mind that I started to feel “normal.”  In any case, meeting like-minded people, continuing my spiritual studies and finally finding Shamanism….I started to…..unravel.

From December 2011 to March 2014, my depression and anxiety got worse. In fact, I was having frequent panic attacks and my depression was so bad that I would spend days on end sleeping, crying and not eating. Sometimes not going to work for days. I found little joy in things, though I was able to put on a smile when I had to. I eventually ended up seeing a therapist and going on medication. IT was the ONLY way I could function. I am not, against medication when needed to HELP you see clearer. While digging my shoes deeper into the path of the Shaman, I began to loosen the strings and ties that had held me down for so long. It was a dark and scary. I had to acknowledge deep pain — emotional, spiritual, mental and physical. Barriers I set up a long time ago to protect myself. Pain I didn’t want to acknowledge. Past hurts. Present hurts. Things about myself that made me not a good person. It was like standing in front of a bunch of fun house mirrors and seeing myself warp into different people–yet remaining the same. So many layers of skin shed away. Things I thought I wanted and needed—I realized were a lie.


As the weights slowly came off, the depression lifted. And while there was still a fog around me, I was able to see a bit clearer…..I was finding out WHO I was and WHAT I wanted….Because of that, I started losing people close to me….Phone calls stopped. Emails stopped. Chats stopped. People I considered family simply vanished from my life. I  was okay with that. They were there for whatever time they were meant to be there. I know that now, though at the time, it felt like my world was shattering. I got divorced and realized the things I needed in a relationship were not just things based purely on the idea of love. My perceptions of relationships, love and friendship changed.

I quite literally, became a whole new person.


Shamanism is not an easy path. It’s a path that forces you to accommodate the LIGHT and THE DARK. I always explain to those interested in the Shamanic path…that you are like an ocean: you have your deep dark parts and your clear sparkling parts–the catch is being able to allow the two parts to flow together not apart–they are not separate. These two worlds, the dark and light, must be constantly fluid. Moving together.

As I began my career as a Shamanic Reiki Practitioner, more things came to “light” — more gifts opened up that once again forced me to look at myself. I had to learn how to deal with my new abilities and deepening intuition. I had to again, deal with the light and darkness that resides not only in the world around me, but in myself. Friends came and went, relationships changed…..But I went with the flow.

Being a Shaman is about becoming a master of the balance of light and dark.