This is Eight.

This is 8.

Trigger Warnings: trauma, CPTSD, narcissistic mothering, gaslighting, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, dysfunctional family, CSA.

This is 36.

This is 46. This is 47.

I am ready to tell what happened to me. To Eight. At 8. To us. After eleven years of memories coming back to me in tiny pieces and fragmented mind-fucks, I’ve nearly pieced it all together. I realize now that I could have started telling my story long ago but didn’t have the courage until now. I’m no longer afraid.

I had the perfect childhood: theme parks, birthday parties full of friends, lots of loving extended family, plenty of family time playing board and card games, all the toys any little girl could ever fathom, all the food I needed and more, a quiet father, a mother so attentive she rarely thought about herself at all.

Or. So. I. Thought.

Eight: the one of many child ghosts that still begs to have memories honored. The one that screams the loudest because her screams were never heard. The little girl inside me that has been trapped so long that the feelings cracked out of her like a busted egg on a plate: running all over the sides and floor into a mess.

Eight: when I lost part of myself that I am still trying to find. What are you trying to find? Is part of you also lost? How will you try to find it?

This sanctuary aims to comfort, validate, support, inform, and guide those who may find solace here. Whether you have trauma yourself or your friends and family do, everyone is welcome here.

What to do here? Take a tarot journey with Eight and see if she can help you find your way to eudamonia. Read her spells and see if any of the material resonates. Write your own story. Rewrite your memories to make them what you wish they had been. Or, just create new memories while you’re here. Make your own tarot art. Get lost and get found. Share your artwork in the forums. Find strength and offer support. Break the cycle. Make a new one.

Thank you for being here.