The Importance of Protecting Your Magic

Your survival stories will keep you going when the world tries to get you down.

Have you ever had a moment where you didn’t think you were going to make it? A time where you felt lost, stagnant and woefully unprepared for the challenges ahead?

Maybe you lost a lot of money on an ill-advised business venture or received yet another rejection letter while attempting to escape a job that continually threatens to kill your soul. Perhaps you spent a lot of time creating an online course that no one paid attention to or had a defeating exchange with someone who thought your life path was a waste of your talents.

Everyone reading this post has been there at some point. We’ve all encountered moments where someone or something attempts to steal our magic or drain our energy or rain on our parade—and similarly, we’ve all lived to tell the tale. Despite the battles and challenges, heart breaks and setbacks, we find ways to survive.

I recently read a book that centered on this point. The aptly named You’re Going to Survive by Alexandra Franzen gives many amazing examples of people who have encountered rejection, bad reviews and nutty clients, only to learn valuable lessons about how to respond, adjust, and thrive in the wake of their failures and disappointments. This got me thinking about my own resilience in the aftermath of vibe-murdering moments.

Encouraged by the book’s call to write a “survivor story,” something to come back to when you need a little extra encouragement, love and motivation, I wrote my own below. What follows are three examples of how I endured various attempts to steal my magic and the lessons I learned from those experiences.

#1. “Being a journalist is hard. Why don’t you become a kindergarten teacher instead?”

I’ve known that I wanted to be a writer since I was in the third grade. Specifically, I knew that I wanted to talk to people, hear about their happenings and perspectives, and write about them. Not everyone is born to be a writer, but everyone has a story. I wanted to be in a position to help them tell it.

That passion is what led me to share my dreams with my extended family on my thirteenth birthday. It’s also what prompted my Aunt Gail to respond with the sentiment above. Today, this is a funny anecdote, but back then, I was completely deflated. It took the wind right out of my sails. In retrospect and with the beauty of hindsight, I understand that her intention was likely to protect me from disappointment.

You should also know that on the Petrovic side of the family, women can hold precisely three acceptable positions: teacher, nurse and some role that involves working at a bank. End of list. If you know me well, you know none of those careers would have led to dream fulfillment for me. I’ve never wanted to be in a position where I have to manage other people’s children, ailments or money.

So, I wasn’t going to be a kindergarten teacher. I was going to pout for a bit and then go on to be a writer. My aunt’s commentary on my career path did, however, have one perk: It made me absolutely determined to prove her wrong—the one thing I might enjoy even more than writing and storytelling. And you know what? On my journey to overcome the odds, I encountered dozens of other people who echoed her opinion along the way. People who told me I’d never find a job, that journalism was a dying industry, that I’d never make it.

People kept hurling cynicism and negativity, projecting their own fear of failure onto me. Consciously or unconsciously, they wanted to keep me in line, my dreams in check, my britches appropriately sized. Every time their comments threatened to steal my magic, I grew more determined. I trusted my intuition and what I knew to be true. Not only did I survive, I thrived. Less than a year after graduating college, I scored my first journalism job, and I’ve been writing ever since.

#2. “How does it feel to know you’d be the least educated person in my family?”

Of the many (many) beautiful things I appreciate about my partner, the biggest is probably that he’s always been 1,000 percent supportive of my dreams. He trusts my instincts. He knows I am smart and capable and will always work to make decisions that are right for me and for us.

Before I met my husband, however, I spent far too long dating someone who spend a large amount of time trying to make me feel bad about myself. He always had to feel like smartest one in the room. There was never any space for anyone else to shine. I have some theories about why he behaved this way, but who cares, really, because this is my survival story, not his.

The point is that this guy’s outsized ego couldn’t handle being outsmarted or outmatched. If he didn’t constantly have the upper hand in a conversation, argument, debate, everyone around him was a target for his cruelty. Unsurprisingly, he spent an inordinate amount of time trying to steal other people’s magic. See his comments above for context.

When we were talking about marriage (cue the dodged bullet), he felt the need to front-stab me with the fact that his parents, siblings and he had pursued postsecondary education. My lowly bachelor’s degree was therefore somehow unworthy. But here’s the kicker. I was just as successful, if not more so, than anyone in his family—just without the debt. I didn’t need higher education to thrive in my career. I was doing perfectly fine.

For a long time, these types of comments really wore me down. I lost a lot of my confidence, and as embarrassing as it is to admit this, I started to doubt myself. I retreated inward. I relinquished a bit of my sparkle and stopped owning my magic. It was a pretty dark time, one where I felt dangerously far from my inner light.

I’ll tell you what helped though: Eventually getting fed up enough to cut the jerk out of my life. And you know what happened? The universe responded in kind. I found a super high-paying job, moved to a cool apartment and met the real love of my life. It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly, I began to access my magic again. I took control of my choices, reassessed my circle and made moves that benefitted the person whose opinion will always be the only one that matters: me.

#3. “You don’t actually believe in that astrology stuff, do you?”

What is it about alternative thinking that activates people’s deepest insecurities? That might be the most Aquarian thing I’ve ever written… Regardless, I stand by it, and history supports it. Anyone who has ever attempted to deviate from “the norm” has encountered resistance similar to the naysayer’s accusation above.

It makes sense on some level. When we have the audacity to own our power, we are bound to meet at least a few haters. You know the type. People who ask questions not with curiosity but animosity, who are afraid to live courageously, who want to fit in at all costs. And this is perfectly fine. Everyone should do what works best for them. The problem is when other people’s pessimism encroaches on our magic. That’s when we must take measures to protect it.

I’ve found two approaches to dealing with doubters who ask non-questions like the astrology one. The first is to give a non-response. This could also mean being vague enough to let people fill in the dots however they want. After all, they were going to do that anyway. I also think this approach is ideal for people you’re never going to see again and whose opinions you don’t respect or care about.

For example, I’ve used a version of this when I tell people that my name is Karli, and they hear “Harley.” If I’m never going to see you again, I don’t care if you know my name. Your inaccuracy has an expiration date. I don’t feel the need to correct you.

That said, I’m also not about to be one of those sociopaths that loses it if their name is misspelled on a Starbucks cup. Unless you frequent this coffeeshop location and are trying to buddy-buddy with the baristas, who cares what the high schoolers behind the counter think your name is during this 47-second interaction?

I realize I’m getting off topic. The point is this: I used this approach the first time I encountered skepticism about the magical arts (my term for tarot, astrology, witchcraft, etc.). “I believe in it when it fits,” is what I said. This guy is a Taurus. The astrology definitely fit. If you read about this sign, the description will end with a photo of this guy. The result of this approach? He maintained his opinion of astrology as ridiculous and unserious, and I continued to believe that we can learn a lot about ourselves and others from studying the stars. Win-win.

Today, my survival story looks a little different. When I have the time, energy and patience, I use a second approach. In this one, I explain my perspective and understanding, welcome the other person to share theirs, and invite further discussion if the other person would like to chat more and isn’t a dick about the entire thing. The key part of this approach is to refrain from giving the impression that you will be swayed by the other person’s beliefs. This is the part that’s important for protecting your magic.

The good news is that by being firmly rooted in our power, those intent to dismiss us cease to ruffle our feathers. And if I’ve learned anything from these three experiences, it is this: I trust my magic above all else, and I will protect it at all costs. Ultimately, my survival stories are ones that taught me thrive in my power. I didn’t think I was going to make it, but I did, and you will, too.

Want to learn even more about fostering, trusting and protecting your unique brand of personal magic? Join Ms. Kelly Suttell and me for the How to Access Your Practical Magic six-week course. Spots are limited, so secure your spot today.