Embracing Light Bearers: Navigating Darkness with Guides of Hope and Transformation

Light Bearers: Illuminators of Truth and Transformation

When we looked at the moon last week, I told you, "You have to learn to see in the dark." I did not elaborate, when perhaps I should have. When we are in the dark, it’s less about learning to see in the dark and more about finding the people already holding the light. The truth is, the dark isn’t something to conquer alone; it’s something to navigate with others who have already found their way. Those are the people who light the path for us when we can’t see the next step. And sometimes, we don’t realize how much their light is guiding us until we find our own.

As I reflect on this, I see how my own journey has unfolded through cycles of darkness and light, through fog and clarity. The dark—those moments of uncertainty and struggle—have been my teachers, just as much as the light bearers have been my guides. But it’s the light bearers who truly carry us through, illuminating the spaces where we can’t see, leading us when we’re uncertain of our own way forward.

Historically, the term "light bearer" originates from figures like Prometheus or the morning star, symbolizing enlightenment and divine illumination. In modern society, light bearers can be seen as those who challenge darkness—whether ignorance, oppression, or systemic injustice. They are the activists, educators, healers, and artists who spread awareness or foster change.

I’ve been reflecting on my personal path a lot lately, especially in light of the challenges a few close women in my life are facing. It has made me deeply grateful for the women who helped shape me—those who, like lamp posts in the dark, held up a light just when I needed it most.

I’ve often spoken about the fog—the uncertainty, the confusion, the feeling of being lost. At times, it felt like nothing was clear, and the path ahead was veiled. But every time I’ve found myself lost, I’ve been guided by women who carried their light. These women didn’t just show me the way; they shone through the fog, their presence a beacon that led me forward, offering clarity when I needed it most.

I am thankful for my mother. She broke many cycles for her children, showing me what strength looks like and instilling in me high standards, a strong work ethic, and a drive to succeed. Yet, for all she broke, she also passed down family trauma and patterns I had to learn to dismantle. In a strange and twisty way, that too was a blessing. It forced me to become conscious of what I carried, to decide what was mine to keep and what needed to be left behind.

Because of the way my life unfolded, I met many strong and wonderful women—cycle breakers in their own right. These women appeared always at the right time, guiding me through the fog.

To my foster mother, who tried so hard to build a relationship with me—thank you for putting in the work. It wasn’t easy, but you never gave up. You helped prepare me for my role as a step-parent and showed me that healthy relationships were possible, even when I didn’t yet know how to create one.

To my friend in Quasqueton, who taught me how to have fun but also showed me the importance of self-sufficiency—thank you for opening your home and your story to me. I know I didn’t finish school, but I promise you, no one has ever been able to trap me. I always found a way to take care of myself. And more than that—I'm still here because of you. I was so close to giving up back then, but you gave me a reason to hold on.

To my friend from the little golf club restaurant, who was always unapologetically herself and inadvertently set me on a career path that lasted a decade—thank you for believing in me.

To the woman from that same restaurant who taught me that liking your partner is just as important as loving them—thank you for that wisdom. Love can be complicated, but genuine fondness is a strong foundation.

To my former boss, at that same restaurant —thank you for being an example of strength and grace. You showed me what leadership should look like, and your presence was refreshing in ways I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.

To the woman who trained me in my first career outside of food service—thank you for teaching me, for loving me, for seeing something in me when I wasn’t sure what I had to offer.

To my friend in Badger, who loved me when I questioned if I was even lovable—thank you for sharing your pain and letting me share mine. More than anything, thank you for gently pushing me to create. Your perspective shaped me at a pivotal moment, and I carry it with me still.

To my sisters—thank you for letting me watch your journeys unfold, sparing me from learning some lessons the hard way. Your growth and healing made it possible for me to start my own.

I am grateful for all these women and many more. I didn’t feel like an adult until I turned 30, but now—now I get to be the candle for others. The women before me carried their light, passing it down when I needed it most. And now, it is my turn to hold the flame for those still finding their way.

To all who have shared their wisdom, their kindness, and their light—thank you.

Connection to The Star Tarot Card

As we transition to exploring The Star tarot card next week, consider how your journey from darkness to light mirrors the card's symbolism of hope and renewal after upheaval. The Star represents the guiding light that appears after the destruction of The Tower and the illusions of The Moon—much like how the light bearers in your life appeared during your times of uncertainty and struggle.

This Week's Spotlight: Kamilah Joy

Kamilah Joy (@healwithkamilahjoy on TikTok) is emerging as a prominent figure in the field of Narcissistic Abuse Recovery Coaching. Her impact was particularly felt during last year's Domestic Violence Awareness Month in October, when she courageously invited survivors to share their stories.

As a Narcissistic Abuse Recovery Coach, Kamilah Joy embodies the role of a "light bearer," guiding those who have experienced narcissistic abuse through their healing journey. Her approach aligns with the growing recognition of the unique challenges faced by survivors of narcissistic abuse and the specialized support they require.

Kamilah Joy offers various resources through her TikTok account, including her "Wounds to Worth Express" class and other events. These offerings likely focus on empowering survivors, helping them rebuild their self-esteem, and providing tools for recovery - key aspects of narcissistic abuse recovery coaching.

Her presence on social media platforms like TikTok allows her to reach a wide audience, providing accessible information and support to those who may be struggling with the aftermath of narcissistic abuse. By encouraging survivors to share their stories, she's creating a supportive community and raising awareness about narcissistic abuse.

For those interested in learning more about Kamilah Joy's work or accessing her resources, her Linktree can be found in her TikTok bio. As a beacon for those navigating the darkness of narcissistic abuse recovery, Kamilah Joy is indeed "one to watch" in this crucial field of healing and empowerment.

With Love holding my little candle,
Mia Marie

Lost in the Fog: The Moon and Our Collective Illusions

Lost in the Fog: The Moon and Our Collective Illusions

If The Tower was the explosion, The Moon is the smoke that follows—thick, disorienting, and full of shifting shadows. We know something has changed, but we can’t quite see what’s ahead. The U.S. is deep in a Moon moment right now.

But if we’re honest, we’ve been here for a long time.

The Moon is the energy of illusion—of carefully crafted realities designed to keep us disoriented. It’s not a single lie but a slow distortion of truth, shaping the way we see the world until we no longer trust our own instincts. And for generations, this is exactly what has happened.

Most of us were born into The Moon, inheriting a world where the only light we had was artificial—offered to us by institutions, media, and leaders who claimed to be guiding us but were really just leading us deeper into the fog. And we followed because, in the dark, you cling to whatever light you can find.

The Overton Window didn’t shift overnight. The radicalization of politics didn’t happen in a single election. The way we talk about race, gender, sexuality, class, war, freedom—none of it was an accident. It was all shaped by those who understood The Moon’s power: the power of illusion, of slow manipulation, of making the unacceptable seem reasonable and the reasonable seem extreme.

For example, look at how economic policies once seen as fringe—like trickle-down economics—became mainstream despite decades of evidence that they only benefit the wealthy. Or how mass surveillance, once the stuff of dystopian fiction, was slowly introduced under the guise of security until privacy became a luxury instead of a right. The Overton Window also shifted in social policies: what was once considered radical, like universal healthcare, is now framed as unrealistic, while ideas that were once unthinkable—such as book bans and rolling back civil rights—are being rebranded as "common sense."

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: it’s not just "them." We all followed false lights. No matter what side of the aisle you’re on, you were led here by narratives designed to keep you in line.

For the right, the light came in the form of patriotism, faith, and tradition—messages that wrapped nationalism in the language of morality. The Christian right was courted into politics under the guise of “family values” while behind the scenes, those same politicians were stripping families of healthcare, housing, and education. “Law and order” was sold as a noble cause while it functioned as a dog whistle for racial oppression. But the left didn’t escape The Moon’s illusions either.

In recent years, identity politics has become its own distortion. Instead of focusing on real issues—like economic inequality or healthcare reform—the right has been swept into a manufactured panic over “identity,” particularly around trans rights and children’s bathrooms. What started as a "genuine concern" for safety has been twisted into something far more sinister: a moral panic about who belongs where, who gets to decide their own identity, and who is truly “protected.” Now, we have people waving the flag of “safety” while pushing harmful policies under the guise of defending children, all while obscuring the deeper issues they’re really working to advance, and it isn't free lunches for your little learners.

But here’s the kicker: The left was played, too.

While the right kept us distracted by moral panics over trans rights and other cultural issues, the left got swept into their own version of identity politics. And, much like the right, many were sidetracked from the real issues at hand. Progress on trans rights, racial justice, gender equality—these are all worthy fights, but what was happening in the background? While we were fighting for protections and equal rights, the right was busy pushing through deregulations, tax cuts for the wealthy, and policies that further concentrated power in the hands of the few.

Both sides were focused on their own shiny objects while the real agenda—the one that harms us all—moved forward unchecked. The issues were different, but the manipulation was the same.

This is how The Moon works. It doesn’t just create division—it creates disorientation. It makes people so overwhelmed by conflicting realities that they become desperate for something—anything—to believe in. And when people are desperate, they are easy to manipulate.

This week, we got a real-time demonstration of The Moon’s illusions at work: the staged meeting between Trump, Vance, and Zelensky. From the outside, it was presented as a show of strength—an orchestrated moment where the two American politicians controlled the optics, selecting press that would focus on the trivial (Zelensky’s clothing) while they postured about leadership and foreign policy.

But in reality? It exposed their weakness.

Rather than demonstrating power, the scene highlighted insecurity. The hand-picked media’s attempt to diminish Zelensky—pressuring him over aesthetics rather than substance—wasn’t the move of confident leaders. It was the move of men desperate to control the narrative, hoping that by shifting attention to the trivial, they could avoid scrutiny themselves.

And then came the real shadow side of The Moon: Trump’s veiled attempt to push Zelensky toward surrender. A classic manipulation tactic—pressure, distort, reframe, and hope the target loses clarity in the fog. It was a political version of an abusive family dynamic: gaslighting the victim while pretending to extend a hand.

But just like The Moon card warns, illusions don’t hold up forever. The cracks are showing. The posturing didn’t make them look strong—it made them look small. And in the process, they reminded us exactly why we need to learn to see through the fog.

This is why so many still cling to the illusions, even when the cracks are obvious. Because if you let go of the only light you’ve ever known, what’s left?

The answer isn’t easy, but it is simple: you learn to see in the dark.

You stop looking for saviors. You stop believing that the next election, the next law, the next leader will fix it all. You start questioning not just the lies that were told to them but the lies that were told to you.

And that kind of clarity is terrifying—to governments, to corporations, to the people who benefit from you staying confused. But it’s also liberating. Because The Moon isn’t just about deception—it’s about the moment before truth. It’s the space between the illusion and the revelation.

And when enough people stop following false lights, the fog lifts.

We’re not there yet. The disillusionment is heavy. But we are in it now.

Because after The Moon comes The Sun.

And that changes everything.

With a little lamp in the fog,
Mia Marie

The Cult of Family: Understanding Toxic Family Dynamics & Breaking Free from Cult-Like Structures

The Cult of Family: How Toxic Families Operate Like Evangelical Sects

I grew up in a family that functioned more like a cult than a place of love and support. Back then, I didn’t have the words for it. I just knew that love felt like fear, that loyalty meant erasing yourself. But when you’re raised in it, you don’t question it—you survive it. And if evangelical Christianity was part of that foundation, like it was for me, the indoctrination ran even deeper. A singular authority with “subservient” leaders upholding the narrative of truth and perfection. The matriarch/patriarch over the children who would eventually grow up to play their own roles within this toxic system—breaking down an individual’s self-worth or self-expression.

Toxic families have their roles, and much like in cults, they each serve to enforce the narrative and the power structure. These roles protect the system, isolate the individual, and perpetuate the dysfunction.

The Golden Child and the Scapegoat: Divine Favor and the Sinner

Cults have their chosen ones and their cautionary tales. My family was no different. There was the golden child—the one who played the role perfectly. And then there was me—the one who saw through the illusion, who refused to submit. I became the problem, the disappointment, the one whispered about in pity and disdain. Much like evangelical purity culture glorifies the obedient and shames the defiant, my fate was sealed the moment I refused to be who they wanted me to be. I was cast as the "Sinner," while the golden child was hailed as the perfect example of virtue and compliance.

But it’s not just a simple dichotomy. Toxic families and cults thrive on having a cast of supporting characters, each with a specific function in keeping the power structure intact.

Flying Monkeys and Prayer Warriors: Enforcers of the Narrative

In these toxic systems, there are those who act as Flying Monkeys—the enforcers, the ones who rally behind the narrative. These are the prayer warriors, the ones who, at first glance, may appear to be the loving protectors of the family. But in reality, they function as gatekeepers for the system, demanding loyalty to the family at all costs. These individuals may not see themselves as tools of control, but they are often manipulated into this role, either out of blind loyalty or the need for validation. They play the role of defenders, protecting the family’s image, and ensuring that any criticism or dissent is crushed before it can spread.

These are also the gossips—the ones who circulate the family’s secrets under the guise of concern or care. They pass judgment, controlling the flow of information and ensuring that no one challenges the status quo. They may be well-meaning, but they still serve to perpetuate the dysfunction by isolating the truth and preventing honest conversation.

The Mascot, The Manipulators, and The Lost Child: Survival Strategies

Every toxic family or cult has its mascots—the ones who distract, deflect, and keep things from getting too real. This is often the “lost child” or the “addict,” someone who has learned that their survival lies in staying invisible. The mascot often minimizes the severity of the situation by joking, laughing, or being the one to keep the peace. The mascot becomes a distraction, keeping the focus away from the cracks in the family facade.

But not all roles are played with innocence. There are also the manipulators—the ones who twist information, create division, and use emotional leverage to keep the system running smoothly. These are the parents, siblings, or family members who actively control the narrative, using guilt, shame, or even love to keep others in line. They dictate how others should behave, think, and feel, often turning even the simplest interactions into power struggles.

Lack of Respect for Boundaries: The Erosion of Self

One of the most damaging aspects of toxic families is their utter lack of respect for boundaries. In a cult-like family structure, privacy and individuality are not allowed. The family’s needs, desires, and expectations always come first, and if you attempt to separate yourself—emotionally, physically, or mentally—you are met with resistance.

Boundaries aren’t just disrespected; they’re actively invaded. Your personal space is ignored, your emotions are dismissed, and any attempt to assert your own needs is met with extreme conflict or hostility. If you attempt to express your truth, you're labeled rebellious or ungrateful. The result is a deep erosion of self-worth, as you are constantly forced to navigate between what you feel and what the family expects of you.

Fear as a Tool of Control: The Threat of Abandonment

Much like the fear-based tactics used in cults, toxic families weaponize fear to keep you in line. Fear of sin, fear of punishment, fear of being cast out—all of these fears are used to ensure loyalty to the family system. My family wielded fear just as effectively. They made sure I understood the cost of stepping out of line. Speak up, and you’re the enemy. Walk away, and you’ll regret it forever. They didn’t need chains to keep me in line; they had guilt, obligation, and the ever-present threat of abandonment.

My mother was strong enough to step out of line in her original toxic structure, and I am thankful she modeled that for her children. This chain my mother broke for herself took a new form with her children. Instead of being afraid her family would abandon her, she became afraid that her children would abandon her. The irony is, her inability to detach from her mother out of apparent compassion or fear is exactly what enabled the behaviors that would drive her children out of her life.

Perfectionism and Unrealistic Expectations: The Unreal Standard

In a toxic family or cult, perfectionism is used as a measure of worth. The expectation is clear: you must meet these unrealistic standards, or you’re a failure. The family or the cult creates an idealized version of what each member should be, and there’s no room for deviation. If you fail to meet these expectations, you are met with criticism, ridicule, and rejection.

In these systems, nothing is ever enough. Whether it’s academic success, personal achievements, or even emotional maturity, you are constantly reminded that you are inadequate. This creates a sense of constant striving, but no matter how much you give, it’s never enough to win their approval. The more you try, the deeper you fall into the cycle of self-doubt and self-sacrifice.

Breaking Free: Reclaiming Your Truth

Leaving a toxic family system feels like leaving a cult. It means unlearning everything you were taught to believe about yourself. It means confronting the grief of realizing that what you wanted—real love, real safety—was never there to begin with. It means recognizing that their “love” was never love at all. It was compliance. And when I stopped complying, I stopped existing to them.

But here’s the thing: They told me I would be lost without them. That I would fail. That I would come crawling back.

They were wrong.

I wasn’t lost when I left. I was only ever lost while I was with them.

This Week’s Spotlight:

Daniella Mestyanek Young, author of UnCULTured, brings invaluable insight into cults and cult-like structures through her personal experience. Known for her comforting (to me) and thought-provoking takes, especially in these uncertain times, Daniella offers a unique perspective on healing and resilience. You can find her sharing her wisdom on YouTube and TikTok under the handles @knittingcultlady and @KnittingCultCaptain. She also has a couple of podcasts worth listening to.

With Love,
Mia Marie