Fighting Curses with Blessings

Sleeping curses, killing curses. Hexes and black magic used to maim and hurt, to take away another’s happiness, to crush hope.

I’ve always thought they only existed in fairy tales. In real life, though, I see curses as metaphors for some misfortune, calamity, or hardship in a person’s life—alcoholism, marriage problems, illness, anger issues.

But is it possible to be under a REAL curse that is instigated by someone’s petty jealousy and hatred? Is there such a thing as a generational/family curse, or a hex, or any other type of supernatural ill-willed wish to harm another?

When my brother was a baby, a terrible man who happened to be a distant relative, cursed my brother out of spite and jealousy. My brother grew up to be autistic.

I overheard a conversation that the same terrible people may have cursed the women in my family to never be able to find love. More than half of my aunts have never married, nor have they experienced love.

The fact that I’m feeling like I’m traveling down the same road is disheartening. I go through cycles of despair when I think about it.

So are curses real?

I don’t know the answer to this, but I do know this:

  1. People can be terrible.
  2. Words are powerful.

Throughout my entire almost thirty years of life, I’ve never been in a relationship. All the guys I liked merely used me to fulfill their emotional needs without making any commitments. I was great as a substitute girlfriend until the real one came along, and they abandoned me, leaving my heart filled with turmoil and no sense of closure. I’ve cried myself to sleep over most of them.

So yes, sometimes I do feel cursed. Some days, the weight of evil words said by mean people threatens to topple me over with a cannon filled with lies, trying to get me to believe that I’m not good enough, not pretty enough, that something must be wrong with me.

It feels unfair when I see another girl ten years younger than me get a boyfriend so easily, when another friend gets engaged, when it seems like other girls don’t have to do anything, and all the guys go running to them instantly.

And I feel my heart clenching with bitterness, that same envy the Evil Queen must have harbored towards Snow White, the resentment Maleficent must have had when she cursed Sleeping Beauty. I feel more like Cinderella’s stepsisters and less like Cinderella, the jealousy drowning out kindness. And there’s nothing I’d like to do more than curse those who have cursed me, but even worse, lash out at those who have what I want.

But then I’ve come to realize, if I allow myself to become blackened like those who have cursed me, then the curse has won. I don’t want the curse to triumph. I want to break the evil spell, to lift the curse away and emerge a victorious heroine of my own story.

People are terrible. I don’t have to be.

Words are powerful. My words are just as powerful. My words can be MORE powerful.

Instead of cursing, I can bless. I can fight cruel curses by bestowing beautiful blessings. I can choose to bless others. I can choose to laugh in the face of those terrible relatives. They believed they could bring innocent people down with their ugly words…

but I believe the power of my own bold, beautiful words can erase the foul-odor of their curses and whatever else they have thrown at me.

And what I think about myself has far greater value than anything anyone else says about me.

I choose not to be cursed. More importantly, I choose to be blessed, and TO bless.

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