Brains & Broomsticks: What Happens When a Psychology Nerd Practices Witchcraft?

By day, I work with psychology. Counseling psychology, to be exact — rooted in science, theory, and ethical frameworks. By night (or rather, by moonlight), I pull tarot cards, stir intention into my tea, and cast quiet spells that feel like little poems to the universe. And no, this isn’t a contradiction.

But before we go any further, let me make one thing very clear: in my professional work as a psychological counselor and mental health expert, these two worlds remain separate — as they should. Just like a psychotherapist can be a Christian, a Buddhist, or even a nihilist without blending personal belief into clinical practice, I do not “treat” anyone with witchcraft. My clients deserve evidence-based, respectful, and ethically sound support, because that is what they come for — and that’s what they get. Full stop.

But in my private life? That’s where the cauldron bubbles.

Where Science Ends and Spirit Begins (Or Do They?)

In truth, I never set out to mix the two. Psychology and witchcraft entered my life on different frequencies: one through formal education, textbooks, supervision, and deep intellectual inquiry; the other through intuition, ritual, and ancestral whisperings I couldn’t ignore. Since a very young age , however, I started to notice the quiet overlap. A mindfulness practice taught in therapy — and a grounding spell I’d learned years ago. A client describing their struggle with boundaries — and my own experience of casting a protective circle to hold emotional space. I wasn’t blending the practices professionally, but in my own healing work, the lines were never rigid.

Witchcraft for me, was always a way to ritualize what I was intellectually understanding. Psychology gave language to things I’d always felt as an energy worker. Together, they created a richer vocabulary for self-awareness

.

A Spell is a Metaphor is a Technique

Let’s talk crossover. Not confusion. Not contradiction. Not in a let’s-throw-it-all-together” kind of way.

More like echoes — the way two different songs can hit the same note at just the right time. A way that honors both science and symbolism. Because sometimes, a ritual isn’t “just woo.” It’s psychology in poetic form.

Some examples? When I feel overwhelmed, I write my fears down and burn the paper. Yes, I literally set it on fire — safely, intentionally, ceremonially.

Witchy? Sure.But from a clinical perspective, that’s known as externalization, a concept used in narrative therapy (White & Epston, 1990). By putting your thoughts outside of your body, you reduce their emotional charge. The burn? That’s symbolic release — a form of embodied cognition that helps the brain feel closure, even when the problem itself is unresolved.

Or during new moons, I often journal around questions like “What am I ready to welcome in?” and “What matters most right now?” This is simple self-reflection and mirrors values clarification — a key component of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), developed by Steven C. Hayes. ACT uses this process to help people make committed choices based on personal values rather than fear or avoidance. In other words: setting intentions isn’t just mystical. It’s motivational psychology at work.

Also, Shadow work — that beautiful, messy dive into the parts of ourselves we’ve pushed into the dark — isn’t just witchy introspection. Psychologically, it parallels parts work (like Internal Family Systems by Richard C. Schwartz) or schema therapy (Young et al.). Both approaches involve identifying internal roles and belief systems that were once protective but may no longer serve us. Carl Jung called this the integration of the “shadow,” and modern neuroscience backs this up: when we bring awareness to avoided emotions or fragmented identities, we reduce their unconscious grip on behavior (Siegel, 2007).

In shamanic traditions, there’s a practice called soul retrieval — a guided journey to reclaim lost or fragmented parts of the soul that have dissociated due to trauma or overwhelming life experiences. The shaman “travels” to locate these missing pieces and bring them back to the person, aiming for wholeness and healing. This is strikingly similar to shadow work, parts integration and trauma work in psychology. Both acknowledge that trauma can fracture the self, and healing requires gentle, intentional reclamation and reintegration of those lost or disowned parts.

Neuroscience supports this too: reintegration helps restore emotional regulation and coherence in brain networks (Siegel, 2007).So whether you’re on a shamanic journey or sitting with your shadow in therapy, the core work is the same — retrieving and honoring the parts of you that make you whole.

Shamanic techniques in general — like journeying, visualization, or meeting symbolic guides — overlap with guided imagery, hypnotherapy, and active imagination in Western psychology, all of which have empirical support for emotional processing, trauma work, and nervous system regulation.

And reframing? In spellwork, we rewrite the narrative, speaking new truths into existence. In cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), this is cognitive restructuring — changing the interpretation of an event to shift its emotional impact (Beck, 1976). It’s not magic — it’s the neuroscience of thought shaping feeling, shaping behavior.

These aren’t contradictions — they’re complementary layers. When I work with both lenses, I’m not abandoning logic for incense. I’m combining two ways of knowing: the measurable and the meaningful. The spell and the study. The ritual and the research.

And honestly? That’s where I feel most at home — where complexity is welcome, and healing doesn’t have to choose a side.

Owning Both Worlds

I know some people will raise eyebrows. Some think witchcraft discredits science. Others think psychology sterilizes the soul. I think those people are stuck in binaries.

We are complex creatures. Why shouldn’t our healing be, too? I’m not asking anyone to believe what I believe. I’m not saying everyone should charge their crystals or read Carl Jung by candlelight. What I am saying is this: My personal healing is most potent when I allow all my wisdoms to speak — the empirical and the intuitive, the studied and the inherited.

And isn’t that what modern mysticism is about? Owning your truth. Claiming your whole self. Saying yes to nuance, yes to contradictions, yes to complexity.

Final Thoughts (and a Note on Ethics)

Just to re-emphasize: none of what I do personally bleeds into my professional work without explicit request, consent, and relevance. Mental health support must always be safe, inclusive, and evidence-based.

But here, in this corner of the internet — in The Urban Witch blogazine — I give myself permission to share the in-between spaces. The sacred overlaps. The rituals that feel like home. So no, I don’t think being a counselor and a witch is contradictory. I think it’s alchemical.

------------------

References

• Beck, A. T. (1976). Cognitive Therapy and the Emotional Disorders. International Universities Press.

• Hayes, S. C., Strosahl, K., & Wilson, K. G. (2012). Acceptance and Commitment Therapy: The Process and Practice of Mindful Change. Guilford Press.

• Jung, C. G. (1959). Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self. Princeton University Press.

• Schwartz, R. C. (1995). Internal Family Systems Therapy. Guilford Press.

• Siegel, D. J. (2007). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company.

• White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends. W. W. Norton & Company.

• Young, J. E., Klosko, J. S., & Weishaar, M. E. (2003). Schema Therapy: A Practitioner's Guide. Guilford Press.