Spiritual Ego, Grief & Growth: Untangling the "Chosen One" Trap on the Healing Path
Whew. Okay, what a July.
It’s been…a lot. Grief, bad behavior (mine and others’), collective energy swirling like wasps at a picnic. If you want the messy details—how I handled my mother’s funeral, who I apologized to—head over to my TikTok and see for yourself.
Coming off my hiatus, I’d love to say my time away was purposeful, full of deep healing and productivity. Spoiler: mostly I just survived and gnawed on energies like they were tough cords I couldn’t quite break. Apparently I’m not alone—this month has chewed quite a few of us up and spit us out. Maybe it’s the stars. Maybe it’s just…life. (Or, for the science-lovers, whenever the Schumann resonance spikes, the vibes get dicey—just saying.)
Some of you are thinking, “Mia, please get to the point.” I hear you. I’m still working on things behind the scenes (still not ready to spill, sorry), but I am guided to share some real, woo-woo pieces of my journey. Discomfort included.
I never set out to judge anyone’s path.
If you know me at all, you know I stand for exploration. I “charge” crystals in the moonlight. I flirt with angel numbers. Yoga literally rebuilt my nervous system. I left Christianity—kept the bits that felt universal. I always said: play with your spirituality. Make it yours. (Respect closed practices—don’t touch what isn’t given, that’s non-negotiable.)
But lately, I’ve been thinking about the traps. The tarot readers who sell certainty. The spiritual “leaders” with culty undertones. (If the broom fits, fly it, but this probably isn’t about you.) Having been on the receiving end of religious weirdness in more than one denomination, I’m hyper-aware of how “You are special. You are chosen. You are above” gets weaponized.
Truth: that stuff feels good, especially when you grew up feeling invisible or flat-out rejected. After you’ve been emotionally neglected or bullied by the people supposed to love you—the idea that your pain is proof you’re “chosen” is intoxicating. Ask me how I know.
Don’t get it twisted: We all need to feel special sometimes.
But here’s the paradox (and if spirituality has taught me anything, it’s that paradox runs this show): we are, all of us, spectacularly unique and also laughably insignificant. Cosmic dust. Both/and.
I’ve fallen for the “chosen ones” narrative before. Sometimes I miss it—a world where suffering guarantees you a throne, or at least a place at some exclusive table. But when being “above” others creeps in, so does fear: of low-vibe people, of betrayal, of someone “stealing your light,” of being misunderstood. If you don’t sit with that, it turns into suspicion—usually of people who either love you or flat-out aren’t thinking about you.
That’s how “belonging” turns into separation. That’s how spirituality becomes another mask for supremacy.
My policy: check the hierarchy at the door.
If someone—or some community—claims to be inherently higher, holier, or more “in tune,” RUN. That is the old oppressor’s language, repackaged. I investigate every path, every founder, every “new technology,” because church is everywhere if you know where to look—and the dogma is just as creative. If the founder’s values smell off, there’s usually a power-game afoot.
Let’s keep it simple: be your own authority, but don’t forget everyone you meet is their own authority, too. Even children. Honestly? Especially children.
What keeps me grounded—honestly, it’s my Web of Wyrd tattoo.
That knot of fate inked on my skin reminds me: yesterday’s choices brought me here, and today’s choices shape tomorrow. We’re all weaving, all the time. No one escapes the consequences—not the “chosen,” not the “low vibe,” not you, not me.
Energy wants balance. Spirituality without balance? That’s just another flavor of chaos.
Here’s what I’m trying to remember (and maybe you need this, too):
Fear isn’t always the enemy, but anything that uses fear to control or divide, especially in the name of “healing,” deserves serious side-eye.
If your spiritual path disconnects you or makes you feel superior, it’s not helping you—it’s harming you.
Stay curious. Stay soft. Stay in your integrity. Even on the days where survival feels like the win.
That’s it. No easy answers, no neat bows. Just me—messy, honest, still here, still weaving.
With Love and compassion,
Mia Marie
