Penultimate

Old habits die screaming

Witches, evil queens, good wives + lion cubs,

Welcome to the second-to-last week of Summah Camp!

A weekly storytelling series about rewriting our lives through pattern recognition and mythmaking. I thought I could make it through the whole summer avoiding the topic of my father, but as the end approaches, all the puzzle pieces are finally clicking into place.

If you’re new to camp, start with the syllabus then choose your own adventure. I’m the Mahvelous Ms. B — former teacher, current human. I’ll be your tour guide this season as we journey through the deep end together.

This week’s episode is: Arrive. Let’s dive in. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

My Father’s Keeper

My relationship with my father has always been complicated. From the moment I could speak, I became his confidant and his keeper. He was the only person who understood the depths of my mind, and for all the ways he failed me, I always felt seen by him. It’s why it cut so deeply to watch him make such reckless choices that endangered my life and my future.

I cleaned up his messes for so long that it eventually became my identity. Later in life, I found myself drawn to relationships that mirrored those same patterns — men who understood me deeply but used that understanding to gaslight, manipulate, and control me.

When I pulled away from dating to protect myself, I redirected that energy into work, only to find the cycle repeating. I was most valued in moments of crisis and tolerated at best the rest of the time. The same dynamic ran through many friendships, where I gave endlessly yet rarely felt supported in return. In the end, life felt achingly lonely. I was loved by all but held by no one.

Two years ago, a long-lost friend helped me see that it didn’t need to be like that. Their presence gave me the courage to finally go no contact with my father. Not out of malice, but because I needed to take back the mental space to reimagine a new future, heal from a lifetime of putting myself second, and become a person I’m proud of.

Don’t Take the Money

About a year ago, my father sold my childhood home with everything still inside it, took the money, and disappeared. I’ve never been attached to things, but that house was different. My great-grandfather built it with his bare hands when my family emigrated from Ireland, and my grandmother’s only wish was for the house to stay in the family.

Losing the house itself wasn’t the thing that broke me though. The first break came when I finally faced the pattern I spent my whole life avoiding. My father manipulated me into choices that allowed the loss to happen, and I only agreed because I loved him and wanted to protect him.

The second break came when I realized all of our family heirlooms were gone. Trinkets, photographs, and memories from generations long before me were tossed into a dumpster, lost to carelessness and spite. That’s ultimately what led me to Celtic mythology, searching for stories that could hold what my father tried to discard.

Generational Grief

Most people don’t even think about their great-grandparents, let alone spend months aching over the loss of their legacy. I do, though, and for a long time I believed that depth made me weak. I treated my sensitivity as something I had to hide, but I now understand it’s my greatest strength. It allows me to recognize what has been lost, to feel the weight of it, and to carry it forward in a new direction.

When I first introduced my great-grandmother Brigid, I mentioned that my father was afraid of her, and I understand why now. She embodied the most powerful archetype in Irish folklore: the sovereignty goddess. Sovereignty is the force that determines who has the right to lead — it’s not given lightly, and it cannot be taken by force.

In Ireland’s oldest stories, sovereignty goddesses appear at the threshold of change. They test the worth of those who seek power and decide who is fit to rule. Their presence is both a blessing and a burden, because when they stand with you a kingdom can rise, but when they turn away everything can fall apart.

The Triple Threat

Before I introduce the final goddess of Summah Camp, I want to return to my favorite warrior poet, Cú Chulainn. We last saw him with his master teacher, Scáthach. Under her guidance he sharpened both his weapons and his voice, yet even her training could not prepare him for The Morrígan.

Goddess of war, fate, and sovereignty, The Morrígan was a triple threat. She could unleash chaos in battle, change her shape at will, and speak prophecies that determined the destiny of kings. When she turned her attention to Cú Chulainn, she appeared in her rawest, messiest form, offering him the chance to confront her power directly.

The first time she arrived, it was not as an all-powerful goddess but as a woman offering love. Cú Chulainn refused her, and in that refusal, he set forth a pattern that would follow him for the rest of his life. Again and again, she returned, not to make him prove his worth to her, but to push him toward seeing it in himself.

Each time she appeared, she took a new form: a maiden, an eel, a wolf, a crow. Each test revealing the fault lines between his pride and his destiny. It was not until his final battle that he accepted her, and in turn, himself. Mortally wounded, he finally recognized her for who she was underneath all the disguises, but by then it was too late.

His ego had kept him from the one thing he always wanted: the sovereignty to fully claim his power and the courage to stand in his full truth.

I spent the last 33 years shapeshifting to feel worthy, seeing the best in people who consistently showed their worst, and over giving to others who left nothing but breadcrumbs. It was all in hopes that someone would recognize the real me underneath all of the disguises. Turns out, I’m the one I waited for, and now that I can see myself clearly — the good, the bad, and messy — I’m ready to start anew.

To me, that’s sovereignty. And while my great-grandmother wore the crown and provided the tests, I realize now that’s not how I want to show up. I choose to carry the legacy forward by walking away from the wreckage, standing firmly in my truth, and building a big, beautiful life filled with love, light, and hope.

As always, take what resonates and leave the rest. See you next week for the End of Summah Showcase!

<3 The Mahvelous Ms. B

PS. Click here for this week’s mixtape. All her forking lives flashed before her eyes. It feels like the time she fell through the ice, then came out alive. 🎶

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