Single Mums Do Witchcraft
Yes. I said it.
Single mums, do witchcraft.
And before somebody starts clutching their Bible and rebuking me through the screen, I’m not telling you to sacrifice your neighbour’s cat or summon something into your kitchen at 3am.
I’m telling you that if there was ever a woman who needed to know how to work with herbs, protect her home, trust her intuition, stretch £20, cleanse bad energy, call opportunities towards herself and create something out of seemingly nothing — it’s a single mother.
Because, respectfully, we already live like witches.
You are the woman of the house.
There is something incredibly powerful about being the spiritual centre of your own home.
You decide what energy enters it.
You decide what your children grow up believing about themselves.
You decide what gets carried forward and what ends with you.
That is why I think every single mother should have some kind of spiritual practice that belongs to her.
Not something she performs because somebody told her she would go to hell otherwise.
Something intentional.
Something that makes her feel connected to herself, her ancestors, nature, God, Spirit — whatever language makes sense to her.
Because motherhood can make everybody else’s needs so loud that eventually you can’t hear your own intuition anymore.
Your practice gives you somewhere to meet yourself again.
Learn your herbs.
Please.
Your kitchen cupboard is already halfway to being an apothecary.
Rosemary. Ginger. Cinnamon. Clove. Basil. Thyme. Chamomile.
Our ancestors didn’t separate plants into these neat little boxes of food, medicine and magic the way we often do now.
Plants fed people.
Plants soothed people.
Plants perfumed homes.
Plants were prayed over.
Plants were bathed in.
Plants marked births, deaths, marriages, protection, fertility and transitions.
Learning herbalism doesn’t mean abandoning modern medicine or pretending every illness can be fixed with a cup of tea. It means rebuilding a relationship with the plant world and learning what is safe, useful and appropriate for your household.
There is power in knowing what grows around you.
Protect your fucking house.
And I mean spiritually and practically.
Your home should feel like a sanctuary.
Clean it.
Open the windows.
Get rid of things carrying memories you no longer want sitting in your space.
Pray over your doors.
Wash your floors with intention.
Light your candles.
Cleanse however your tradition teaches you to cleanse.
Be discerning about who you allow into your house.
Stop thinking protection has to look dramatic.
Sometimes the strongest protection spell is a locked door, a firm boundary and “no, you cannot come over.”
Discernment is witchcraft too.
Divination will teach you to ask better questions.
Tarot, oracle, pendulum work and traditional forms of divination aren’t supposed to replace your brain.
They’re supposed to make you use it.
Instead of:
“Is he coming back?”
Try:
“What am I refusing to see about this relationship?”
Instead of:
“When will I get money?”
Ask:
“What behaviour, opportunity or belief is currently blocking my financial growth?”
Instead of obsessively pulling cards until they tell you what you wanted to hear, learn how to sit with an uncomfortable answer.
Divination should sharpen discernment, not create dependency.
Your children are watching you create reality.
I think this is one of the most beautiful parts.
Your children get to grow up watching a woman intentionally create her environment.
They see Mum growing herbs.
Mum journalling.
Mum praying.
Mum learning.
Mum lighting a candle because she has decided this month represents a new beginning.
Mum leaving situations that disturb the peace of her household.
Mum making something beautiful after life handed her something ugly.
That’s magic.
Not because every candle produces a supernatural event.
Because ritual teaches us that our choices matter.
And please learn money magic.
I’m so serious.
Not “put cinnamon in your purse and wait for £10,000 to materialise” magic.
I’m talking about combining spiritual intention with actual movement.
Dress your prosperity candle and then apply for the opportunity.
Make your money bowl and then look at your finances.
Pray for abundance and then learn a skill.
Do your road-opening work and then actually walk through the bloody door when it opens.
Magic should make you more engaged with your life, not less.
A prosperity ritual can become a physical declaration:
I refuse to build my identity around scarcity.
And for a woman rebuilding, providing and dreaming simultaneously, that matters.
Build a grimoire.
Every single mum who practises should have one.
It doesn’t need to be some dusty leather book that looks like you stole it from a woman who was burned in 1642.
Your Notes app will literally do.
Document your herbs.
Your prayers.
Your dreams.
Your tarot interpretations.
Your recipes.
Your spiritual baths.
Your family traditions.
The things your grandmother taught you.
The things you discovered yourself.
What worked.
What absolutely did not.
The plants your children recognise because they watched you grow them.
Over time, you’re not just creating a witchy notebook.
You’re creating family knowledge.
Something existed in your household because you took the time to learn it.
Witchcraft isn’t about becoming powerful.
This is probably the most important part.
You don’t need witchcraft because you’re powerless.
You practise because sometimes life makes you forget that you aren’t.
Ritual gives intention a body.
Herbalism reconnects you with the earth.
Divination gives you another language for reflection.
Ancestral work reminds you that your story didn’t begin with you.
Protection work teaches boundaries.
Prosperity work forces you to confront your relationship with receiving.
And motherhood gives all of that a completely different meaning because you aren’t only deciding what kind of woman you’re becoming.
You’re deciding what kind of household you’re creating.
So yes.
Single mums, do witchcraft.
Grow things.
Learn things.
Pray.
Divine.
Protect your peace.
Make your home sacred.
Turn heartbreak into wisdom and wisdom into tradition.
And if you don’t know where to begin?
That’s quite literally why I created this page.
Start with my plant profiles, learn the foundations, explore the rituals and make your way through my Grimoire blog.
I’m doing the research while I’m on my own journey so you don’t have to start yours completely from scratch.
Now go put the kettle on.
We’ve got shit to conjure.
