Welcome to the Tome
This is not content. It’s memory, ritual, and resonance—written in bone.
You’ve found the edge of something.
Not a blog.
Not a brand.
A threshold.
This is The Tome—an archive of lived myth, erotic memory, trauma unshackled, and language carved from the bone of survival. I don’t write here to entertain. I write here to remember. To offer pieces of a map I had to build while walking through the fire.
Some of these pages are soft. Some of them are savage.
Some will make you weep. Others may make you look away.
But if you’re here, I trust that something in you already knows why.
What This Is
A living record of spiritual trauma, erotic collapse, survival, reformation, and sovereign remembering
An invitation to those who’ve never quite belonged—not in religion, not in therapy, not even in their own skin
A mirror for the ones who know that healing doesn’t always look clean—and arousal doesn’t always feel safe
This isn’t clinical.
It’s not curated for Instagram.
It’s what happens when someone decides:
“I’d rather write in blood than pretend I’m fine.”
What You’ll Find
First-person memoirs of intense lived experiences
Reflections on arousal and shame, spiritual recovery, and erotic reclamation
Threads of philosophy, myth, psychology, and embodiment
Occasional sacred irreverence. (You’ve been warned.)
What This Is Not
Advice
A guidebook
A place for easy answers
If you’re here to fix yourself, I gently invite you to burn that question instead.
This space is not here to repair you. It’s here to hold you while you remember.
Want to Reach Out?
If you want to share your own story…
If you want to say “Me too,” and mean it…
If you just need someone real to tell you “You’re not broken”
You can write me: author@mythicmind.life
I read everything.
Even in silence.
You’ve opened The Tome.
Now let the silence read you back.
— The Author
Mythic Mind Disclaimer™
This is not a safe space.
It’s a real space—where wit walks beside wound, and soul meets shadow.
Where sacred truths sometimes wear sarcasm, and reverence shares a drink with irreverence.
Side effects may include:
Tears. Laughter. Repressed memories.
Existential tingling. Erotic flashes. Sudden clarity.
Occasional eye contact with your own damn soul.
I don’t offer fixes.
I don’t hold punches.
I offer presence—honest, imperfect, and sometimes hilarious.
If something stings, sit with it.
If something lands, write me.
You are not broken.
You are not alone.
You’re just finally in the right place.