Before the Fire: How I Became Phoenix Medusa

Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression, spiritual crisis, and suicide attempt.

I won’t sugarcoat it — before Phoenix Medusa, I was miserable.

It’s not a chapter I’m proud of, but it’s part of my story. Every “villain origin” has one, right? Just look at Medusa. I had just left my job as a flight attendant during COVID, and everything felt like it was falling apart. I had energy, talent, and drive — but no direction. The job market was dead, and I was slipping deeper into sadness and self-doubt.

Out of desperation, I reached out to my old manager — the one I left behind when I took the flight attendant job. I basically begged her to take me back as a part-timer in retail as a makeup artist. I’ll never forget the pity in people’s eyes when they heard I used to be a flight attendant. That look haunted me. It stung in places I didn’t know were still raw. I even used my last RM20 to attend a job interview and guess what ? I got rejected. Some moments in life just stick with you.

Eventually, I got the part-time job. I worked my ass off (obviously), and they offered me a full-time position. All the while, quietly and slowly, I was building Phoenix Medusa behind the scenes — though back then, it wasn’t called that yet. It started as Chandelles Soy Wax Candles. A name I hid behind: Chandelles Soy Wax Candles. Because I was embarrassed. I didn’t want people to know I had… abilities. That I could feel things, see things. That I wasn’t “normal.”

And apparently when you’re depressed, you attract a lot of things. Including spirits.

Not exactly the ideal combo when you’re already struggling with your identity.

I hated it. I hated being sensitive. I hated hearing and knowing things I didn’t ask for. I just wanted to be like everyone else. But considering both my parents’ bloodlines are full of healers… I guess that wasn’t in the cards for me. (see what I did there? hehe)

The Turning Point

I met someone — I won’t name her — but she gave me the push I needed to pick up tarot cards. She taught me, and though we didn’t see eye to eye ethically, she served a purpose. I believe the universe placed her in my path just to redirect me. Once she did, it pulled her away.

From there, I started building my own relationship with the cards — in my own way. I took a break from readings and focused on candles. But something inside kept nudging me: Come back. Try again. This time, do it your way. I’m not kidding sometimes I would just stare at the cards for like 30 mins.

I’ve always had spiritual exposure — my late aunt was a healer, my great-grandmother too. My mom still tells stories of her grandmother helping hundreds. My sister is gifted, and so is my mom. But only the women seem to carry this fire. I used to think I was cursed by it. But now, I carry it like a torch.

Even now, it’s still a mystery to me why I chose tarot — or maybe the cards chose me. Out of all the spiritual tools, all the modalities, this one kept calling. And recently, while doing a reading for an ancient shamanic healer, she suddenly told me, ,

“Your hands are gifted. Be careful who you reach out to.”

It was a small moment, but something in me clicked. Like the universe just handed me a missing puzzle piece.

Becoming the High Priestess (Slowly)

I didn’t dive into rituals immediately. I knew better than to play with energies I didn’t fully understand. I read for friends, and eventually for myself. Some of the cards I didn’t even know the meaning of — yet the messages still came through. Intuitively. Clearly. I’ve always known things before they happened. It’s just been a part of me.

Still, confidence didn’t come easy. But something in me knew I had to put myself out there. I still had my full-time job and was building Phoenix Medusa at night. No social life, just work and readings.

I remember a colleague once told me,

“Your life sounds so boring.”

I laughed. But yeah — it stung.

Because from the outside, maybe it did look boring. I wasn’t posting flashy content, or out every weekend. I was just quietly breaking generational cycles, burning herbs at night, talking to spirits I didn’t fully understand, and trying to survive one day at a time.

It didn’t look glamorous. But it was real. And it was saving me.

Then, on February 19th, 2021, I officially renamed my business: Phoenix Medusa House of Crafts.

It felt like claiming something ancient. I started reading for people outside my circle — strangers. It was nerve-wracking, but freeing. That was the beginning of this path.

What Phoenix Medusa Means Now

Phoenix Medusa Houses of Crafts is a sanctuary. A place for the misfits, the heartbroken, the ones who feel like they don’t belong. I didn’t have anyone holding my hand through this path — no shade to my family — but I had to build this space myself. I built it for people like me.

Here, you won’t be judged. You can ask the real questions — the hard ones. Life is brutal sometimes, and this is a space where you can rest before rising again.

I’m strict with my terms and boundaries because this path is sacred. I’ve had friends who told me I’d fail. That no one would trust me. That it was “just a phase.” Some of those people were readers themselves. And now? They’re in the past — and I’m still here, still rising.

Not everyone who finds Phoenix Medusa is ready. Some come hoping I’ll say what they want to hear — and lash out when I don’t. Trust me, I don’t enjoy being the bearer of bad news. But I took an oath to speak the truth. To pass on what I see, what I hear. That’s why I’m tough on ethics. That’s why I cleanse like it’s nobody’s business.

And despite everything I’ve built, I’ve always kept learning. Over the years, I’ve taken short courses, studied different healing paths, and stayed curious. Recently, that curiosity led me to something deeper — I’ve officially stepped into the path of shamanism. I’m now apprenticing under a shaman, and this journey feels like another doorway that’s been waiting for me all along. I don’t know exactly where it’s leading, but it feels ancient, familiar, and right.

A Word to Those in the Dark

If I could go back to that version of myself — the girl who cried in the shower, who begged for a part-time job, who used her last RM20 to chase a job she didn’t get — I wouldn’t say anything.

I’d just hug her tightly. She deserved so. much more than what she had to deal with.

I’ve attempted suicide before. And I’m so, so grateful it was just an attempt.

Now, when I hold space for clients, I see fragments of myself in so many of you. You may not believe this, but I pray for my clients. I cry after sessions sometimes (yes, dramatic I know lol). But I truly, deeply want the best for you.

Not just success. Not just love.

But Inner peace.

That’s why this is called Phoenix Medusa: House of Crafts.

This is the house of rebirth. The house where you rewrite your story.

You don’t have to do it alone.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading this.

Whether you’re in the ashes or mid-rise, I see you.

This altar is yours too.

With love & fire,

Salini

Founder of Phoenix Medusa