The Power of Positivity with Santa Muerte Blanca

 Since I began working with Santa Muerte in White—Niña Blanca—my relationship with power has changed in ways I didn’t expect. What she has taught me isn’t weakness, avoidance, or denial. It’s trust. Trust in her presence, trust in myself, and trust in the fact that not everything requires confrontation.

Negativity doesn’t disappear from the world, but it no longer has the same access to me. Where I once absorbed it, reacted to it, or met it head-on, I now let it pass without taking root. That alone has been transformative.

What makes this shift meaningful is where I started.

When I first began working with Santa Muerte, it was through her Black aspect. That energy was rigid, uncompromising, and heavily focused on justice. I was always alert, always prepared, always ready to fight—whether the fight was necessary or not. At the time, that felt like strength. In reality, it was survival mode dressed up as power.

I’ve always been someone who defaulted to confrontation. Ready to defend, ready to strike back, ready to prove something. That posture carried me through a lot, but it also cost me peace. Constant vigilance creates constant conflict. Even when nothing is happening, the body stays braced.

Working with Niña Blanca softened that edge—not by taking power away, but by refining it.

She taught me that not every injustice needs my energy. Not every challenge needs a response. Not every negative force deserves engagement. Positivity, in this sense, isn’t pretending things are good. It’s choosing where my energy goes. It’s understanding that peace is not passive—it’s disciplined.

The White aspect brought balance where there was excess force. Where I once sought justice through resistance, I now understand justice can also come through alignment. Through letting what doesn’t serve me fall away. Through not feeding what wants reaction.

Trust has been the key lesson. Trust that I don’t have to fight everything. Trust that walking away is sometimes the most powerful act. Trust that protection doesn’t always look aggressive—it can be quiet, steady, and unshakable.

This shift didn’t happen overnight. It came through contrast. Through experiencing the weight of constant readiness and realizing it wasn’t sustainable. Santa Muerte Blanca didn’t erase who I am—she taught me how to wield that intensity without being consumed by it.

Positivity, when it’s real, isn’t fragile. It’s grounded. It doesn’t deny darkness; it simply refuses to live inside it.