When They Take What’s Yours: The Hidden Alchemy of Being Copied

Let me tell you a little story.

Not one with dragons and damsels — but something far more dangerous: the theft of creativity, identity, and the sacred fire of your voice.

Someone recently stole my content. Not one post. Not two. Try over 100. Entire articles, paragraphs, metaphors, headlines — right down to the turns of phrase I’d spent years refining. They didn’t copy me. They Xeroxed my soul.

Now, I could’ve gone full scorched earth. I could’ve launched a campaign of receipts, retribution, and righteous rage. But instead, I poured myself a strong cup of Jung, stepped into my authority, and asked:

What’s really going on here?

And that’s when Loki came slithering in.

The Trickster Strikes: Loki and the Apples of Idunn

In Norse mythology, Idunn is the keeper of the golden apples — the literal fruit of youth and immortality. Without her and her apples, the gods would wither into cosmic husks. She’s not flashy. She doesn’t throw lightning bolts or ride into battle on a six-legged horse. But she holds the power that keeps the whole divine circus alive.

Enter Loki.

Ever the trickster, Loki lures Idunn out of Asgard and hands her over to the giants — enemies of the gods — effectively stealing the very source of vitality from the divine realm. The gods start aging faster than a bad face peel, and suddenly everyone’s begging Loki to fix what he broke.

And isn’t that always the way with thieves?

They don’t want to build the orchard.
They just want to grab your apples, slap their name on the basket, and pose for the brand photo like they planted the tree.

The Psychological Fruit Basket: A Jungian Take on Theft

Let’s get into the psyche.
Why do people steal — especially intellectual and creative work?

From a Jungian lens, theft is rarely about the object itself. It’s about identity, power, and the shadow.

1. Shadow Possession

The thief isn’t just taking your work. They’re possessed by their shadow — the repressed, unformed part of their psyche that can’t create, so it consumes.
They see your originality, your clarity, your voice — and something inside them whispers: Take it. Make it yours. No one will know.

What they don’t realize is they’re stealing a shell. They can’t access the soul of it, because it wasn’t forged in their fire.

2. Persona Fragility

The thief’s public image — their persona — is weak. Instead of doing the inner work, they duct-tape someone else’s authenticity to their mask. But a stolen voice always shakes under pressure. It doesn’t hold. It crumbles under the weight of questions, originality, and real-time creativity.

A persona built on theft is like a house of mirrors — shiny, hollow, and always one step away from collapse.

3. Anima/Animus Dysfunction

The thief’s inner masculine (Animus) or feminine (Anima) is distorted.

• A wounded Animus wants domination — to win by taking.
• A wounded Anima wants validation — to be loved through mimicry.

But neither one has individuated. They haven’t made peace with who they actually are — so they slap on your brilliance like it’s a designer knockoff.

Being Idunn: The Power of the Creator

Let me be clear: if you’re Idunn, you hold the orchard.

The apples may be taken. Temporarily. But you are still the source. The wisdom. The keeper of the golden fruit. And no trickster, no thief, no rip-off robot or wannabe ‘astro-influencer’ can change that.

You don’t lose your power when your work is stolen.
They lose theirs the moment they rely on theft to feel worthy.

Let them age. Let them crumble. Let the rot reveal itself.

You? You just keep planting.

From Theft to Triumph: The Inner Alchemy of Reclamation

Of course, the emotional journey of being stolen from is no walk in Valhalla. Here’s the psychological breakdown I went through — and maybe you’ve been there too.

1. Shock:

“Wait — did they really just copy my entire site and paste it into their blog with their name on it?”
Yes. Yes, they did. Breathe. Don’t smash your computer. Yet.

2. Rage:

The Mars-Pluto firestorm. The urge to post screenshots, call them out, and drag them until their Wi-Fi melts.

Useful energy — but don’t get stuck there. That’s where they live.

3. Grief:

Because it hurts when something sacred is desecrated. When your creative labor is treated like disposable content. Allow that feeling. It’s real. It deserves to be held — not suppressed.

4. Reclamation:

Now you take it back. Legally, emotionally, energetically. You file DMCA takedowns. You rewrite your narrative. You own your voice — louder than before.

Because here’s the truth:
The thief may steal your words — but only you can speak them with fire.

Teaching Through the Theft

And this is where the magic happens.

When we experience theft — of ideas, time, dignity — we’re presented with a choice:

• Become bitter.
• Or become bigger.

I chose bigger.

Because this experience reminded me that my voice doesn’t live in one blog post or one idea. It lives in how I show up, day after day, year after year, voice after voice. My originality is compounded power. And yours is too.

Let them copy. Let them imitate.
They’re revealing who they are.
You? You’re revealing what can’t be stolen.

Final Words from the Fire

So, here’s what I want you to take away — whether you’ve had your words stolen, your ideas pirated, or just felt the sting of someone trying to step into your shoes:

You are not defined by what they take. You are defined by what you create next.

And if you ever find yourself in the role of Idunn — standing in the aftermath of theft — just remember:

The gods had to beg Loki to bring the apples back.
Because only Idunn can make more.

And you, my friend, are the orchard.

Storm out!