congratulations, you're dying

I mean everyone is slowly, and sure, it feels worse when you're hurting, but congratulations: you're still alive. (or: more meditations on loneliness and endings)

the sweetest thing someone ever did for me during a break-up was congratulate me.

in fact, my most poignant endings inspired my loved ones to celebrate my freedom in some way. one particularly bad relationship ended in silence. to counter the sting, my friends cajoled me into going out with them as we drank our troubles away with $6 frozen margaritas. an uninspired situation with an even more emotionally unavailable medical student where the condom broke led to a lot of desperate prayers when my period came late. that too, was celebrated the next morning over breakfast with my older brother, when the red soldiers came marching through overnight. when we left san francisco for our current home, we commisserated but ultimately came to terms with the loss of our former city, and welcomed our new one with our late pup.

in a way, endings are celebrations even when they don’t feel like it.

they usher in a new era, whether micro or macro, and becoming a different person at the end of it? i think that’s worth causing a commotion.

as a joke (also, just curious) i decided to make a list of all the people i’ve hooked up with (and a separate one for those i’ve dated) and trying to discern their zodiacal placements through my limited knowledge. the only one i haven’t clocked in on both (again, this is not accurate at all— just what my poor memory recalls, and based off intuitive guessing) lists is a taurus. maybe it’s because we’re both two different sides of the same venusian coin. it was odd to, essentially, catalogue all the relationships that failed before my current one, and also see how far I’ve come. and how much further i need to go in my own failings and trappings.

maybe i look back on it because i have a sense of mourning for those past versions of me, who didn’t know what was coming. versions of me who stayed loyal past an expiration date, and ones who decided to pick up and walk away. this is why endings should be celebrated. the beauty of what comes after loss inevitably outshines (but this doesn’t mean we forget) the negative.

i suppose it would be best if i used my scientist brain to actually analyse this data, but considering it’s not particularly scientific in the first place: I won’t. it is fascinating data for my own private eyes and usage— but I’m not that deep into it. (says the libra sun against their anchored Scorpio placements) but, as someone who has apparently sucked and fucked my way through seemingly the entire zodiac… there’s no real trend.

but what i did notice while sifting through the list was this feeling of nostalgia, at a distance. i no longer vilify the people who broke my heart, but i also don’t romanticise what we had either. i don’t have anything bad to say about the people i loved with a ferocity because there must have been a reason at some point. they just weren’t the right fit. but you know, nothing hurts as much as pain does when it is fresh. i think it sucks because you sit there, bleeding out of these metaphorical wounds, knowing that there is nothing but time that can heal. over the years, i’ve had to learn that the concept of closure is a joke when it really comes from within. it feels even shittier with the knowledge that you’ve hurt someone else due to your own selfishness. but isn’t that what relationships are all about? a constant calibration and balancing (haha, okay libra sun, we get it, you want to be seen) act between at least two individual entities?

the discomfort of being alone, and being okay with that is disquieting, especially when your brain has a tendency to catastrophise. after years of therapy and unlearning, i think i’ve quelled the fear of my fiancé leaving me, but it’s also because i’ve become stronger in my sense of self, and the things that i want. i ask for the things i want, and i try my damn hardest to compromise when the other person asks for their needs. i’m a work in progress, but it’s safe to say i’m better than where i was before.

as a self-professed introvert, i normally enjoy solitude. i love recharging by myself, and when i half-heartedly make plans with my friends (sorry, y’all, i love you) and they end up having to cancel— i secretly thank my lucky stars. (for my friends reading this: i love you, and i love hanging out with you. please don’t cancel our plans— i genuinely enjoy them, but sometimes my body just fucking fails me. you understand me, no?) but i do think there’s a sense of avoidance that comes with having to see people, especially when i’m not in the right mindset. i’m learning to surrender that and welcome others when i feel vulnerable. by not allowing myself to fully be who i am— warts and all— around others who have committed to being a pillar of comfort in my life.

those are my own issues to resolve and talk out with my therapist, but don’t you feel like that sometimes? it’s hard to rely on people when culture and society dictates otherwise. so there’s a dichotomy i’m learning how to sit with: this innate craving for being alone, but the fear of feeling too lonely, or abandoned. anyone who holds libra and scorpio placements can probably relate to these instincts of teetering towards one extreme or the other, neglecting to realise that balance or compromise is an option.

and like i’ve said before, even to the best of our abilities: things end. nothing stays the same, we’re shedding parts of ourselves and regenerating. it’s challenging to maintain consistency in friendships when life gets in the way. in a post-university haze, the advent of the internet and the abundance of apps and ways to stay connected makes relationships easier to maintain. so i’ve had some practice, but i still need to brush up on it.

the immense slog of living under Saturnian reign for the last couple years, angling for just one more where He is my time lord. (i’m aware this won’t make sense to anyone who isn’t familiar with hellenistic astrology but, you’re here.) His lessons, while helpful, also ushered in some of the most painful experiences of my adult life. i’m not unrecognisable after my Saturn return, but i am stronger, wiser, better equipped to say no.

i joke often that i’m malefic incarnate (due to my birth chart placements) or that i’m a fallen talisman. it’s often in jest, and those who know my reading style are aware that i hold space better than that. but when it comes to myself: i can joke and make fun of myself as much as i want. it’s funny because Saturn’s loneliness stems from His demeanor. cold and dry. i love the Saturnians in my life. they may not be the warmest upon first blush, but they are some of the fucking funniest people i’ve met in my life. Saturn and His children make me laugh.

my Saturnian praise aside, i think the reason i’m mentioning it is because sometimes debilitated Saturn placements don’t understand how to resource themselves. they have difficulty saying no, or perhaps delineating boundaries. therefore, they’re zapped of their natural resources. their baser instincts. on the other hand, dignified Saturn placements (like my own,) might be too good at saying no. no is a Saturnian’s favourite word.

but self-isolation for prolonged periods can be cruel and traumatic. hell, we literally just dealt with a couple years of mass trauma due to a global pandemic. my mentor amaya, often says that we cannot and should not exist in isolation. physical barriers be damned— this whole thing has made me realise that i also need to make my emotional barriers a bit more permeable. our communities, the ecosystems that we live in, barely survive without support from each other. they thrive when we are enthusiastic and buy into helping the collective.

so yes, we might be dying slowly.

but we have each other to at least weather the journey as we get to our own endings.

thank you to my friends who have been super supportive, loving, and engaging while also being patient as fuck with me. i love you. it’s been rough. thank you for being there.

thank you to subscribers. you’re wonderful.

thank you to those who submitted to cosmic catharsis for our oct-dec round. we were only able to accept 30 at a time, but we’ll be picking a couple slots soon. if you were unable to book, or you’re traveling and still want to work with me, my books are open.

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