“(Your moon) is in your seventh house, meaning you find security and safety through close relationships and long-term partnerships.”
[What my Co-Star app told me one October evening.]
I’m not particularly into astrology, but that line hit me hard for the sheer truth of it. I do find security and safety through having a constant; through knowing that I have someone who will always be there to catch me when I fall. This is why, when the marriage ended, above anything else, I felt insecure and unsafe. Suddenly the world worked differently—I often found myself second-guessing whom I can call for help from when I’m in need, or what possible motivations a person has when they indeed showed up.
The structure upon which my realities were built crumbled. I wasn’t sure how to function.
It suddenly dawned on me how everything I have achieved in the past five years was only possible because I knew I had my then-husband to come home to. I could reach up up up to the stars because he grounded me in my roots, making sure I wouldn’t plunge unannounced. Therefore when he left, I was untethered—I was afloat, roaming a weird, unfamiliar space of uncertainties.
A friend reminded me that it wasn’t true; that I would be fine and have an equally full life if I could just take the time to find my own center again—this time from within. What he said didn’t change the fact that I did have a pretty solid case of dependency going on. And I worry that I might repeat this pattern on someone else sooner or later—and that I would only get hurt again as they leave me (and I know for a fact that they will, one way or another).
This is why when someone did make an appearance, it scared the shit out of me. I was anxious a lot.
My mind would take me to the extreme ends like a non-stop pendulum: one day I’d be convinced that I didn’t want anyone to enter my newly-formed personal bubble—why bother re-participating in a construct so full of compromise where you’d probably lose yourself again? But then came those bits of magical moments and conversations that made it difficult for me not to want more, and a secret corner in my mind longing to reach a new equilibrium where I could finally feel safe and secure again.
I thought the separation would have sharpened my intuition but no, I’m back to my overthinking, overanalyzing self. If anything, there are more ‘shoulds’ to follow this time around; they often contradict one another—at times it would feel like my brain simply can’t follow.
For example, one ‘should’ would tell me to take my time to heal, prescribing me to sit around a bit more with the loneliness. Instead of running away to the comfort of someone else’s arms, I was supposed to sit down with my sadness and embrace the pain. It’s the only way forward.
And yet another ‘should’ believes that we were supposed to lean in and be honest to the universe about what we want (although they don’t always mean what I need). So perhaps I ‘should’ trust my instinct a little more, and not be afraid of getting hurt because I will be either way.
Not to mention that this person is far from simple. He comes with his own sets of layers of complexities for me to learn and understand, his own history of past traumas, convictions, philosophies of life that dictates their decisions in ways that sometimes clash with what I want (although first I need to figure what I want, which hasn’t been the case).
In Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown (it’s a book that literally maps out the different range and depth of human emotions, I highly recommend it), there’s a chapter about ‘places we go to when things are uncertain’, where she lists the language to call some of these emotions—like overwhelmed and anxious. Overwhelmed and anxious very well describe how I’ve been.
For someone who values open-mindedness, I seem to have quite a high need for closure (NFC) when it comes to ‘partnerships and relationships’ (blame my moon in libra lol). At the end of the day, I function better when clarity of definitions exists, as they would set boundaries and expectations, including when they mean I couldn’t have any.
But as it turns out, there are times when uncertainties just have to be its own equilibrium for a while—for one reason or another. These are the times I need to teach myself to enjoy being a loose hot air balloon, letting the wind (?) take me where I need to be. It makes me profoundly uncomfortable, but maybe learning about this different state of being is part of the journey.
In the spirit of lowering one’s NFC: It’s okay that I don’t quite know.
Stay healthy everyone.