Mae and Lana are super into astrology. They know their charts backwards and forwards (including “chart rulers” and other exotic aspects I’d never heard of). They’ve also been educating me on mine.
My sun sign is Cancer, which the kids say makes for a good mother (nurturing, gentle) but a generally soggy person. I could possibly tend towards passive aggression (wow, ok, I guess - if you say so,) hypersensitivity and a tendency to feel things deeply - ALL THE TIME. I spend a great deal of time thinking about my emotions and the emotions of those around me, for better or worse. Lana occasionally pats me on the arm and says “Poor little Cancer mommy”.
I have Sagittarius rising, which would speak for my flirtatiousness (they accuse me, correctly, of flirting with everyone and everything; cats, babies, husbands, wives, all the beings), my outward confidence (today I’m wearing pink cheetah print jeans) and my love of center stage (who wants to take a selfie??).
My Mercury (the planet of communication and intellect) is in Gemini. I’m academically inclined, love word play and maybe have the tendency to gossip. That explains my love of school (hand raised high in every class I ever took at any age, I can’t help myself), the kindle that travels with me everywhere (including from room to room), my great appreciation of words and putting them together (evidenced here) and, okay, yes, sometimes I do speak freely of my community when with a trusted friend (a most political definition of gossip).
Adorably, all three of us have our moons in Aquarius. This means that our private selves are observant, detached, happy in quiet. So lounging on a sofa together with books (or silent phones) is a happy equation for us. We’ve thought about getting matching tattoos memorializing this planet placement but can’t quite figure out the image (we did consider a couch but maybe it’s not the most attractive visual for all eternity).
The really bad news is that my Mars is also in Cancer. Mars is the planet of aggression. It’s conflict, ambition, how you show up in a fight. I show up like a Cancer; wobbly and passive and emotional. I’m a lover, not a fighter.
Conflict is, in daily life, one of my greatest struggles. I lavishly skirt it and when I’m forced to face it, I’m profoundly afraid. I’m often convinced of my opponent’s argument and forget my own. My voice shakes when I try to speak my truth in the chill of hostility. I’m a crab without it’s shell, one giant soft target. A fight makes me want to barf - literally, as the kids say.
It also means that being an actress was a predictably difficult position for me. Walk in a room on a daily basis and convince a group of (usually uninterested) strangers of my talent? And get turned down at least nine times out of ten? I’m not built for it. I spent my entire twenties nauseous.
It means that new client meetings are often daunting for me. Believing in my own ideas and worth, being a warrior, doesn’t come naturally. Once we’re friendly and cozy and in the process of design, I’m good. But breaking the ice, showing up as someone that a stranger would want to trust with a project, requires an internal shove (go get ‘em, tiger - no really, GO).
The last number of years I’ve been working on standing my ground without apology, serene and unmovable as a redwood tree (or at least that’s the image my therapist and I landed on). I’ve been trying to move through the world with less fear, spend less time appeasing difficult characters in an effort at defanging. I breathe deep and try to remember that, really, there’s not a lot that can harm me in this later stage of adulthood, at least not in the way my child heart believes.
For the most part, I’m standing stronger. But every once in a while, conflict will surface like a dorsal fin from the ocean’s placid surface. I’ve surrounded myself with kind and loving people in my personal life; if trouble arises there it’s resolved with care by all parties; no sharks to be seen. The only battles that do feel worth attempting are those that involve the welfare of my children. I need to protect my work and my income, I need to show up fiercely to advocate for what I feel is right for the kids if they need that help. And if that battle is with someone less than kind, though I may show a brave face, internally it’s 7.5 on the Richter scale. Everything in me wants to throw up my hands in surrender and say, “You win, just please, please, go away”. But, when I’m fighting for the kids and our livelihood, I swallow hard and face the enemy.
It’s the hardest thing I do, in a sea of challenges (attempting to parent wisely and compassionately, captaining my own business(es), managing the household and it’s often tight budget). It’s the time I most lean on my friends, the time I most miss being partnered. It feels lonely and terrifying and often futile. No matter how hard I try to reinvent myself, my basic wiring is what it is. My Mars is in Cancer. I’m never going to be good at fighting - it’s always gonna scare the shit out of me.
Thankfully, at the end of my day slaying dragons, I return to the treehouse on the hill. I put together dinner and sit on the couch with those gorgeous kids and the beloved street dog, munching and chatting and watching old seasons of Survivor; the crab finally deep inside the safety of it’s protective shell. And so so happily, I put my phone on do not disturb. Go away, scary old world.
Oh, also? My Venus is in Leo. Die-hard romantic. Damn it.
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