A friend pointed out to me the other day that I’ve developed the habit of covering my mouth. What are you not telling me, they asked, what are you stopping yourself from saying. At the time I had just pulled the collar of my sweater over the lower half of my face, so I couldn’t deny it. It’s very cold and I was trying to warm the tip of my nose. But was that the only reason for the gesture.
For every word that I do speak, or write, there are millions I don’t. Not everything can be expressed. Some things belong in silence. Some things think they belong in silence, but they don’t. Knowing which ones are which is difficult to discern.
Recently I have been expressing myself more than… perhaps I ever have in my entire existence. It’s been very liberating. Thrilling. Slightly terrifying. Often a cause for self-doubting regret. Should I have said that, revealed that about myself. Will someone use it against me. Take offense. Be hurt. And so on. Why do I worry so much about how my words will affect other people, after all how they are impacted by what I say is their problem not mine, their responsibility not mine. Or is it.
There are times when I think my purpose in life is apologising and accepting responsibility for all the crimes perpetrated against others by my parents. Crimes of an emotional and psychological nature. Yet again, the other day, I had to administer the embalming fluid of sorry to another victim. They were right. They had been well and truly fucked over, but they put themselves in a vulnerable position. I know that you’re not supposed to say that about victims. A victim never asks to be victimised. But this person knew that the water was shark infested before they dove into it. Are they still an innocent victim. Still blameless. I guess they are. Perhaps they thought the sharks were dolphins. That’s okay, I’ll shoulder the blame, someone has to.
Blame was always flying around when I was a child. I used to feel like a piggy-in-the-middle. I got sick and tired of the damn game, reached up my hand, grabbed the blame ball, and walked off to play with the thing on my own, bouncing it off the wall of my padded cell. Everything is my fault, now everyone else shut up and fuck off. And for a while they did exactly that, because I resigned as lifeguard at the shark infested swimming pool, and threw a cloak of invisibility over my padded cell.
I saw an astro tweet yesterday which said that now was a good time to embrace healing, to release hurt and move on. I smiled wryly. People are always saying that. Let go and move on. Forgive and forget. Live in the now, leave the past where it belongs. Don’t look back unless you’re planning on heading that way. Stop blaming your parents, accept responsibility for your life and… And so on. All good advice. Easier said than done. In fact I wish they’d stop saying it, because I can’t do it. I’ve tried repeatedly to follow the advice. I severed all ties with my past. But my past chased after me, hunted me down, and lassoed me. I forgave and forgot. But there are those who don’t want you to forget, because they haven’t forgiven or forgotten, and so they remind you. I do live in the now, but the now is full of ghosts from my past. And I did stop blaming my parents, but they never stopped blaming me.
The other day I had to deal with more shitstormery created by my mother. My mother’s shitstromery was built upon the fuckassery created by my father. My father’s fuckassery was partly in retaliation to my mother’s shitstormery. You get the picture. Sorry about the language used, it’s mild compared to what I’m actually thinking. A friend happened to look at me while I was thinking about the situation. I heard them gasp, and the look on their face told me that they had seen too much, had witnessed the raw fury and rage etched momentarily on my features. I apologised. The thing about which I try to keep silent the most is The Rage and The Fury. Every now and then I rant out loud. But that is just a puff of smoke. This ghost is a visceral one, and releasing it would have effects similar to what we imagine an apocalypse would be like. Or at least that is how it feels. It is best if this ghost doesn’t talk or act… But it watches through my eyes, and sometimes it is seen by others.
The astrology of this ghost… It’s everywhere in my chart. But the main thrust of it can be seen in the oppositions between the 1st and 2nd houses with the 7th house. The self and the values of the self versus others. Oppositions are like see-saws. It’s a pull me push you, push me pull you energy. Chiron and the North Node are in the 7th house informing me that the lessons I have to learn in this lifetime are all about acknowledging others, their pain, their values, their needs. Perhaps because in a former life (Nodes represent karma from past lives) everything was about me and my pain, values, and needs. So there is a shift in the balance of power. Ultimately this shows that I must learn balance in relationships. It’s not all about me, others must be considered. It’s not all about others, I must be considered too. Smiling wryly again. Who is going to tell the others about this. That although their needs matter, mine do too. Me, you say? Yes, I agree, I’ve tried doing that, I guess I’m just not doing it right.
Recently I’ve been told how hurt my father was when I severed all ties with him. I was also asked if I would consider a reconciliation with my mother. Warped wry smile. These poor innocent victims of my cold-hearted cruelty obviously enjoyed playing piggy-in-the-middle with me so much that they never got over my spoiling the game by opting out of it. It’s not their fault, it never was, never is, never will be. I still have the blame ball.
So, Do you have any oppositions in your astrology chart? Do you have any situations similar to this in your life?