Mom Issues

I went to visit my parents yesterday. I reached out and invited them to meet for dinner. Then I invited myself to use their hot tub. I needed to submerge my exhausted self in the warm bubbly water of my parent’s materialistic love.

It’s not so bad, having parents like mine. I am beginning to understand their frustration with me, now that I have a teenager myself. It’s not easy in this phase of life, trying to balance the holding on with the letting go. I remember struggling from the other side of this, not so long ago.

I think they were expecting a down home “all American girl,” when I was born. I think they dreamed that I would grow up and embrace their very conservative right-wing principles. I think they were a little heartbroken when I turned out to be myself instead. I was born with an instinct towards compassion and a very strong mind of my own. I’m definitely the oddball of my family.

I think the most difficult thing for me is that I can’t just ignore their bullying. I try to let it roll off. It never has. It always weighs heavy on my shoulders and coils around my neck until I write it all out. I hate that I am so sensitive. I hate that I’m thirty-seven and still writing about my mom issues.

Yesterday, my mom actively tried to instigate trouble between my daughter and I. She made a snarky comment about my oldest daughter having to help babysit my younger daughter because of the extra work I’ve taken on. She reminded me that I never had to help out like my daughter does. And I tried to kindly explain to her, that she had the privilege of being a stay at home mom. She was lucky to be completely supported emotionally and financially by my dad. She doesn’t understand that I’m raising my kids with much less than what she had. Her response was…

“Well that’s because I kept my husband.”

I think my dad could sense that in that moment, I was fantasizing about slamming my mother’s face into the pizza that had just been delivered to our table. A part of me wanted to accept her invitation to war. I’ve been working on the conservation of my energy and decided against it. My dad spoke up and advised her to knock it off before I could even say a word.

Mom issues are the worst. Because even though I have grown to expect disappointment from her…even though I can’t stand her condescending bull shit… I still want nothing more than for her to love me. I still crave her approval, knowing that the odds are pretty strong against that wish ever being granted.

I don’t understand why she can’t just say, “I see you trying so hard and I am proud of you.” Why is it so fucking hard for her to be nice?

I sat in their hot tub after dinner. The contrast of cold, wet raindrops hitting my face with the hot steam rising around my chin sent me straight into zen mode. Their hot tub is my consolation prize. It is my warm hug.

I sat in the womb like water and wondered if the warmth would ever have felt so sweet on my skin had the cold rain not been slapping me in the face. Would I be where I am at right now, had my parents not driven me towards a quest to be loved? Would I have found my chosen family, had I not been driven away from my biological family? Wondering can sometimes be a waste of energy as well.

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Transformation #5


I met my ex husband three months before my twenty-first birthday. Venus and Saturn were opposing Mars and Pluto. There had never been better chemistry in the sky. These planets of structured love and intense, animalistic attraction were activating his fifth house of true love. For me, this opposition was revolving around my ruling planet and activating my ninth house of marriage. These aspects didn’t give us a choice. We were destined. It was as if he and I had stepped out of our bodies, leaving space for the souls of the lovers to come through and control our flesh. We lost ourselves in each other. We became addicted to the sight of our young, naked bodies pressed against each other. Our souls felt at home in the comfort of our twisted skins.  We were immediately inseparable. I saw beauty in myself when I was with him. His dark blue eyes and sculpted body that had been recently discharged from the Marine Corps, gave me those belly deep butterflies…the ones that felt like heroine to me. Three months after my twenty-first birthday, those butterflies had turned into a baby.  

Our story is not surprising, being that he and I both have twelfth-house suns that square each other. The relationship literally felt like a dream, like Neptune himself had cradled us in his arms. We were both wildly romantic. He was very open about it. I was not. That was a troublesome combination. Our moons were conjunct each other’s Pluto, so we were magnets drawn into each other. He was my first real love. I had thought I was in love before, but that romance paled in comparison to this one. This time around, the love I felt was real.  

At the time, I was going to school for massage therapy. I was also taking classes at the Academy of Astrology in Lansing. I had a sweet full time gig, working at a furniture factory. I got laid-off every summer, and was able to collect unemployment while I got high all day and laid around, sunning my naked body on my parent’s deck. I had the house to myself all summer and my parents lived in the middle of forty acres on thick Michigan forest land. They had a second story porch over looking a pond surrounded by tall pine trees and scenery that Bob Ross couldn’t even imagine. It was beautiful out there. The feeling of getting baked and walking around the property completely nude was my idea of heaven. My natal mars is in Scorpio, so I am prone to fetishes like nudity in nature and other strange things. That phase in my life was a very sweet time. I was blessed with solitude and allowed to be completely myself. It was the first time in my life that I had any concept of my own identity. I was genuinely content with life and with myself. I had an abundance of friends. My parents had backed off after struggling to control me (as their way to protect me) all of my life.  They were starting to grant me the permission I craved to be more independent.  I had never really dealt with authority well and really seemed to thrive on the new freedom. I was actively working towards my goal to become a massage therapist aboard a cruise ship out on the Caribbean somewhere. And that was the plan.  That’s how I was going to do life. I had it all figured out.

Tim had a job pouring concrete basements for all the new houses popping up in our booming economy. On rainy days, he would get called off work. He would always come over on those days and steal roses for me from the flower shop dumpster next to the new apartment that I had just moved into. He would sneak into my room and slide into the covers of my crappy old futon. We would make love all day long while the rain fell against my tiny bedroom window. It was good love too. His planets aligned quite nicely with mine, though I didn’t know it at the time. All I knew back then was that I loved him. My life was consumed by him. My whole world revolved around him and changed because of him. I had just entered my first karmic relationship as a blossoming, young empath.  This is what Astrologers mean when they use the word ‘soulmate.’  It has nothing to do with a life-long commitment.  It has everything to do with delivering a lesson to your soul.  Tim’s sun was conjunct my North Node, so he was a key player in my life to move me into the direction of my destiny.  And he did.  He became the father of my children and my husband for seven tumultuous years.  He was never meant to be my life long partner.  He was however,  meant to be one of my most cherished friendships.

September 11th happened just weeks into our relationship. The economy came crashing down. Tim lost his job. I lost my job. We had a lot of sex.  Like an insane amount of sex.  He was like a machine and I was a perverted girl who enjoyed it.  By January of 2002, I had found out that I was pregnant. Surprise!  That was one of those days, like the tower card in the tarot. Life as I knew it came crashing down like the actual towers on that fateful day. In just one moment, two pink lines filled in on a stick, and the caterpillar that I used to be, was gone.  I had encountered a transformation of my identity and my perspective on life.  The path ahead had shifted into a sharp and unexpected detour.

I went from being a care-free, unemployed stoner in love, to being a full blown panic stricken mom-to-be. This was how our Neptunian love story played out when the dreamy fog had faded and reality rolled in.  That’s the thing about Neptune.  You never see him coming.  But you certainly take notice when he leaves.  Neptune is famous for leaving dizzy lovers in the wake of his confusion.

I had changed right before the eyes of everyone I knew. Tim, who had once seen me as the love of his life, now saw me as a scandalous female, who got pregnant as an attempt to keep him forever. He didn’t trust me and I didn’t see that until it was too late.  

My dad, who once saw me as the apple of his eye now saw me as a complete failure. He was heartbroken, I think. He had become a father at sixteen. His first marriage was a complete disaster. He had always wanted better for me and I had let him down.  

My mother, who always saw me as an extension of herself, now saw me as a complete abomination. I had brought shame to our family, and to her ego. She made that very clear to me and it was one of the most painful moments of my life.  

I had always seen myself as a good girl with big dreams, just waiting to convert those dreams into achievements in my life ahead. But everyone else’s perspective had fallen over my own eyes and I began to see myself in the same way that they did… A failure. A scandalous, shameful failure.  This was the greatest tragedy of my life, the act of abandoning my self worth for the opinions of others. 

On the day that I had found out that I was going to be a mother, the sun was squaring my natal sun, Ascendant, and Pluto, from my fourth house of family, home, and motherhood. 

 That day changed my life, it changed me. That day was the first couple of steps down a path that lead me to the person I am now.  I’ve had the adventure of a lifetime. But I lost myself along the way, as many young mothers do. I lost all of the love that I had for myself and it took a lot of rebuilding to get that back.  This is my Chiron story, my legacy in this lifetime.

Today, as I begin to write about my life story through the eyes of astrology, Pluto is inching up to that exact same degree, where he will also square my Natal Pluto, sun, and ascendant.

This is a heavy time of deep transformation related to my home and family. Because of the fact that Pluto is so close to my Sun and Ascendant, my entire life has been a series of transformations.  No matter what I have done to find stability, my identity has always been re-built on shaky ground.  

It’s like we’re all given a blank canvas at birth, and a lifetime to color it in. But every few years, Pluto dumps a bucket of paint thinner on my canvas and I have to start my painting from scratch. It can be devastating to watch the life that I had created, slip away into oblivion. But I’ve also gotten accustomed to the gift of being able to recreate my painting with new shades of yellow and rouge.  And I am blessed with the ability, every so often, to paint something new.  

My unexpected pregnancy was transformation number two. The first was a near death experience at age fourteen. Number three was the divorce. Number four was the failed relationship after my divorce. This one that I am currently forging through, however, has me feeling like a Phoenix on steroids. This one is the most intense so far. I am knee deep in transformation number five. I can smell the paint thinner coming, but it hasn’t yet touched my canvas.

It can be scary sometimes, not recognizing yourself from the person you were last year, last week, or even yesterday. But astrology has helped me to prepare for these metamorphoses. And as I diligently prepare for whatever Pluto has in store for me, I smile knowing that my life has been very difficult, but it has also been magnificent. And I probably would have died from the boredom, had I not been blessed with the gift of regeneration.

Fate Is What You Create


I read some old Chinese folk lore the other day, about an imaginary red string that is tied around the ankles of a soul mate couple.  No matter where you are at in life, that red string still connects you to the person you were born to experience life with. 

 I find the idea of soul mates to be completely ridiculous. I actually feel sorry for the handful of women that I know who have only ever been with one or two people. I have a married friend who lost her virginity to her husband. She is in her fifties and has only ever had one lover. What if he’s horrible in bed? How would she know? It seems very tragic to me. I suppose the two of them share so much intimacy, that their connection overrides the monotony.  It’s not my place to judge.  

I do understand the sexual value of an intimate connection. My ex husband was the first person I had ever felt that with. We had ten years together and he still remains the only man I have ever experienced real, raw intimacy with.   He and I didn’t have much in the way of companionship, but we had a very fulfilling sex life. Even after we separated and I moved out, we had amazing sex. We kind of had to ween ourselves away from each other in that way.  Ironically enough, we have a very stable companionship now, founded in coparenting and a mutual respect for each other’s journey.  But we were never soul mates.  

I think I am the only astrologer in the world who doesn’t believe in soul mates.  I mean, there are aspects in compatibility astrology that can signify an intense connection.  There are aspects that point to attraction, love, and relationships.  I can accurately predict if a couple will share a child.  But I don’t see it as two people who are destined to come together and share those aspects.  I see it as a choice that two people have made, and their energy is compatible or not.  But it has nothing to do with destiny.  We all share these aspects with many people.  By that logic, I have thousands of soulmates in this world.  

The belief in soulmates automatically smothers out the idealism of choice.  Life without choice would be nothing more than acting.  The theater is entertaining, but you don’t gain any value from speaking someone else’s words or moving through someone else’s motions.  Free will is a non negotiable in my beliefs.  And that means that in any given moment, we have the ability to choose our own life.  We have the logic to understand that the head and the heart are separate for a reason.  We can feel a pull towards or away from another person.  But we are gifted with the ability to choose.  Love is a choice that you make and not some fated birthright.  

I don’t have some imaginary red string tied to some elusive man who was born to be my lover. I have a heart that has loved many.  And I have a brain that has always known (although sometimes a little too late) when to walk away.  Choosing to love someone is much more romantic than enslaving yourself to fate.  

I see life in much the same way.  Life is nothing more than a series of decisions.  Astrology is a compass, not a destination.

Rumi


“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.” ~Rumi
I saw this quote today and instantly felt as if it had slapped me right across the face. Heartache has become one of my greatest fears, as well as one of my greatest inspirations. I’ve been walking the line between wanting to live in solitude and wanting to be loved. In other words, I don’t have the capacity for another heartbreak in my life, so I avoid love like a child avoids the monster under their bed. I hide under the covers. But while I am under those covers, I sometimes wish someone was in there with me, but only sometimes. I have soaked myself so deeply into solitude, that I fear I won’t ever be able to leave it.  

But this quote isn’t about relationships with anyone else. That quote is about the relationship with the self. Rumi is advising us to break our own heart, repeatedly, until it opens. He’s encouraging vulnerability, to the point where it doesn’t sting anymore. He is challenging us to cut directly to the bone of our heartache infested selves, and then to pull out of ourselves our most terrifying ideas about who we couldn’t be. And then we must fall in love with those short comings.
When a relationship ends, and you blame the other person for everything, the opportunity for growth is unavailable. Growth comes from understanding that it all comes back to yourself. From the moment we seek out a relationship, the responsibility for choosing the other person falls solely on us. If you end up in a relationship with a complete psychopath, that sucks. But you chose that psychopath because there’s something inside of you that needed that psychopath. And you have to keep digging at that little something until you finally understand it. Only then will you be able to grow, and trust, and finally open your own heart.  
I believe that opposites attract because there is an opportunity for growth in every disagreement. We learn about ourselves through experiencing other perspectives from the people around us. We manifest our own lessons. And the only way to stop getting lessons is to test out of them, to rise above them, to annihilate them. Relationships are designed to teach us about ourselves. They are an experience to be had, to be thankful for. They were never intended to hold you forever.  

Stellium Guys 


Here’s what sucks about being an astrologer. My friends always make fun of me because I am really good at relationship compatibility…for other people. But I am really bad at picking out men for myself.  

For example, I knew that my ex-boyfriend was emotionally detached. His Sun, Moon, and Mercury are all in Gemini. That is called a stellium, where you have three or more personal planets in the same sign. Oddly enough, my ex husband had a Stellium in Leo. He was admittedly narcissistic.  The guy I wrote about in a previous post had a stellium in Scorpio. He was very intense. The guy I almost met up with the other night, who called and casually mentioned that he had chlamydia a few months ago and then proceeded to tell me every detail about it for twenty minutes… Stellium in Aquarius. And no, that story will never happen. One time I went out with a 5 planet stellium Aries man. One date was all I could handle.  

There’s something about people with Stelliums. There’s something off about them, different but difficult to pinpoint. Some of these men are incredible people. But there is always something strange and unique about them. And unless you look closely, you can’t quite narrow it down.  I think that’s why I’m always attracted to them. My mars is in Scorpio, so I get excited about eccentric men. But depending on the aspects to their outer planets, some of these men have very serious personality disorders.  

I do believe that these men came into my life, or perhaps I sought them out, for a reason. Dating stellium men has taught me more about astrology than any book, video, or class has come close. 

I was able to feel the energy for each sign who came into my life. When someone has a stellium, it’s like they are an extracted flavor of human. They are out of balance. Their planets and energy are all focused in one vibration that plays too loudly for the other energies to be heard. Any interaction with these men allowed me to immerse myself in the song of their vibration, and those melodies taught me astrology.  If I have anything going for me at all, ‘astrology career wise’ in the future, it is because I am one of the few astrologers who has not only studied the zodiac…I have experienced it.  

If my nerves could handle it, I’d date all the stellium variations and then write a book about each experience. All I need to complete my collection would be Cancer, Virgo, Capricorn, and Pisces. But like I said, stellium men are a lot to handle. The Cancer man probably never leaves his house. The Virgo reminds me too much of myself. The Capricorn guy probably works too much. And the Pisces guy is definitely in rehab right now. 

No more stellium guys for me.

No guys at all.  Venus is retrograde right now in my seventh house.  Or as the astrology world sees it, a time to go back to old love. Unfortunately, all of my old loves are stellium guys.  The retrograde is also a time to change direction with relationships, but I’m not in one.  For me, Venus retrograde is a time to take a break because She rules my sun and rising. She is a version of me, an illusion in the sky. And when she naps, I nap.  

I love how my relationship house has been lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, during the one time in my life where I have no interest in love at all. Old love? No thank you. New love? Nah, I’m good. I’m dead on the tracks while the zodiac train is headed straight for my 7th house. Luckily, my ruling planet is retrograde, so I have an excuse to opt out of this love train.  
Venus retrograde in the 7th is also a time to focus on your relationship with yourself. To move your energy inward, crawl back into your cocoon, and rest your tired soul.  Now that sounds more like me.
When a planet is retrograde, it is actually moving closer to the earth, giving it the illusion of backward motion. Right before the start of the retrograde, in what we call a shadow period, the planet is vibrating the loudest and closest to us.  For Mercury, this is when the electronics and communication get all jumbled up. For Venus, it’s women, love, beauty, and of course, me. And at the end of the shadow period, the planet goes to sleep, replenishing the burst of energy that came with a higher vibration.  
So far in 2017, I’ve started a new job. I’ve settled into a new house. I’ve nursed myself through a big break up. I’ve worked my way through most of massage school. I’ve worried about the health of friends and family who have stepped a little too closely to death. Including my dad, my rock, who had a blood clot in his lung last weekend along with the flu and possibly Cancer. Add to that raising my kids alone, and not sleeping anymore, I am exhausted!  As fun as it would be to get out and frolic among the twitterpated men of Spring time on Tinder, I just can’t!  I don’t have it in me. My tank is running low. And like Venus, I’m going to sleep through it until April 15th. That’s graduation day for me.  It’s also the day that Venus moves forward.  Wake me up on tax day.  

The Greatest Love Story I’ve Never Told part 2


I was trying to feel something for someone, but I couldn’t muster up the excitement. This guy is six and a half feet tall. He is covered in Aquarius and Bhudda tattoos. His eyes are blue like a winter sky. He’s a reiki master for Christ’s sake. But I have declined the opportunities to meet him.  We just started talking on a dating site one day, back when I was living with my ex, post breakup.  

He’s the perfect guy to hookup with. He lives about an hour away. He is terrified of commitment. He has a beautiful penis. I’ve seen it in pictures and videos. And that’s what worries me, I guess.  He has only seen the perfectly orchestrated snapshots of my body. He has a really big idea about a very tiny piece of me. He doesn’t know the girl who flies into work with no makeup on, bags under my eyes, craters in the skin on my nose. And my hair always pulled in an ugly ass bun. He has only seen the side of me with perfectly done makeup and a snapchat filter. I’ve also figured out how to angle my camera in such a way, he has no idea that my stetchmarked, muffin topped belly looks like Freddy Crueger and the Michelin man made a baby. It’s terrifying to reveal your real self, your entire self, to an Internet friend.  


On top of my slightly enhanced photos, I’m also terrified of his bedroom expectations.  I have talked some shit with this guy. He and I had some very intense conversations.  I would sneak out to the garage where my kids couldn’t hear me, and have orgasm after orgasm, just listening to his dark sexy voice say the very dirtiest things through my phone.  The garage was my happy place, towards the end of that situation. Please don’t judge me. I had been held captive for the past year by an asexual man. I couldn’t really date while I was living there.  So I sought out exactly what I needed from the vast reaches of the Internet.  And the internet delivered.  This guy would talk about doing reiki on my pussy.  Could you imagine?!  This old hippie was completely hooked! 


The thing is though, I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect man for myself. The height, the eyes, the mind. His brain is the kind of brain that creeps into the deepest crevices in my heart. He loves astrology so much, he tattooed his ruling planet on his arm. Who fucking does that? My fucking soulmate. That’s who.  

But I don’t believe in soulmates. And I don’t even know this guy. And guess what his fucking ruling planet is? That’s right. Uranus. Fucking Uranus. In my seventh house. And that’s why this will be the greatest love story I’ve never told. Because it’s not happening.  I don’t need this anymore.

The Greatest Love Story I’ve Never Told


The first time I can remember feeling beautiful was the first time I read what it meant to be a Libra. I do believe that moment sparked my lifelong love affair with astrology. There are a million reasons why I grew up feeling like the ugliest girl in the world. But when I saw myself through the eyes of the stars, I was Venus, the Goddess of love.  It was the first time I didn’t feel invisible.  I felt like I was part of something bigger than myself.  Astrology has always been my warm blanket on a cold night. When I can’t rationalize the razor blades of life, when my heart is in pieces, when my foundation is crumbling… I look to the stars.  The night sky pours reason and hope into my empty little life, filling my soul with infinite possibilities.

The fact that Uranus has been in my seventh house of relationships for the past few years is one of those situations. Uranus is the planet of surprises. And every guy I have dated during this transit has been full of fucking surprises.  Knowing that I am supposed to be going through this helps me to learn.  It’s proof that my life is a course in soul evolution.

One guy had a family that I didn’t know about.  Another guy kept up a fake personality for two and a half years, only to reveal his true self after I moved my children into his home.  But there’s one guy who shocked me more than anyone else.  A guy who’s sweet soul still lingers in my bones.  

I met him the day before Christmas Eve. We had been talking online for more than a while and I really couldn’t believe how easily our conversations gushed and poured into each other.  Our correspondence could have been a best selling novel.  He was beautiful inside and out. A red headed, blue eyed beast of a man with a huge gleaming smile. On our first date, he showed up with homemade DVDs of the old Beetlejuice cartoons because I told him my kids loved that movie. He was sweet like that. He talked a lot, but I liked that about him, because I don’t like to talk when I’m nervous. 

Of course I had looked his birthday up before meeting him. I’m an astrologer, that’s what I do.  Of all the things that I had learned about him, his astrology chart had me intrigued like a mad scientist in a morgue. On the day this guy was born, the sun, the moon, Mercury, Venus, and Mars were all in Scorpio. My natal Mercury and Mars are in Scorpio too. Scorpio is one of my favorite signs. The energy is highly intuitive. When two people with heavy Scorpio energy come together, they form a bond that cuts directly through the bullshit and right into the soul. This was exactly how my relationship with this guy unfolded. Scorpio is intense. It’s the strange, the weird, the marvelous!  I knew there was something different about him, as soon as I saw his chart. I was hoping for a ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ situation. That’s not quite how it panned out.  

I have never in my life been treated the way this guy treated me. If he could have afforded red carpet and rose pedals upon my arrival, they would have been there. Every time I went to his house, he would cook an amazing dinner for me, he was an incredible chef.  He had playlists prepared with my favorite music. He had a little silver dish filled with joints rolled up and ready for my lungs.  He made me feel as if his whole life revolved around me.  No one had ever made me feel that way before. It was uncomfortable at first, being treated like a queen. But I’m not going to lie, I got used to it real fast. My time with him was exactly what I needed. He was the first guy I fell for after my divorce. And the only guy whom I have ever confessed my love to first. I didn’t mean to say it. But the first time we made love, it just came out. It’s all I could think about while in the throes of the most amazing sex I’ve ever had.  

The first kiss came the first night we made love, about a month after our first date. I thought it was strange that he didn’t kiss me at first. I couldn’t figure it out. Every other guy I’ve ever gone out with spends all of their time trying to get into my pants. Not this guy. If he hadn’t treated me like such royalty, I would have wondered if he even liked me at all. This mysterious form of seduction had me hypnotized with desire.  His ability to worship me while holding his space was a direct and precise shot into my heart.  I was obsessed with the mystery of him.  It all soon made sense after the night that he slipped a letter into my purse.  

We had spent another long night of getting high, listening to music, and talking. We had finished the last of the series, “The Pacific,” about World War II. I absolutely loved watching that series with him. He had always been fascinated by history and was a living encyclopedia of that war. In a weird way, I felt like he had helped me to better understand my dad’s experience in combat, with his commentary about the show and the backstory behind every character.

When I got in my car that night, I could not wait to open his letter. He had asked me to wait until I got home to read it. I couldn’t.  I pulled into the parking lot of a church down the street and ripped that envelope apart. I began to read his first few words of the hand-written six page letter. My heart was pounding, reading about how he was starting to fall for me. I knew it!  He adored me as much as I adored him. He went into detail about why he liked me. This was his way of proving to me that his words were real. And then he started to write about his childhood. He told me about crying in the corner of his bedroom, wishing his real dad was around to save his mom from the stepfather who had abused his mom.  He told me about the men in his life that he saw as heroes and the men in his life who terrorized his young heart.  And he told me that as a child, he had liked to dress up as a pirate because he liked the way he felt in his mother’s clothes. He told me that he has worn women’s clothes in the privacy of his own home throughout his entire life. He told me that he wanted to look into taking hormones to grow breasts and live as a woman full time. He told me that he wanted to keep his penis. He told me that he had only shared this part of himself with only a few other people.  He told me that he had never been with a man, but had fantasized about it.  And he told me that he would understand if I never wanted to see him again.  That moment was surreal for me. That was Uranus in my seventh house. I was definitely shocked.  Speechless.

He seemed so masculine to me. He wore work boots and a torn up Carhartt jacket. He was obsessed with sports and war and guy stuff. His rough, edgy manliness was what attracted me to him.  

My emotions were on fire. I was heartbroken. I thought I had found the love of my life, only to learn that I knew nothing about him. And yet I was honored that he cared so deeply for me, that he gently tucked his darkest secret into the palm of my hand.  His vulnerability was beautiful and sacred.  
I thought about my family, how they would react to this. I thought about my daughters, how they would feel about it. But what I thought about the most is how much I wanted to hold him. His letter was so full of shame about his secret. I felt an emotional pull to comfort him.  That was all I could feel.  
So I sent him a message…
‘We should definitely talk more about this. But I’m not going anywhere.’

And the next time I saw him, we held each other. We kissed. We made the most beautiful kind of love. I had more orgasms in that one night, than I had throughout my entire eight years of marriage. Scorpio rules sex and connection. And together, we had so much Scorpio going on. It was like we had traveled to another dimension, where we moved through our bodies by sharing them. It was hot. It was steamy. It was raw and real and spiritual. To this day, I have never experienced anything like it. He went down on me so perfectly, I came faster than if I had done it myself. And he slurped it up, swallowing every drip of me he could get to. I now understand why men want to know if you swallow. It’s fucking sexy to have someone ingest the pleasure they just gave you. We went at it all night long, over and over. He cried a little when he told me how much it meant for me to be in his arms. And at 4am, after he thought I had fallen asleep, he got up to scrub his bathtub so that I would have a clean place to shower in the morning. No one has ever taken better care of me.  I have never felt more like a Goddess than I did when I was in his arms.

The next day, I told him that he could wear panties if he wanted. And I offered to let him wear mine. It was a little kinky and kind of hot. He was turned on beyond belief that I would go along with his desires. I was turned on beyond belief that he was so turned on by me.  

I was mystified by this guy. I’m writing this, wondering why the hell I ever walked away from him. There were a few reasons I guess. The first is that old fear of commitment that came creeping back when I had mentioned wanting to buy a house and I could see disappointment in his face because he obviously had thoughts of a life together.  I couldn’t handle that level of commitment at that time in my life. But I think the biggest reason I walked away was that I didn’t want to be the girl who held him back from pursuing his curiosity about being with men. I really did love this guy. And I wanted him to fly. I couldn’t live with myself, had I been the girl to cut his wings.  I wanted him to adventure through this hidden piece of himself, to discover his heart’s desires.  I guess you could say that my love for him was unconditional, because his happiness meant more to me than my possession of him.  I also had some concerns about the effect my family would have on him.  

Though our time together was rather short, his love for me was strong enough to impact my heart to this day.  He set the bar rather high and for that I am forever grateful.  And wherever he’s at on his journey, I often wish him the very best of love and light.  

We were together only a short time after that first night of passion. Life carried me away and he had some adventures to explore for himself. We’re still Facebook friends today. He still likes my pictures.  I still like his.

I saw him for the first time since we split a few months ago. It hurt a little bit to look into his beautiful eyes again.