I Was Built to Rebuild

Before my religious friends start clutching their Bibles, let me just say this:

 I know. I know. 

Some of you are about to tell me that astrology is nonsense, that God created the heavens, that the stars aren’t supposed to be worshipped, and that I need to repent immediately.

Everybody take a breath. 😂I’m not worshipping Saturn.

I’m just saying that maybe, just maybe, where we were positioned in this enormous universe at the exact moment we entered it isn’t completely irrelevant to who we become. Because here’s the thing:

The cosmos absolutely affects us.

The moon controls the tides. The sun gives us light and warmth and makes life on Earth possible. The Earth’s position in relation to the sun determines our seasons. Our entire biological existence is happening inside a giant cosmic system that is constantly moving, shifting, and interacting around us.

So the idea that the heavens might have some kind of influence on us isn’t exactly an outrageous concept. And if you’re a nurse who has worked a few full-moon night shifts, you already know where I’m going with this. 😂

Don’t tell me you’ve never heard a nurse say: “Oh shit. It’s a full moon tonight.” And suddenly everyone knows they’re in for it. The call lights won’t stop. The ER is going to be packed. Everybody’s acting crazy. Nobody is sleeping. The babies are restless. The patients are restless. The staff is restless. And somebody inevitably says:

“It’s the full moon.”

Now, scientifically speaking, the evidence for a full moon causing people to become temporarily insane is much less convincing than the folklore would have us believe. But isn’t it fascinating that humans have been looking up at the same moon for thousands of years and noticing patterns in ourselves, our environment, our behavior, and our lives?

And that’s where astrology gets interesting to me.

I’m not claiming that the planets are controlling my decisions. I’m not saying Mars made me send that text. I’m saying I find it fascinating that the exact moment we enter this world can be mapped against the sky, and that those patterns can sometimes feel remarkably reflective of who we are.

Call it astrology. Call it symbolism. Call it coincidence. Call it bullshit if you want. I’m not particularly interested in arguing about the label. I’m interested in what it tells me about me. Because when I look at my chart, I see a combination that makes an almost ridiculous amount of sense.

Sun Taurus.
Moon Capricorn.
Sagittarius Rising.

And suddenly, so much of my life makes sense. I am, in every possible way, a textbook Taurus.

Stubborn as hell. Loyal beyond reason. Protective of the people I love. Determined to the point of occasionally becoming completely unreasonable. And when I decide something matters to me?

Good luck moving me.

I will plant my feet so firmly in the ground that the Earth itself may eventually have to negotiate with me. But Taurus isn’t just stubborn. Taurus is endurance. It is the ability to survive the winter believing spring will eventually come. And I’ve had some winters. I’ve lost people who mattered to me. I’ve said goodbye to people I wasn’t ready to lose. I’ve watched relationships fall apart. I’ve made choices that hurt people I loved and lived with the consequences. I’ve been hurt by people I trusted. I’ve had to start over in ways I never imagined. There have been times when I genuinely didn’t know what came next. And yet somehow, I always found a next.

That’s where I think my Capricorn Moon comes in. Because emotionally, apparently I was issued a tiny exhausted project manager. I can fall apart. I absolutely can. I can cry until my face hurts. I can have a spectacular emotional meltdown. I can sit in my own misery and think, Well, this is fucking terrible. But eventually that Capricorn Moon taps me on the shoulder and says:

“Okay. We’ve cried. Now what?”

And that’s when I start putting the pieces back together. And yeah, I might be scared, or hurt. Sometimes situations and people hurt me more deeply than anyone realizes. But I’ve learned that pain doesn’t get to make all of my decisions.

I figure out what can be saved. I let go of what can’t. I learn what I need to learn. And I keep moving.

And then there’s my Sagittarius Rising.

Which is probably the reason I haven’t completely lost my mind. Because underneath all that earth is a whole lot of:

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Sagittarius doesn’t want to sit around staring at the ruins forever. Sagittarius wants to know what’s over the next hill. What’s next? Where can I go? What can I learn? Who can I become? What ridiculous idea can I turn into an actual plan? And honestly, that part of me has gotten me into some trouble. But it has also kept me moving.

I’ve always had this strange ability to look at a life that has gone completely sideways and somehow still imagine something beautiful on the other side of it. I’ve dreamed about new places. New beginnings. New adventures. New versions of myself.

I’ve turned pain into words and experiences I once thought would destroy me into stories I can eventually tell with a sense of humor.

And somewhere along the way, I stopped asking myself:

“Why does this keep happening to me?”

and started asking:

“What am I going to make out of this?”

That question changed everything.

Because I don’t get to choose everything that happens to me.

I don’t get to choose who stays.

I don’t get to choose who leaves.

I don’t get to choose who dies.

I don’t get to rewrite the past.

I don’t get to undo every mistake I’ve made.

But I do get to decide what I do with what comes next. And every time I’ve been forced to start over, I’ve come away a little more honest. A little more fearless. A little less interested in being understood by everyone. And a little more interested in understanding myself. That’s probably the biggest difference between the woman I used to be and the woman I am becoming.

I don’t need my life to look perfect anymore. I just need it to be mine.

I want the people I love around me.

I want adventure.

I want creativity.

I want ridiculous dreams.

I want a home that feels like home.

I want to keep writing.

Keep creating.

Keep loving.

Keep learning.

Keep becoming.

I want the kind of life that makes all the versions of me who struggled to get here look at this woman and say:

“Well, damn. We actually did it.”

And maybe that’s what my chart really means to me.

The Taurus says: Hold your ground.

The Capricorn says: Build something that lasts.

The Sagittarius says: Don’t forget to fucking live while you’re doing it. Just don’t go to jail. 

So that’s what I’m doing.

I’m building.

I’m healing.

I’m loving.

I’m dreaming.

I’m laughing.

I’m occasionally making questionable decisions.

I’m figuring shit out as I go.

And when life knocks me down? I may stay down for a minute. I might cry. I might scream. I might say several things that would make a grandmother clutch her pearls (not my cussing ass grandmother 😝)

But eventually… I get back up. I’m definitely not always strong, I do break sometimes. But I’ve learned that being broken isn’t the same thing as being finished. I can be devastated. I can be lost. I can be scared. I can be exhausted. I can be completely fucking overwhelmed. And I can still come back.

That’s resilience.

And maybe that’s the most Taurus thing about me of all. I’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’ll keep loving the people I love fiercely. I’ll keep planting roots wherever I decide I belong. I’ll keep dreaming bigger than my circumstances.

And if the universe wants to throw another plot twist at me?

Fine.Bring it.

I’ll probably bitch about it first. Then I’ll figure it out. And I’ll do it the same way I’ve done everything else:

with a smile on my face, a little dirt on my hands, a whole lot of stubbornness in my heart, and my middle finger proudly in the air.

Because I’m a Taurus. I’m a Capricorn Moon. I’m a Sagittarius Rising. And apparently, I was built for this shit.

I don’t just survive my life. I rebuild it. And every time I do, I become stronger than before.