I Don’t Believe In Astrology Until It Fits Perfectly And Then I’ll Accept It.

Published / by violet / Leave a Comment

Knight of Swords

It’s go-time, Moonchild. This month requires courage, clarity, communication, and creative outlets. Yes, it’s Eclipse season, and you experience their intensity in a particularly intimate way. Your life feels like a tight shell: brittle and no longer large enough to contain the next version of you. Instead of staying in that too-small space, use this month’s cosmic surge to bust out of outmoded beliefs and habits by taking action. It starts when you move towards what deserve with determination.

Sometimes, when you focus on where you’d like to go, grief, disappointment, and self-betrayal cloud your vision. Old experiences and betrayals well up like a storm that causes you to freeze. In May, don’t take the bait. The past has passed. Leave it there.

When you put yourself first, it can feel unnatural. An unwavering commitment to reciprocal care and compassion will do that to a crab. Uncomfortable sensations do not equal bad or wrong. How you’ve loyally shown up for others is now how you must show up for yourself. Boundaries are often discussed in reactionary or defensive ways, when really, boundaries work best when they are pro-active. Prioritize everything you’ve wanted to create for the last three years. Make schedules. Write that book proposal and make pitches. Reach out to new allies with confidence and charm. You aren’t going back. You’re flowing into a different, and larger life.

Suggested spell ingredients: New and liberating structures, white candles, at least two affirmations that remind you of what you need, the Better Boundaries Online Course, and a shell-dissolving ceremony.


The Fury and The Silence.

Published / by violet / Leave a Comment

Coffee is moving on May 1st (over the course of a chunk of time since there’s no real rush to it) and this has, apparently, brought forth many feelings again. I would like to say that I am handling those feelings with grace and stoicism but, alas, I am not.

Much like when someone dies, there are all the things you expect to have feelings about – I am familiar with this process – and then there are all the random things that you do not anticipate. Can’t anticipate, really.  I know this, too.

The ending of this marriage is the ending of a bunch of little dreams and half-baked plans. The things I took for granted (because that’s what humans do) and the things I didn’t even realize I had planned or hoped.  Everything from renovating our home to taking a road trip to the east coast to the moratorium on getting a new pet to having all of the kids out of the house. The comforts of the daily routine. The comforts of the conversations. The comforts.

It is the end of the backup person. The comfort. The safe place. The person who, for lack of a better way to phrase it, I sort of considered the other half of my brain – who held on to the knowledge that made my life a whole life.  Every time I went to the hardware store, for example, I might realize that I had no idea what size of a thing I needed – so I could ask him and he’d know.  Not just the practical – the everything. The “do you remember..” answer-holder. The “remember that time when..” The inside jokes. The nicknames. The habits. The rituals. The routines. The other half of all of my experiences, even if he wasn’t there, for the last 20 years. The person I told everything to. The first person I went to with my happy news, my sad news, my joy. Gone.

I suppose part of what happens now is that I learn to trust myself. I learn to make mistakes and undo them. I fuck around and find out. I replace that backup person with a better note-taking system.  I find ways to comfort myself. I find ways to make those memories less excruciating. I find new adventures to daydream about.

Despite all that is happening – the divvying up, the packing, the deposit paid for the new apartment and the key readied, the removal of his belongings from the bedroom/office, the discussions about finances and paperwork, the change of insurance, and on and on – I still don’t fully believe this is happening.

My fury has nowhere to go. My sadness has nowhere to go. My fears and anxieties have nowhere to go. My WTF has nowhere to go.  It all just sits there, staring me down.  I keep bursting into tears. I can’t sleep for more than an hour or two and it is making me even less resilient. I feel like there’s absolutely  no point to anything. I’m trying to stay afloat. I am trying to trudge forward. I am trying to give a fuck about anything at all.

Sometimes it is okay. Mostly it is not.

I remember grief. I know this is grief. I know the grey will lift. I know the colours will come back. I know it will ease. I know it will change and be different. I know it will never fully be gone but it will stop being the giant wall in front of my face. I know that I will be okay, one way or another, in a way that I can’t yet visualize. I know I will solve things. I know I will muddle through. I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I just don’t fucking want to. And I don’t have any choice about it.

I am alone in this world. I mean, we all are, ultimately, right? But I thought he was my person and I was wrong. I thought I could count on him to always be there and I was wrong. What do I do with this aloneness?


Welcome Back.

Published / by violet / Leave a Comment

On Saturday, I was completely and utterly overwhelmed by missing my Dad. I cried about it in a way that I haven’t cried in years. Just soul-deep.  Ache.

On Sunday, Coffee was sorting and packing a bunch of his stuff and came across the small container of my Dad’s ashes.

Those ashes have been missing for almost 10 years. I have looked for them endlessly – in every single possible spot. Drawers, cupboards, boxes, bins. Places that I wouldn’t have put them in a million years. Re-checked places over and over and over.  Put it out of my head and then.. one day started looking all over again. Repeat. Repeat. Ten years.

I was mostly convinced that one of the kids must have taken them – the container they’re in resembles a flask and it is unlabelled (nothing to identify who, or what, is inside). I asked them and they denied it. But both of them have a history of .. removing things.. and I couldn’t think of any other possibility.  I figured I’d never see them again. I tried to make peace with that.

And now my Dad is back. Well, you know what I mean. He’s sitting on the desk next to me right now. I have started looking for a pendant that I can put some of the ashes into and wear. His wedding ring has been too big for me for a while now – I used to wear it every day. I don’t want to have it made smaller, even though he actually had it enlarged and there is a small space that, if removed, I’m pretty sure would make it fit me again.

I am so overwhelmed by the timing of this. So grateful. SO grateful.


Published / by violet / Leave a Comment

I was walking to the parking garage after work yesterday, carrying two small jars with some plant cuttings in them. One of my friends gave them to me after noticing how well my office plants are doing – she suggested that these might root quickly. I am, however, out of space on my window ledge so decided to bring them home to put under my grow lights for a bit.  (I intend to shuffle some work plants to home, re-home a few to friends, etc., but am waiting for the weather to be warmer.

As I was walking, I had an overwhelming feeling like when I was a little kid – carrying a tiny plant in a tiny jar – and it made me smile and cry at the same time. I don’t know how to better explain that. It was weird and nice.

Related, nearly every plant I have in my possession at this point is budding, blooming, growing new shoots, or otherwise thriving. Even my Christmas Cactus is full of new buds which is wild, given how recently she finished her winter bloom.  Honestly, I’m not sure how my indoor plants, under lights and temperature controlled, know that it’s spring.. but it’s pretty great.  (I realize that I have just jinxed that.)