Mercury seemed to go direct with a bang last week. In Aquarius, so traveling through my seventh house of relationships, and I ask myself, what have I learned and how do I apply what I have learned, as certainly I am feeling tested now.
My 24 year old house mate had a medicinal abortion last weekend. We blessed the pills before she swallowed the tabs, praying for an easy passage and a swift return to health. The day was spent monitoring her bleeding, cramps and nausea. We went for second vaginal ultrasound yesterday, getting the proverbial all clear.
My 32 year old soul sister showed up unexpectedly at the same time, in crisis over her deep urge to have a baby and her partner’s current ambivalence. We drove up and down the cliffs while she sobbed her heart out; I spoke my truths, advocated for her partner and in particular for his child, listened & offered sisterly advice. While some discussion has since ensued between them, it has been a long week of un satisfying phone conversations, and they still have much work ahead of them.
My kid is sick with a stomach bug, and I worry at the dark circles under her eyes. I always wonder what is really going on in her heart and mind. My therapist says she’s too busy growing up right now to process the crisis of the last year, and that later, in her twenties she’ll look back at this time. Sigh. Five more bucks in therapy jar.
I find myself in my usual pattern of running away to work, where I find solace in keeping the post it notes in order, archiving files, and creating more efficient lists. It’s nice to have an area where I feel in control, even if it’s just sorting the tacks from the paper clips. Chaos to order. Chaos to order.
I’m not completely compulsive-obsessive, and actually have been productive in my workaholic binge, mailing out fliers, updating records, doing my taxes, clearing my desk, making way for prosperity. In reviewing my past relationships I have come across a ton of old Herland material, which I’ll continue posting on the herlandbabes blog.
I was diagnosis with depression at fifteen—which runs in my family—a label I try hard not live up to. At this point I feel I have narrowed it down to feeling S.A.D - Seasonal Affective Disorder - and instead of 365 days of the year, I get depressed for 28, 29 on leap years. Yes, I am talking about February. Everyone who really knows me knows that I have a terrible time in February, and do everything I can to wait out the storm.
St. John’s Wort, allowing myself tons of sleep (12-14 hours) and living in sunny California have literally saved me from suicide or prozac. Meditating, masturbating, eating whatever I want to and when I want to, blogging, and processing my feelings with my close friends have all been beneficial to my mental well being. I have been doing acupuncture weekly to combat my left over bronchitis; chiropractic and massage on a monthly maintenance schedule (Amber too); and quite simply, both self hypnoisis and reiki have changed my world.
And while this has easily been one of my best years ever, I can’t wait for this day to be over. Understand, in Santa Cruz, March 1 means Spring. Which, in California means Summer. Sure, it will rain some more and be blustery here and there, but it will be lighter later in the evenings, the buds will be blooming, and hot days will start outnumber the cold. I’ll want to exercise my body again, work in the garden, be social, and generally emerge from hibernating in my cave. And for next eleven months I’ll be in paradise, with another February behind me for a whole year.