Reflections on Neptune and Saturn Retrogrades: I have had enough

Neptune retrograde 25° – 22° Pisces: June 28 – Dec 3, 2022

Saturn Retrograde 25° – 18° Aquarius: June 4 – Oct 23, 2022

Uranus in Taurus: feels like forever

When I was seven, eight or nine, I can’t remember which trip it was, my family and I, with my uncle, aunt, cousin and grandma traveled to two holy places in India, where the Goddess is deeply worshipped. The trips were amazing. I have never felt such abundance. We completed our prayers, felt many memorable scenes and then made the long drive back home.

As it goes with being a young kid, you end up having a little too much fun because you feel like it. On the way back, my cousin, sister and I decided to yell at and scare people out the car window as we drove past them. Not sure exactly what prompted this but the feeling of freedom overtook us as our driver drove through the gorgeous sunlight that day. All the kids were in one van with Nani and the rest of the adults were in the other van.

Despite Nani’s protests, I remember yelling at one newlywed couple stuck at the side of the road trying to fix their scooter to watch out for the snake (saap!) behind them. A couple people lost control of their bikes. But we complimented one girl on her beautiful buffaloes in the distance. In the light, their almost black coats looked other-wordly.

Needless to say, we ended up having not one but two flat tires. After the first flat, the parents asked us to stop in a nice manner for fear of universal retribution. The second flat tire is what truly made us stop because that was a difficult one to fix and we kids believed our work was truly done. As everyone lazily lounged back with their fantas, waiting for the tire to be fixed, I couldn’t help but take in the breathtaking view of a girl across the street tending to her sea of goats in a large field under a serene afternoon into the sunset. That scene has been in the back of my mind forever.

This memory is so vivid in my being right now. Neptune’s Pisces retrograde must be taking me back to a special spiritual moment as I also view how I might have terrorized others as a seven year old (Aquarius). Recently, I found a deep pain in my lower left side has not gone away even after my procedure a few months ago. It has been brutal. I haven’t been able to sit for long in a chair. Most of my work is done on the sofa with my leg up, random other places around the house (I assure you I’m working) or the Panera cushion I can tolerate at times.

Something in me a few months ago told me to see an endometriosis specialist, a type of person I possibly saw in a google search and mentioned in the comments of an endometriosis support group on Facebook I look to at times for connection and then mentioned later on by a doctor in my doctor’s office in a moment of intense throbbing, twisting pain. I waited five and half months to see the specialist at Magee, who was attentive and confirmed my suspicions. It is likely I have endometrial growths in deeper areas of my pelvis and on my nerves. I may need a procedure that removes them via excision instead of ablation. We will confirm with a different type of pelvic MRI where my vajayjay will be injected with gel (God help me).

I am relieved but devastated. I am always devastated. Everything comes back to me – the missed opportunities, fun and moments I could have had without this wretched disorder. And the simultaneous weighing against what others don’t have and how lucky I am with ‘all the support I could possibly need.’ It’s hard to feel grateful.

There are many women who don’t have their own bathrooms in this world and menstrual products. How many times growing up did I waste so much water sitting in the shower hoping the hot temperature would help soothe my pain? How many times have I gone over not being able to work at a conventional place of work where I could have had some more experience and money only to be treated like a second class citizen? I still question whether I belong there.

How many times have I evaluated when and when not I will have the ability to physically do something, anything, only to have my evaluations proven wrong? And dealing with the endless insensitive comments of others, whether they mean it or not, which they often don’t. At the end of the day, as I sit in my comfortable bed with a cup of tea, the thing that has kept me going is gratitude for that darn old bathroom.

What I would do for the eternal joy and freedom of being a seven year old under a brilliant sun riding in a car free of pain, only God knows. What is surprising to me is how I’m unfortunately thinking about the insensitive and turd-like mannerisms of some white people at this moment. Why is this beautiful memory tarnished with this reality? Why am I writing about it in the same post? I’m having trouble synthesizing what is real from what is unreal and find myself saying over and again in my mind throughout the day: UNREAL.

I just had a woman in her late forties whitesplain and appropriate to me about a creative project. In that crass way. And I hired her! Forget about professionalism, it seems there is some level of ‘informality’ that certain people feel they can access which I can’t even imagine occurring with brown people. And I have dealt with a lot of brown people. And what is it that also makes an old white, crusty mediator who has had a career and wants you to be a part of his dying career say to you: ‘you’re family must be so frustrated with you’ as he manipulates you to join his ‘firm’ during covid. I don’t want to be a part of your stupid ‘firm’!

As if the other American bullshit isn’t enough to deal with, I remember years ago, this wretched white guy whose kid I tutored asked me to now tutor his niece. After reading my contract (or so they said it was read), which requires payment upfront, the parent did not bring payment to the first session. I then calmly explain in a sentence why I cannot tutor (and lord knows his son forgot to bring payment more than once before) and quietly walk away. I was then barraged with voicemails and emails with him calling me a c*** saying I need psychological help. And the contact (white woman! who owns an educational company!) who referred this turd to me, after he complains to the contact, emails me and says ‘I’m not surprised by his complaints.’ She never met me in person and I hardly spoke with her ever.

I’ve seen my mother deal with many haggling Indian people in the course of her business. It sucks seeing people “bargain” with your mother for twenty dollars when they own half a million to million dollar homes. But hey, it doesn’t suck as bad as a thieving ‘mediator’ and being called the c word. This is hate. And the instances where my mother has experienced horrible instances of hate, with one event she can’t even talk about to this day to me, swirl in the back of my mind.

It seems to me that whatever that level of informality is or pattern is, I’m convinced it exists. I feel we need to know within ourselves the type of communication and interaction appropriate for each one of us, asserting it with boundaries (Taurus) and endings while watching for the red flags. I am one of those people who doesn’t watch the red flags and then gets ambushed with a ton of red. We must know our limits (Saturn).

You know, some of us don’t walk around calculating how we’re going to behave and what we’re going to say in this world. I don’t think as I interact with the world everyday ‘okay I’m interacting as a woman so this is what I will or will not say.’ I just think and behave naturally. When I’m triggered, a mix of responses come up. I don’t choose! Should we constantly be triggered and our minds and bodies under constant duress and stress where we have to be mindful of how we respond to this? The world’s behavior, as one psychology professor put it, ‘has become so very weird.’

Unreal..

  • The update as of August 2022 is I have DIE (deep infiltrating endometriosis which happens to one to five percent of women with endo and often with stage IV) and adenomyosis. I’m so glad to have confirmed that I own death. And all sorts of other growths like hydrosalpinx aka pixy stix. I will need an advanced laparoscopy which is fortunately minimally invasive. I wish the system worked in a way that had helped me have this option years ago.