A Clearing

How a woo-woo single mom prepares for a summer she didn't plan for

The Education of Achilles by Donato Creti, 1714 / collage excerpt from my journal, 2003, 15 years old

Two months after my husband left me an astrologer read my birth chart. She told me that Chiron, the Wounded Healer of the zodiac, was conjunct my sun sign in the 12th house. That this placement meant I probably had a strong connection to grief, that I probably wondered a lot if I was good enough. That with that placement comes a deep mastery of something, most likely a way to heal and help people, but that it takes time (and time and time) to get there.

She also said that with this placement there is pain. That in order to alchemize and move through the pain, I need to see it, and I need to write about it. To turn the pain into art. That this would eventually set me free.

I try to think of this often. Things have been hard, but maybe it’s for a reason, to creatively crack me open, to endlessly grow, to always be searching for something.

But it’s been over two years - and sometimes the pain still feels so stifling. My brain is tired and sad. I get stuck on a loop of how I keep failing as a mom. It sometimes seems that no amount of Lexapro in the world can stop the I Hate Myself loop.

I’ve been trying to write a Substack for weeks and I just keep listing out all of the ways I’m mad at myself. My house is falling apart, the pipes keep making a loud, creepy noise, I can’t get my kids to sleep at a normal toddler time, our mornings are like warfare that I can never get a handle on and I always end up yelling (see, I’m doing it again).

I’m turning 40 next week.

And the girl’s dad is leaving California in a few days for an undetermined amount of time, for a seemingly unknown reason. Just a couple of weeks before summer starts. Missing our daughters preschool graduation and leaving me to figure out two weeks of no childcare before their summer camp starts, how to pay for the summer camp, how to keep things sweet and normal for my kids - all while I try not to have a fucking nervous breakdown about a milestone birthday that truly signifies aging.

This is probably what’s making everything feel muddled. I am stuck in a forever freeze, becoming stagnant with worries and woes and “how will I evers.”

And then I don’t know how I will get out of it. I remember two years ago feeling glimmers of optimism coast through my veins - envisioning my girls and I strengthened and wiser and making it out to the other side. I wrote about it, dreamt about it.

But I don’t really see that anymore. Maybe it was just adrenaline. Maybe the other side is farther away than I could have ever even dreamt of.

I pulled a Sonia Choquette Spirit Card a couple days ago that told me I needed to release current routines or habits or people in order to allow new energies to come in. “If you want to attract new, more uplifting relationships, let go of past heartbreaks and disappointments and invite new, better-suited people into your life.”

That same night I started my period on the Blue Moon - the second full moon in the month of May. Of course I googled what that meant - it suggests a time of “profound emotional clearing, letting go of what no longer serves you, tapping into your inner wisdom.”

So, I guess the universe is telling me to clear things out. It makes sense. I feel like I’m full of cobwebs, like someone needs to come blow the dust off of me and stick me in the sunlight.

Maybe a co-parent leaving is just what I need. Not necessarily in order to learn that I can do it all on my own. I’ve already done that. I know I can.

But maybe I’m meant to drop this tether that I’ve been gripping like a game of tug-of-war. Maybe the lesson is to unclench my jaw, drop my shoulders. To be nicer to myself. To take my time. To be around girlfriends with similar values. To try and not care about no longer being able to afford Botox.

Maybe the lesson is to allow myself to feel warm rays of optimism shine on my skin like the sun - instead of trying so hard to conjure it all on my own, exert it through my veins, to prove to myself how capable I am.

A summer of letting it all go, and then letting it all in.

a slow morning, May 2026 / Morning Sun by Edward Hopper, 1952