Deep End Astrology

hi. i'm jad3. aries rising, leo sun, virgo moon—which basically means i showed up to life like a house on fire and then got really annoying about organizing the ashes.

i got thrown into the deep end of life in 2020, at the start of my saturn return. astrology was the thing that taught me how to swim. or at least how to stop fighting the current long enough to realize it was taking me somewhere i actually needed to go.

i don't do too much "mercury retrograde made me text my ex" shit here. i explore the archetypal energy of the zodiac signs, unpack the symbology of the stars, and i like to use pop culture (film, music, and books, mostly) to frame the dynamics of various birth chart placements. i'm into the kind of astrology that makes you sit on your floor at 3am going oh fuck that's why i'm like this.

i post daily. sometimes it's coherent. sometimes it's me staring at a transit like "what the actual fuck does this even mean" and then figuring it out in real time with you.

if this resonates, if you want more, if you want a reading or just wanna support someone who's out here trying to translate the stars into something that doesn't make you feel insane—my ko-fi is here. i give a variety of different readings, or you can tip me if you read one of my posts and it made you feel a little less alone.

follow if you're ready to stop drowning and start diving.

—jad3 🔮🗡️

air signs in the 8th house is like… you showed up to the underworld with a clipboard and a theory about grief, and the 8th house is like "yeah no, you're gonna have to actually feel this." and you're like "can i just think about feeling it?" and the 8th house is like "absolutely not." air signs have to learn that you can't intellectual-theory your way through transformation. you can't explain your way out of the void. sometimes you just have to sit in the dark and let your clever mind finally shut the fuck up.

⤷ leave me a tip if you like゛❤︎ˎˊ˗

♊ gemini in the 8th house

gemini in the 8th house means you're trying to narrate your way through the apocalypse. something devastating happens and you're already turning it into a story, a tweet, a conversation topic, because if you can talk about it then you don't have to feel it. you're so good at describing your pain that you've mistaken the description for the processing. but you're just… hovering. always hovering above the feeling, never actually in it.

the shadow here is that you fragment instead of feeling. you've got seventeen different versions of yourself and none of them are talking to each other. you'll tell one friend one thing, another friend something completely different, and yourself a third story, and somehow you think that counts as intimacy. but really you're just… scattered. no one gets all of you because you don't even know where all of you is.

and in relationships, you do this thing where you keep it light until it's not, and then when it gets heavy you just… leave. not physically (though sometimes), but emotionally. you detach. you rationalize. you turn the person into a character in a story you're telling instead of an actual human you're connected to. because connection requires consistency, and you're allergic to being pinned down to one feeling, one truth, one version of events.

there's also this thing where you think if you can just understand why you feel something, you won't have to feel it anymore. like feelings are puzzles to be solved. so you analyze and theorize and read every fucking article about attachment styles and trauma responses, but you never just… cry. you never just sit with the ache in your chest and let it be wordless.

the 8th house wants you to stop talking for a minute. to let yourself be in your body instead of narrating from outside it. to understand that some things can't be explained—they can only be survived. and survival requires presence, not performance.

ways to actually work with this:

practice being with a feeling without naming it. sit down, notice what's happening in your body, and resist the urge to turn it into language. just… feel it. let it be shapeless and wordless and confusing. also: tell one person the whole truth. not the entertaining version, not the digestible version—the actual messy, contradictory, unsexy truth. let them see you unsorted.

and maybe most importantly: commit to one narrative. stop telling different versions of your story to different people. pick a truth and stay with it long enough to let it change you.

affirmation:

i am safe in stillness. my feelings are not problems to solve—they are experiences to inhabit. i release the need to narrate and embrace the power of presence.

♎ libra in the 8th house

libra in the 8th house is like… you're trying to make the underworld nice. you want transformation to be elegant, balanced, mutually beneficial. you want depth but you want it to be pretty. you want intimacy but you want everyone to still like you after. and the 8th house is like "babe, this is gonna get ugly" and you're like "but what if it doesn't have to?"

the shadow here is that you perform harmony to avoid conflict. you'll sacrifice your own needs, your own truth, your own fucking boundaries if it means keeping the peace. because you're terrified of being the problem. of being too much, too needy, too intense. so you make yourself palatable. you sand down your edges. you become whatever the other person needs you to be, and then you resent them for not seeing the real you—but you never showed them the real you in the first place.

and in relationships, you lose yourself constantly. you mirror the other person so well that you forget what you actually want. you defer every decision. "where do you want to eat?" "i don't know, where do you want to eat?" until someone finally just picks and you're privately disappointed but you don't say anything because you don't want to be difficult. and this happens with everything. what you think, how you feel, what you need—it's all contingent on not rocking the boat.

there's also this thing where you're addicted to being liked. to being seen as fair, diplomatic, easy. so you don't state your needs directly—you hint. you imply. you expect people to just know what you want without you having to ask for it. and when they don't, you feel hurt and misunderstood, but you still don't say anything because saying something would be confrontational and confrontation is your worst nightmare.

the 8th house wants you to get uncomfortable. to let yourself be the villain in someone else's story. to prioritize your truth over their approval. to understand that real intimacy requires conflict, requires you to take up space, requires you to stop performing agreeability and start being real.

ways to actually work with this:

practice disagreeing out loud. someone says something you don't agree with and instead of nodding and moving on, you say "actually, i see it differently." and then you stay in the conversation even when it's uncomfortable. also: state a need directly. not "if you want to" or "only if it's not too much trouble"—just "i need this."

and this one's big: let someone be mad at you without immediately trying to fix it. sit in the discomfort of being disliked. notice that you're still whole even when someone's upset with you.

affirmation:

i am worthy even in conflict. my truth matters more than being liked. i release the need to perform harmony and embrace the power of being real.

♒ aquarius in the 8th house

aquarius in the 8th house means you've intellectualized emotional intimacy to the point where you're basically a robot with feelings you refuse to acknowledge. you want connection but you want it to be rational. you want depth but you want to observe it from a distance, like you're studying human behavior for a research project titled "what is this thing called love?"

the shadow here is that you detach to avoid vulnerability. you zoom out. you universalize. someone hurts you and you're like "well, from an evolutionary psychology perspective, this makes sense" or "pain is just a construct anyway" and meanwhile your heart is fucking breaking but you've convinced yourself that being above it makes you enlightened. it doesn't. it just makes you alone.

and you're so scared of being ordinary, of being needy, of being like everyone else who falls apart over relationships. so you perform this whole "i don't need anyone" thing. you're independent, self-sufficient, totally fine on your own. and you are—until you're not. until you realize that all your friendships are surface-level because you never let anyone close enough to actually see you. until you're lying awake at 3am wondering why you feel so fucking isolated when you're surrounded by people.

there's also this thing where you treat intimacy like a concept instead of an experience. you'll talk about vulnerability but you won't actually be vulnerable. you'll analyze relationships but you won't actually risk being in one. you'll theorize about emotional depth but the second someone asks you how you're actually feeling, you short-circuit.

the 8th house wants you to stop observing and start participating. to let yourself be messy and irrational and human. to understand that connection doesn't happen in your head—it happens in the terrifying space between two people who are willing to be seen. and being seen requires you to stop hiding behind your intellect.

ways to actually work with this:

practice saying "i feel" instead of "i think." like, literally catch yourself when you're about to intellectualize and redirect to the feeling. "i feel scared" instead of "it's interesting how fear manifests in situations like this." also: let yourself need someone. ask for comfort. ask for presence. let someone see you when you're not cool and detached and above it all.

and maybe the hardest one: be ordinary. have a normal human reaction to something. cry at a movie. get jealous. be petty. let yourself be un-special and un-enlightened and just… a person. with feelings. that don't need to be explained or justified.

affirmation:

water signs in the 8th house is like… you're already drowning and then the 8th house shows up with more water. you're too good at feeling, too good at merging, too good at dissolving into other people's emotional weather. the shadow here isn't that you can't access depth—it's that you can't find the bottom. you don't know where you end and the ocean begins. water signs have to learn that boundaries aren't walls—they're the shoreline that lets you know you still exist.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 if you like reading these mini astro deep dives, you can tip me here! 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

♋ cancer in the 8th house

cancer in the 8th house means you've been swallowing other people's pain since you were old enough to sense it. you absorb everything—moods, grief, unspoken family trauma, the emotional climate of every room you walk into. and you think that's love. you think that's intimacy. but really you're just… haunted. living in a house full of ghosts that aren't even yours.

the shadow here is that you give to avoid being abandoned. you mother everyone because if you're indispensable, if you're the one they need, then they can't leave. but underneath all that caretaking is this bottomless pit of need that you're terrified to acknowledge. because if you admit how much you need—how desperately you want to be held, to be seen, to be the one someone comes home to—then you might have to face the possibility that you won't get it. and that feels like dying.

so you bury it. you give and give and give until you're resentful, bitter, until you're keeping score of every single thing you've done for people and how little you've gotten back. you build these invisible debts and then you're shocked when people don't repay them. but you never told them what you needed. you just hoped they'd know. you wanted them to read your mind, to intuit your hunger, because asking directly feels too vulnerable.

and in intimacy, you cling. you enmesh. you can't tell the difference between loving someone and losing yourself in them. you're so busy trying to make yourself necessary that you forget to ask if you're actually wanted. if you're actually choosing this or just repeating the pattern of making yourself small so someone will keep you.

the 8th house wants you to stop performing emotional labor as a shield against your own needs. to let yourself be needy without shame. to understand that you can't manipulate people into loving you by being perfect and selfless and always available. real love requires you to take up space, to have edges, to say "this is what i need" even if it scares the shit out of you.

ways to actually work with this:

practice saying what you need out loud. not hinting. not hoping someone will notice. actual direct communication: "i need reassurance right now" or "i need space" or "i need you to show up for me the way i show up for you." and then—this is hard—let the response be what it is. don't perform understanding if you're actually hurt.

also: stop trying to fix people. let them have their own shit without taking it on as yours. notice when you're absorbing someone's mood and consciously choose not to. you don't have to be the emotional sponge. you can witness without drowning.

affirmation:

my needs are not a burden. i am allowed to ask. i release the belief that love requires my disappearance.

♏ scorpio in the 8th house

okay so scorpio in the 8th house is… you're in your home territory but that doesn't mean it's easy. if anything it's harder because you don't have the excuse of not knowing how to do this. you know depth. you live there. but the shadow is that you've made the underworld your entire personality and now you don't know how to be light. how to be surface. how to just… exist without everything being a life-or-death emotional crisis.

the shadow here is intensity as armor. you go so deep so fast that no one can actually reach you. you test people. you push them to prove they can handle you, but the truth is you're just scared they'll leave once they see what's really down there. so you show them the abyss before they've even asked, and then you're confused why they run. you mistake shock value for intimacy. you think if you can just be dark enough, raw enough, real enough, then only the worthy will stay. but really you're just… scared of being ordinary. of being seen without the performance of depth.

and you're so fucking suspicious. of everyone. of everything. you assume betrayal before it happens. you look for proof that people will hurt you, and surprise—you find it. because you're so busy protecting yourself that you never actually let anyone in. you test their loyalty, their commitment, their love, but you never give them the chance to pass because you've already decided they'll fail.

there's also this thing where you think you have to earn transformation through suffering. like, if it doesn't hurt, it doesn't count. if you're not being destroyed and reborn every three months, you're not doing it right. but the 8th house isn't asking you to suffer endlessly. it's asking you to integrate. to stop performing your darkness and start actually living with it. to let it be part of you without it being all of you.

ways to actually work with this:

practice trust as a radical act. choose one person and actively look for evidence that they're trustworthy instead of evidence that they'll betray you. notice when you're testing someone and… stop. just let them be human. let them fuck up without it meaning they're out to destroy you.

also: let yourself be shallow sometimes. watch a dumb movie. have a light conversation. care about something frivolous. you don't have to be in crisis mode to be real. depth is more powerful when it has contrast.

affirmation:

i am safe to trust. my intensity is a gift, not a weapon. i release the need to test love and embrace the power of receiving it.

♓ pisces in the 8th house

pisces in the 8th house is like… you don't have boundaries, you have suggestions. and the 8th house, which is already asking you to merge and dissolve, is like "perfect, let's take this to a level that will completely unmoor you from consensus reality." and you're like "okay!" and then you're fucking lost for three years.

the shadow here is that you disappear into people. into relationships, into fantasies, into the story you're telling yourself about what this all means. you don't know where you end and they begin because you've romanticized merger to the point where you think losing yourself is love. you're a martyr, a savior, a mystic, a victim—whatever role the relationship needs you to play, you'll play it. because at least then you're needed. at least then you matter.

and you're so good at seeing potential. at seeing the version of someone that doesn't exist yet. you fall in love with ghosts. with who they could be if they just healed, if they just tried, if they just loved you enough to become the person you've decided they are. but they're not that person. they might never be. and you're over here drowning in your own projections, calling it devotion.

the shadow is also avoidance dressed up as spirituality. you transcend instead of feel. you forgive before you've even acknowledged the hurt. you bypass your anger, your boundaries, your actual fucking needs because "we're all one" or "it's all a lesson" or whatever spiritual platitude helps you avoid the fact that someone just treated you like shit and you didn't say anything because confrontation feels too harsh, too real, too earthly.

the 8th house wants you to get earthly. to have edges. to let yourself be angry without immediately forgiving. to understand that boundaries aren't unspiritual—they're what keep you from losing yourself entirely. to stop saving people and start seeing them clearly.

ways to actually work with this:

practice saying no. like, just no. no explanation, no softening, no "i'm sorry but—" just no. notice how it feels in your body. notice the guilt and sit with it without giving in. also: get really honest about who you're actually in relationship with versus who you've fantasized them into being. write down the reality. the facts. what they've actually shown you. not what you hope for.

and this one's crucial: let yourself be angry. like, full permission. not spiritual anger where you process it through for three days and then forgive. just… rage. let it be ugly. let it be un-evolved. your anger has information. listen to it.

affirmation:

okay so earth signs in the 8th house is like… you've built this whole life on being solid, reliable, having your shit together, and then the 8th house shows up like a jump scare, saying "cool, now let it all fall apart." and you're like "absolutely not, i have a five-year plan." but the thing about the 8th house is it doesn't care about your plans. it wants you to compost. to let the structure break down so something new can grow. earth signs have to learn that control is just fear with a container.

pssst, if you're ready to dive deep into every aspect of your birth chart, you can get a reading from me ❤︎ you'll get the 4-1-1 on your birth chart in an aesthetic notion dashboard that grows and evolves with you! plus: you can track your transits, keep an astro journal, and practice astrological magic all in one place! 🛸── ✦ get it here. ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

♉ taurus in the 8th house

taurus in the 8th house means you're gripping onto everything like if you let go you'll disappear. and i mean everything—people, possessions, your sense of self, that one grudge from 2015, the specific way you like your coffee. you've built your whole identity around stability, around knowing what's yours, and the 8th house is like "what if nothing is actually yours? what if you're just borrowing it all?" and you're like "i'm gonna pretend i didn't hear that."

the shadow here is that you mistake holding on for safety. you think if you can just keep everything the same—same relationship, same job, same routine, same version of yourself—then you won't have to face the terror of impermanence. but the 8th house is the house of letting die, and you're over here trying to preserve everything in amber. you're terrified of loss. of being empty-handed. of needing something you can't control.

and it shows up in intimacy too. you want merger but you're scared of being consumed, so you… withhold. you give 80% and keep 20% locked away just in case. you treat love like a transaction—i'll give you this much if you give me this much back—because at least then it's fair, it's measured, it's safe. but the 8th house doesn't do safe. it does total. it wants all of you, and that feels like death.

here's the thing though: your need for security isn't bad. it's just misplaced. real security doesn't come from holding tight. it comes from knowing you'll survive the loss. from trusting that even if everything falls apart, you'll still be here. whole. breathing.

ways to actually work with this:

practice letting go of small things on purpose. give away something you love. delete a photo. end a subscription. let yourself feel the micro-grief of release and notice that you're still okay. also—this is big—let yourself need someone without keeping score. let someone give to you without immediately giving back. sit in the discomfort of receiving without reciprocating and see if it actually kills you. (it won't.)

and maybe most importantly: let something end. a habit, a relationship, a version of yourself. let it compost. see what grows.

affirmation:

i am safe even in release. my worth is not in what i hold—it's in what i am. i trust the cycle of death and rebirth.

♍ virgo in the 8th house

virgo in the 8th house is like… you're trying to organize the underworld. you want your shadow neatly labeled, your trauma categorized, your healing journey broken down into actionable steps with measurable outcomes. and the 8th house is just this swirling chaotic void that refuses to be fixed, and you're standing there with your color-coded spreadsheet like "but how do i optimize this?"

the shadow here is that you think if you can just figure it out, analyze it, understand it, make it make sense, then you won't have to actually feel it. you intellectualize your pain. you therapize yourself into circles. you read every book, listen to every podcast, try every modality, but you never just… sit in the mess. you never let it be ugly and unsolvable. because if you can't fix it, what's the point of you?

and underneath all that fixing is this fucked-up belief that you're only valuable if you're useful. if you're improving. if you're working on yourself. you can't just be—you have to be better. so you turn your healing into a performance of productivity. you're in therapy but you're treating it like a class you need to ace. you're doing shadow work but you're grading yourself on how well you're doing it.

the 8th house wants you to stop. to let yourself be a mess without trying to clean it up. to sit in the not-knowing, the imperfection, the absolute fucking chaos of being human, and just… breathe. to understand that you don't have to earn your right to take up space. that you're allowed to be broken without fixing it immediately.

ways to actually work with this:

do something badly on purpose. paint a shitty painting. write a terrible poem. make a meal that doesn't turn out. let yourself be imperfect and notice the world doesn't end. also: take a break from self-improvement. like, a real break. no podcasts. no journaling. no analyzing. just… exist. be useless for a day and see what happens.

and this one's hard but necessary: let someone see you when you're a mess. not the curated "i'm working on myself" mess, but the actual "i don't have it together and i don't know what to do" mess. let them witness you without trying to fix yourself in real-time.

affirmation:

i am worthy without the work. my value is not in my productivity. i release the need to fix and embrace the power of simply being.

♑ capricorn in the 8th house

capricorn in the 8th house means you've been running from your own vulnerability since you were like, seven. you learned early that emotions are inconvenient, that needing people makes you weak, that the only way to survive is to be completely self-sufficient. so you built a fortress. you became the person everyone else leans on, and now you're so fucking tired but you can't stop because if you're not holding it together, who are you?

the shadow here is that you're terrified of being seen as weak. of losing control. of admitting that underneath all that competence and composure, you're just as scared and lost as everyone else. so you perform strength even when you're crumbling. you handle everything alone because asking for help feels like failure. you've turned self-reliance into a religion, and intimacy feels like blasphemy.

and in relationships, you… god. you either pick people who need you (because at least then you're in control) or you keep everyone at arm's length because merger feels like losing yourself. you can't let anyone see the soft animal of your body, the part of you that's still young and scared and doesn't have the answers. because if you're not the strong one, the capable one, the one with the plan—then what?

the 8th house is asking you to find out. it wants you to let the armor crack. to let yourself need someone. to understand that vulnerability isn't weakness—it's the only way to actually connect. and connection is what you're starving for, even if you've convinced yourself you're fine alone.

ways to actually work with this:

ask for help with something that matters. not a small thing. something real. and then—this is crucial—actually let someone help you without taking over or doing it yourself anyway. practice saying "i can't do this alone" out loud and not immediately following it with "but i'll figure it out."

also: let yourself fall apart where someone can see you. cry in front of a friend. admit you're scared. be un-composed. your worth isn't in how much you can carry—it's in your wholeness, which includes the broken parts.

affirmation:

god, the fire signs in the 8th house. it’s a lot. it’s like trying to host a bonfire in a crawlspace—eventually, someone’s going to get burned or the whole house is going to smell like smoke for a decade. but here we are. i’m thinking about my crush as i write this—he’s got the ram 🐏 in the 8th—and i’m chuckling to myself a little bit, even tho (at least in my experience), the shadow in the 8th house is no joke. it’s more like…a crime scene.

enjoy! oh, and ummmm…. ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ **leave me a tip** 😈

gif credit: @mertzv2 on ig

♈ aries in the 8th house

okay so aries in the 8th house is like… you're walking around with this insane amount of life force, right? like you could fight god or fuck god or maybe both at the same time, but the second someone asks you to actually be vulnerable you're like "haha gotta go, house is on fire, can't talk, bye." and the house isn't on fire. you just set it on fire so you'd have an excuse to leave.

the shadow here is that you're fucking terrified of softness. of needing anyone. of that moment in intimacy where you can't tell if you're about to come or cry or both and you just want to explode out of your skin because it's too much, too close, too real. so you rage instead. or you pick a fight. or you fuck someone you don't care about because at least then you're in control of how deep it goes.

and i get it—somewhere along the way you learned that anger was safer than sadness. that being strong meant never breaking. that if you let someone all the way in they'd find out you're not actually that powerful, you're just good at performing it. but here's what the 8th house is trying to tell you: your anger isn't the problem. it's that you've never let yourself feel it all the way through. you discharge it before it can transform you. you fight to avoid surrender, but surrender is literally the only way through.

like, the 8th house doesn't want you to stop being intense. it wants you to stop being afraid of your own intensity. to let the fire burn you instead of everything around you. to understand that being unmade isn't the same as being destroyed.

ways to actually work with this:

let yourself rage on purpose. like, full permission. put on music that makes you want to break things and scream into a pillow until your throat hurts. move the energy through your body instead of keeping it locked in your chest like a bomb. and then—this is the hard part—let yourself cry after. let the grief underneath the anger finally surface.

also: pick one person and practice not leaving when it gets uncomfortable. like, literally say out loud "i want to run right now but i'm going to stay." stay in the feeling. stay in the conversation. let intimacy be the place where you learn that being seen doesn't actually kill you.

affirmation:

i am allowed to burn. i am allowed to break. my fire does not destroy me—it reveals what's true.

♌ leo in the 8th house

leo in the 8th house is… god, okay. you're out here trying to be the main character of your own healing journey and the 8th house is like "yeah no, you're gonna have to get really un-special for a minute." and you're like "absolutely fucking not."

because here's the thing: you're terrified of being ordinary. of being the kind of person who has boring problems and needs help and doesn't have it all figured out. so you perform your transformation. you make it mythic before you've actually lived it. you're out here posting about shadow work but you haven't actually sat with your shadow in weeks because sitting with it doesn't feel like anything, it's just… sitting. and you need it to mean something.

the shadow here is that you'd rather be alone than be un-impressive. you'll give everyone else the full sun, full generosity, full warmth, but you won't let anyone see you when you're dim. when you're tired. when you don't have the answer. because if you're not shining, if you're not special, if you're not the one holding it together—then what? who are you if you're not exceptional?

and the 8th house is like: let's fucking find out.

it wants you to let your light go out for a minute. to be small and messy and human and see if anyone still loves you. (spoiler: they will!) it wants you to stop curating your darkness and start actually living in it. to understand that real power isn't in how brightly you shine—it's in how much of yourself you're willing to let be seen, unpolished.

ways to actually work with this:

share something you're genuinely ashamed of with someone you trust. not in a "look how self-aware i am" way, but in a "this is fucking hard to say and i'm saying it anyway" way. practice receiving help without turning it into a performance of gratitude. like, just let someone do something for you and say "thank you" and sit in the discomfort of being cared for.

also: be boring for a week. no grand gestures. no mythologizing. no turning your feelings into content. just… exist. see what it feels like to not be the star of every moment. spoiler: it might feel like relief.

affirmation:

i am loved even when i'm not shining. my worth is not in my performance. i am whole, even in the dark.

♐ sagittarius in the 8th house

sagittarius in the 8th house means you've spent your whole life running from anything that feels like a cage, and unfortunately the 8th house is a locked room with no windows and you have to stay in there until you've faced your shit. and you're like "can i at least bring a book?" and the 8th house is like "no. sit with it."

your shadow is that you spiritually bypass like it's an olympic sport. you've got all the frameworks, all the philosophies, all the explanations for why things are the way they are, but you won't actually feel any of it. you turn pain into a teaching moment before you've even processed it. someone hurts you and you're like "well, from a karmic perspective—" babe. you're allowed to just be hurt. you don't have to make it mean something yet.

and the thing is, you're not actually afraid of depth. you're afraid of being stuck in it. of commitment feeling like a trap. of intimacy meaning you can't leave whenever you want. so you keep one foot out the door. you keep things light, keep things optional, keep things philosophical, because at least then you're free. except you're not free. you're just… elsewhere. always elsewhere.

the 8th house wants you to stop running. to plant yourself somewhere—in a relationship, in a feeling, in your own fucking body—and stay there long enough to let it change you. because transformation doesn't happen in motion. it happens when you're finally still enough to let the underworld find you.

ways to actually work with this:

commit to something without an escape plan. a relationship. a city. a practice. and when the urge to bolt comes up (because it will), just… notice it. sit with it. ask it what it's protecting you from. spoiler: it's usually intimacy.

also: let yourself not know something. like, really not know. sit in confusion without immediately reaching for a book or a teacher or a framework to make it make sense. let your body teach you something your brain can't explain yet. practice saying "i don't know" out loud and not filling the silence after.

affirmation:

where you descend to reclaim power

the 8th house is the house of annihilation and regeneration. it is where you die before you die. not the death of the body—that comes later, in another house—but the death of who you thought you were. the death of the mask, the persona, the costume you wore to survive childhood and fit into consensus reality. the 8th house is where you go when surface living no longer feeds you. when you've exhausted the shallow end. when you realize the real treasures are buried in the dark.

we just crawled out of the 12th house—that blurry, oceanic static where everything is everyone and the ego is just a suggestion. but the 8th house? the 8th house is different. it’s not blurry. it’s heavy. it’s the place where the gravity gets weird. if the 2nd house is the stuff you keep in your pockets, the 8th house is the stuff people bury with you. it’s the house of entanglement.

in the old world—the one that’s currently glitching out and dissolving like a bad deep-fake—they told us to be afraid of this place. they called it the house of death and taxes, which honestly sounds like a really depressing board game. but they only wanted us to fear it because the 8th house is where the true power is kept. it’s the cosmic basement where the "source code" of our survival is stored. and if you know how to read that code, you can’t be controlled by the simulation anymore.

we have to talk about money, but not the kind you make from a 9-to-5. the 8th house is about other people’s money. it’s inheritances, loans, grants, and the way energy flows between us when we decide to build something together. it’s the venture capital of the soul.

but it’s also the emotional debt we carry. we’re all walking around with these invisible archives—ancestral trauma, the husks of old heartbreaks, the weird psychic weight of our parents' unfulfilled dreams. the 8th house is the auditor. it shows up and says, “hey, you’ve been carrying this suitcase of ghosts for three decades. are you going to keep it, or are you going to liquidate it for parts?” for us—the nomads, the chaos magicians, the ones trying to dream up a reality that doesn't feel like a fluorescent-lit cubicle—the 8th house is our funding. it’s where we learn that when we merge our magic with someone else’s, we create a third, more powerful entity. it’s the "us" that is greater than the sum of our glitches.

people get all weird and breathless when they talk about the 8th house and sex, but it’s rarely just about the friction. it’s about the merging of fields. it’s what happens when you let someone else’s data-stream overwrite your own for a minute. like an ego-merge.

in the 8th house, sex is an occult act. it’s a way of seeing behind the veil. it’s that moment where you realize you aren't just a meat-suit; you’re a vibrating frequency that can harmonize with another. it’s terrifying because it requires you to be seen—not the "curated aesthetic" version of you, but the raw, unedited, 3 a.m. version. the version that’s a little bit feral. the 8th house demands intimacy so raw it hurts as much as it heals, because that’s the only kind that actually changes you.

this house is the seat of transformation. and i don't mean the "butterfly coming out of a cocoon" kind of transformation that they put on inspirational posters. i mean the kind where the caterpillar literally turns into soup. its entire structure dissolves. it’s a crisis. it’s a total system failure.

the 8th house governs the moments in our lives where the "old world" falls away—the breakups that feel like losing a limb, the creative projects that implode, the spiritual 'dark nights' where it feels like the universe has blocked your number.

but here’s the secret: the glitch is where the magic enters. when the system crashes, you get to see the architecture. you see what’s real and what’s just a hologram. the 8th house is where we learn to be comfortable in the "soup phase." it’s where we realize that death isn't a period; it’s a comma. it’s just the soul hitting the 'refresh' button. to live in the 8th house is to be an alchemist—taking the leaden, heavy reality of our pain and turning it into the gold of absolute, unshakeable sovereignty.

finally, this is the house of the detective. it’s why so many of us are obsessed with ufology, true crime, and the hidden history of the world. we’re looking for the patterns. the 8th house gives us the "x-ray vision" to see the power dynamics at play in any room. it’s the psychic intuition that tells you when a "leader" is actually just a ghoul in a fancy suit.

as we build this new, weird future, we need our 8th house eyes wide open. we need to be able to look at the darkness—the systemic rot, the collective shadow—and not blink. because you can’t heal what you’re too afraid to look at. we aren't just here to play in the light; we’re here to go into the basement with a flashlight and a sense of humor and reclaim all the energy we’ve left down there.

it’s messy. it’s haunting. it’s a little bit like falling in love with a vampire. but it’s the only way to become truly alive.

deeper paths

the resource of the void: what is one thing you’ve "lost"—a relationship, a job, a version of yourself—that actually left you with a secret power? how can you "spend" that power now?

the psychic lease: whose energy are you currently living in? is there a "landlord" in your head (a parent, an ex, a society) telling you how to decorate your internal space? what would it take to evict them?

the taboo as a portal: what is the one topic or feeling that you’ve been told is "too much" or "too dark"? if that feeling was a sigil, what would it be trying to manifest for you?

side quests

the shadow audit: open a blank document (or a dusty journal). list five things you’re afraid of. now, look at each one and ask: "if this fear came true, what superpower would i be forced to develop to survive it?" write that superpower down. that’s your 8th house inheritance.

an offering to the transition: find an object that represents a version of you that no longer exists. take it to a crossroads, or bury it in soil, or simply delete the file. say: "thank you for the data. i am upgrading now."

the 'merging' meditation: next time you’re collaborating with someone or even just having a deep conversation, visualize your energy fields overlapping like a venn diagram. what is being created in that middle space that belongs to neither of you? that’s the 8th house ghost. listen to what it has to say.

the 12th house is where you store everything that doesn't fit into your conscious self-concept. it's the mystical basement of your chart, filled with dreams, intuitions, forgotten traumas, spiritual gifts you've been ignoring, and probably some past life memories if you believe in that sort of thing (i do, for the record).

any planets here operate like ghosts: influential but invisible, powerful but confusing. working with 12th house energy requires the kind of psychological detective work that involves paying attention to your dreams, your slips of the tongue, the moments when you feel like you're channeling something larger than yourself.

it's the house of the unconscious, of dissolution, of everything that exists in the liminal space between waking and sleeping. it's where you go when you dissociate, when you create art, when you feel connected to something vast and nameless.

i live here a lot, honestly. it's where i feel most at home—in that strange space where boundaries dissolve and everything bleeds into everything else. it's disorienting but also kind of beautiful, like being underwater but able to breathe.

journaling prompts for the mystically inclined:

that recurring dream or feeling you can never quite articulate—describe its mood, its logic, its strange symbols. what might your unconscious be broadcasting that your conscious mind hasn't learned to translate yet?

the aspect of yourself you're certain no one sees or understands. how does it feel to keep this hidden? what would happen if you let it be visible, even in small ways?

when do you feel most connected to something larger than yourself? whether it's through art, meditation, substances, or those moments when time seems to stop entirely and you remember you're part of something infinite.

a period when you felt completely lost, like all your familiar landmarks had dissolved. what emerged from that disorientation? what did you learn about navigating without a map?

list everything you unconsciously absorb from others—their emotions, their energy, their unspoken expectations. how do these invisible influences shape your behavior and internal landscape?

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ read more about your specific 12th house shadow ⬇️⬇️⬇️

✶ the water signs in the 12th house ♋♏♓

✶ the air signs in the 12th house ♊♎♒

✶ the earth signs in the 12th house ♉♍♑

✶ the fire signs in the 12th house ♈♌♐

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

if you'd like an in-depth reading of your entire birth chart as a fancy schmancy notion dashboard, get your personalized astrological deep dive here!

okay, look. uranus is moving into gemini and honestly? my brain feels like it’s being scrubbed with a wire brush made of fiber-optic cables. it’s not just "change"—it’s a literal rewrite of the software we’re using to perceive reality. if you felt like your life was glitching out between july and november of 2025, that wasn't just the weed or the mercury retrograde. that was the trailer. now we’re getting the seven-year feature film.

before we dive into the rising signs, if you want to know exactly where this lightning is going to strike your specific, beautiful, messy chart (because let's be real, general horoscopes are just the appetizer), i'm offering deep-dive, personalized uranus in gemini readings over on my ko-fi. i’ll use your actual birth details and placidus houses to map out your personal revolution in a gorgeous pdf that includes journaling prompts and creative portals (experiments) you can jump thru in order to play with this energy more directly.

➡️ ➡️ ➡️ i want my personalized uranus in gemini reading! ⬅️ ⬅️ ⬅️

here’s the vibe for the next seven years. god help us all. ⚡⚡⚡

♋ cancer in the 12th house

when your emotional support system becomes your entire personality

cancer in the 12th house is like being an emotional archaeologist who can't stop digging up everyone else's feelings and claiming them as artifacts from your own past. you're wired to nurture and protect, except you're doing it in this weird psychic space where you can't tell where you end and other people's problems begin, which is both exhausting and strangely addictive.

you probably absorb emotions like a sponge that's forgotten it's supposed to be squeezed out occasionally. someone's having a bad day across town and somehow you're the one who needs a nap. your empathy is both a superpower and a curse—you feel everything so deeply that you've basically become a walking emotional weather station, and baby, it's always hurricane season.

the really twisted part is how you turn caregiving into self-sacrifice like it's some kind of noble calling. you'll set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm, then wonder why you're always cold. it's like you've confused love with erasure, and now you're disappearing a little more every time someone needs you, which is unfortunately most of the time.

you probably romanticize your own pain while trying to fix everyone else's, which is both poetic and completely backwards. you'll spend hours analyzing why your family dynamics were so messed up while simultaneously recreating those same patterns with literally everyone you meet. it's like being your own therapist and patient at the same time, except the therapist never shows up.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

practice emotional border control—figure out which feelings are actually yours (revolutionary concept)

create rituals that are just for you, not for taking care of anyone else

write letters to your past self, then burn them (therapeutic and dramatic)

say "this isn't mine to fix" out loud until it stops feeling like a lie

mantra: "i can love people without becoming them."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆𓂃 ོ☼𓂃 thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, you can buy me a ko-fi ˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗

♏ scorpio in the 12th house

living in a psychological thriller where you're both the detective and the murder suspect

scorpio in the 12th house feels like having a secret agent living in your subconscious who never tells you what mission you're supposed to be on. you're drawn to intensity, depth, and the kind of psychological complexity that makes other people uncomfortable, except it's all happening in this shadowy part of yourself that you can't quite access or explain to anyone else.

you may have trust issues with your own trust issues—like, you know you're paranoid, but what if you're not paranoid enough? every relationship feels like a potential betrayal waiting to happen, so you protect yourself by being the one who leaves first, or by never really showing up in the first place. you’re wearing emotional armor to a pool party and then wondering why you can’t swim.

the really messed up part is how much you're attracted to your own darkness. you'll spend hours analyzing your worst thoughts and impulses like they're fascinating specimens, which they are, but maybe not in the way that's healthy for everyday functioning. you want to understand everything—especially the ugly parts—but understanding becomes obsession, and obsession becomes the thing that eats you alive.

you probably think everyone else is hiding something (they are) while also being terrified of anyone discovering what you're hiding (which is probably way less scandalous than you think it is). it's like being in a constant state of mutually assured psychological destruction with everyone you meet.

antidotes for your 12th house:

share one secret with someone who's earned it (start small, like admitting you don't actually like that popular movie)

channel your intensity into creative projects instead of conspiracy theories about your neighbors

write down your darkest thoughts without trying to fix or analyze them

practice being vulnerable in tiny, manageable doses (radical experiment)

mantra: "my depth doesn't have to be secret in order to have value."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆𓂃 ོ☼𓂃 thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this, you can buy me a ko-fi ˗ˏˋ☕ˎˊ˗

♓ pisces in the 12th house

being a human sponge in an ocean of everyone else's feelings

pisces in the 12th house is like being born without emotional skin—everything gets in, nothing stays out, and you're never quite sure where you end and the rest of the world begins. you want to help, to heal, to save everyone from their pain, except you've basically become a psychological lost-and-found where people drop off their trauma and never come back to claim it.

you probably can't watch the news, go to crowded places, or have deep conversations without feeling like you need to lie down for three days afterward. your empathy is so intense it's basically a medical condition—you feel other people's hangovers, absorb their relationship drama, and somehow end up responsible for healing wounds you didn't create. it's like being an emotional volunteer firefighter who never gets to go home.

the really dangerous part is how you romanticize your own disappearing act. you'll sacrifice yourself for people who didn't ask you to, then feel hurt when they don't appreciate the martyrdom you performed without their permission. you confuse self-erasure with love, and now you're this ghostly version of yourself who's so busy saving everyone else that you've forgotten you're drowning.

you probably have complicated relationships with reality because fantasy often feels safer and more beautiful than whatever's actually happening. which makes sense, except when you're using dreams as a permanent escape hatch from a life you're supposed to be living. it's like building a beautiful boat and then never leaving the harbor because it might storm.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

ground yourself in your physical body every single day (touch grass, breathe deeply)

set limits on how much emotional labor you'll do for free (hint: way less than you currently do)

channel your need for transcendence into art, music, or writing instead of maladaptive daydreaming

practice showing up for yourself, first. promise it’s not selfish—just self care.

mantra: "i can be compassionate without being a doormat."

♊ gemini in the 12th house

when your brain has too many tabs open and half of them are crashing

gemini in the 12th is like having a very chatty roommate who lives entirely in your head and never stops asking questions you can't answer. you're wired for conversation, clarity, and the kind of mental stimulation that makes you feel alive, except you're trapped in a space where thoughts go to get weird and die.

your mind probably runs like a browser with seventeen tabs open—half of them loading something important, half of them playing random videos, and at least three of them frozen on existential dread. you want to talk things through, but every time you try to explain what's happening in your head, it sounds either completely insane or weirdly profound, and you're never sure which.

the really messed up part is how you end up becoming your own worst conversation partner. you'll spend hours rehearsing arguments with people who don't even know they're fighting with you, or analyzing interactions from three years ago like they're archaeological evidence of your social failures. it's like having a debate club in your brain where everyone's arguing and no one's keeping score.

you probably overshare at the worst possible moments—spilling secrets when you're nervous, saying exactly the wrong thing when you meant to say nothing, or explaining your entire psychological profile to someone who just asked how you're doing. then you lie awake replaying it all, which is both predictable and somehow surprising every time.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

brain dump everything into a journal regularly (your thoughts need somewhere to go that isn't other people)

take breaks from information—no news, no social media, no podcasts for a day (impossible???)

give your mind something concrete to chew on: puzzles, games, actual problems with solutions (bonus points if it’s whimsical!)

try meditating with a powerful mantra

mantra: "my thoughts don't have to make perfect sense to be valid."

♎ libra in the 12th house

performing for an audience that left the theater years ago

libra in the 12th house feels like being a people-pleaser in a world where you can never quite figure out what people actually want, so you just keep guessing and getting it wrong. you're hardwired for harmony and connection, except you're stuck in this weird space where every relationship feels like it's happening through frosted glass—you can see the shapes, but none of the details are clear.

you probably shape-shift so automatically that you've forgotten what your actual opinions are. someone asks what you want for dinner and you genuinely don't know, because you've spent so much time figuring out what everyone else wants that your own preferences got lost in translation. it's like being a mirror that's forgotten it has its own reflection.

the really twisted part is how you end up resenting the very people you're trying so hard to please. you bend over backwards to keep everyone happy, then feel invisible and unappreciated when they don't notice the effort, which is both completely understandable and entirely self-inflicted. you're basically setting yourself up to fail and then being surprised when it happens.

you want to be loved for who you are, but you're terrified that who you are isn't enough, so you present this carefully curated version of yourself instead. then you wonder why the love you receive feels hollow, which is like complaining that the fake id you made doesn't look anything like you.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

write down your actual opinions about things, especially the ones that might make people disagree with you

create something beautiful that no one else will ever see (and resist the urge to show it off)

practice saying no without explaining why (revolutionary concept)

spend time alone somewhere no one knows you and see who you are when you're not performing

mantra: "i belong to myself first"

♒ aquarius in the 12th house

being the weirdo's weirdo in a terminally empty house

having aquarius in the 12th house is like being a brilliant alien anthropologist who forgot they're supposed to be studying humans from the outside, not trying to fit in with them. you have all these incredible ideas about how the world could be better, more fair, more connected, except you're receiving these downloads in the loneliest corner of your psyche where no one can hear you.

you probably feel like you're living about twenty years in the future while everyone else is stuck in the past, which would be cool if it weren't so incredibly isolating. your brain works differently, you see patterns other people miss, and you have solutions to problems no one realizes exist yet. the catch? nobody asked, and half the time you can't explain it in a way that doesn't make you sound like you're from another planet.

the really cruel irony is that you desperately want to connect with people while simultaneously finding most human behavior baffling and exhausting. you crave authentic relationships but you've intellectualized intimacy to the point where it feels like a research project instead of something you actually participate in. it's like wanting to join the party but only if you can observe it through a telescope.

you probably spend a lot of time thinking about humanity as a collective while struggling to connect with individual humans, which is both philosophically interesting and practically useless when you're lonely at 2 am.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

find even one person who gets a fraction of how your brain works (and stop waiting for them to understand all of it)

turn your revolutionary energy inward—what needs to change in your own inner world?

do something tangible and helpful in the real world (volunteering, community work, anything that gets you out of your head)

limit your consumption of global catastrophe news (you can't fix everything, despite what your brain tells you)

mantra: "connection doesn't require complete understanding."

♉ taurus in the 12th house

when comfort becomes a cage you built yourself

taurus in the 12th house is like being hungry for something you can't name while simultaneously convinced that eating will somehow make you disappear. you want all the good stuff—soft blankets, reliable people, bank account balances that don't make you anxious—but there's this nagging voice in your head that says nice things don't last, so why get attached? which is both logical and completely exhausting.

you probably have secret stashes of everything. not just actual things (though your closet might tell a story), but emotional safety nets you've never told anyone about. backup plans for your backup plans. comfort foods you eat alone because sharing them feels too vulnerable. it's like you're prepping for an apocalypse that might just be tuesday.

the really twisted part is how you simultaneously crave control and know, deep down, that control is mostly an illusion we tell ourselves to feel better. so you white-knuckle your way through life, gripping onto whatever feels solid, while everything keeps shifting anyway. it's like trying to build a house on quicksand while insisting the problem is that you just need better blueprints.

you fantasize about perfect moments—the ideal meal, the perfect relationship, the kind of financial security that makes you sleep soundly—but you're terrified of actually reaching for them because what if they're not as good as you imagined? better to keep them safely in your head where nothing can ruin them.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

practice letting small things go—start with that expired yogurt, work your way up to old grudges

create sacred rituals around pleasure instead of hiding them like they're shameful

journal on what security actually feels like versus what you've been told it's supposed to look like

meditate on impermanence—not to kill desire but to make peace with its edges

mantra: "i can enjoy this even if it doesn’t last forever."

♍ virgo in the 12th house

being the world's most anxious perfectionist in a house made of chaos

having virgo in the 12th house is like being a control freak trapped in a salvador dalí painting—everything's melting and you're just standing there with a clipboard, taking notes about how wrong it all is. you want order, precision, and clear instructions for how to fix everything, but this placement is basically the universe saying "lol, no."

you've probably appointed yourself the unofficial therapist, organizer, and problem-solver for everyone around you, which would be noble if it weren't also completely compulsive. you can't help it—you see what's broken and you want to fix it, even when "it" is someone else's entire life and they didn't ask for your help. fun fact: they usually don't want it either, but that won't stop you from trying.

the really messed up part is how your perfectionism gets weaponized against yourself. nothing you do is ever quite right, which is both accurate (because perfection is impossible) and completely beside the point. you end up being your own harshest critic while simultaneously being everyone else's unpaid life coach, which is a special kind of hell.

you probably have chronic guilt about not doing enough, not being good enough, not helping enough—basically not being enough in every possible way. it's like carrying around a tiny prosecutor in your head who never sleeps and has very strong opinions about your life choices.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

set sacred boundaries—"no" is a complete sentence and also a holy word

keep a "done" list instead of endless to-do lists (celebrate completion instead of chasing more tasks)

create chaos on purpose—paint something messy, let it be ugly, survive the discomfort

practice compassion for yourself first, then extend it to others (radical reversal)

mantra: "i am not responsible for fixing every broken thing i encounter."

♑ capricorn in the 12th house

climbing a ladder that might not actually exist

capricorn in the 12th house feels like being the CEO of a company that only exists in your dreams—you're working incredibly hard toward goals that keep shifting every time you get close to them. you want achievement, recognition, and the kind of success that makes people take you seriously, but it's all happening in this weird foggy realm where nothing feels quite real.

you probably measure your worth by your productivity, which is problematic when half of what you're producing exists only in your own mind. you've got spreadsheets for your goals, timelines for your dreams, and a work ethic that would make your ancestors proud, except none of it feels like it's actually moving you forward. it's like running on a treadmill in the dark—lots of effort, unclear progress.

the guilt is probably overwhelming. you feel like you should be doing more, achieving more, being more impressive, but you're not even sure what "more" looks like or why you want it so badly. it's like being hungry for applause that never comes, so you just keep performing harder and harder for an audience that might not actually be watching.

the really cruel irony is that your obsession with building something lasting might be the very thing preventing you from actually enjoying your life. you're so focused on the destination that you forgot to notice you're already walking, which is both poetic and deeply frustrating.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

create goals that serve joy, not just status (revolutionary concept, i know)

treat rest like business meetings: literally schedule it, make it non-negotiable

write down every fear of failure and burn them monthly (funeral pyre for shame)

practice being worthy without achieving anything—let the grand fact of your existence be enough

♈ aries in the 12th house

vibe phrase: "the locked room where rage whispers instead of screams"

okay so imagine aries in the 12th like a soldier who got left behind after the war ended. no battlefield. just silence and a lot of teeth grinding and nowhere to put all that fire.

you were probably told early on that anger was ugly or inappropriate or "not nice," so you swallowed it. whole. and now it lives in your body like a second heartbeat you can't quite locate but can always feel—this low hum of rage that leaks into your dreams as red ink.

confrontation? nightmare fuel. you'd rather self-immolate in private than actually tell someone they hurt you. so you start fires nobody else can see but everyone can definitely smell.

and the irony—god the irony—is how much energy it takes to pretend you don't have any. you want to erupt. you also want to vanish. which is basically the entire plot of your life in one sentence.

when you finally do let it out? it feels like the world splitting open. terrifying and glorious and embarrassingly overdue, like finally sneezing after an hour of almost-sneezing.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

move your body daily—i mean it, rage transmuted through movement becomes something almost holy

create a private ritual where you name the anger out loud without apologizing for having it

journal about every single time you didn't speak up, then write what you wish you had said (no one has to see this but you)

meditate but not in silence—try drumming or something primal so you don't implode

mantra: "i am allowed to exist loudly, even when no one is listening"

♌ leo in the 12th house

vibe phrase: "the theater with no audience, just endless curtains"

leo in the 12th feels like being a star trapped backstage forever. you're dressed in gold, you know your lines, the stage is right there—but the curtain never opens and the seats are empty and the spotlight keeps flickering like a dying bulb.

you crave applause like oxygen but you're also fucking terrified of the judgment that comes with being seen, so you stay hidden and call it humility.

spoiler: it's not humility. it's fear wearing a really convincing costume.

so you perform for ghosts. for mirrors. for the endless parade of what-ifs that haunt you at 3am when you can't sleep. in dreams you're always magnificent—radiant, worshipped, finally enough—but then you wake up and fold yourself back into something small and almost disposable.

and when someone actually notices you? when they see even a fraction of your light? the fear of exposure gets so loud you can barely hear the compliment underneath it.

you want worship but you resent the altar. classic leo 12th house contradiction.

this isn't about ego. it's about the quiet, bone-deep ache of wanting to matter in a world that might never look up.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

give yourself private rituals of adoration—write love letters to your own brilliance that no one else will read

create art that no one will see and let that be enough

practice receiving compliments without deflecting or making jokes (harder than it sounds)

literally burn your fear of visibility—write it down, light it on fire, let it go

mantra: "i shine even when no eyes are on me"

♐ sagittarius in the 12th house

vibe phrase: "the map that leads everywhere and nowhere at once"

sagittarius in the 12th feels like being a traveler who lost their passport inside a dream. you're wired for horizons—big skies, open roads, the kind of freedom that makes your chest feel like it's made of wind—but here the roads all collapse into fog and every escape route just loops back to you.

cruel irony, honestly.

you romanticize freedom so hard it becomes its own prison. solitude doesn't feel like liberation, it feels like exile. so you keep planning these grand adventures that never leave the page. vision boards and pinterest boards and google docs full of itineraries you'll never book.

faith is supposed to be your oxygen but secretly? you doubt everything. god, the universe, luck, the point of existence, whether any of this shit actually means anything—until you feel like a walking contradiction in human skin.

sometimes you chase meaning so hard it just disintegrates under your hands and all you're left with is restless bones and like twelve unread philosophy books gathering dust.

when you feel trapped—and you feel trapped a lot—you fantasize about burning your entire life down just to feel movement again. just to know you're still capable of leaving.

you call it wanderlust. it's really an ache to escape the prison of your own spiraling mind.

and the worst part? you still keep a bag packed. just in case the dream suddenly opens a door.

antidotes for your 12th house shadow:

pick one spiritual practice and root into it—stick with it even when you get bored (especially when you get bored)

travel inward—meditations that feel like landscapes, not checklists

journal on what freedom actually feels like in your body, not what instagram says it looks like

channel your expansion hunger into learning something new without needing to physically flee

i was up scrolling ig last night and saw this incredible meme from @sweetiepieangelclub that was a pic of zohran mamdani at the club, smiling, as he does, and the text overlay just said: “get that dusty old reptilian timeline out of here. we got utopian sweetie pie angel politicians out with us at the club now <3”

it's funny, but also like...yeah! as i was scrolling, i was just like...we are TRULY living on a new timeline. like things will never be the same. this feels like a major turning point. everything is on fire, but it's a purifying fire.

and yeah, we’re totally living thru then end of the old world. and it just keeps spinning. everything feels like chaos because we’re seeing the old guard grasp desperately to hold onto life, even in the face of their INEVITABLE demise. naturally, my mind’s been in a hundred different (creative) places. the world is a shitstorm; it’s easy to feel overwhelmed when things look so dark. however, i truly believe the best antidote to doom is creativity. i’ve been experiencing my own personal shitstorm for some time now, and as they say: what doesn’t kill you makes you more creative.

in the midst of the dumpster fire that is my life, i’ve been seeding several creative projects in total darkness. this blog—deep end astro—is one of them. as saturn and neptune prepare to meet up at 0 degrees in the sign of my ascendant, just two weeks from when i write this, i have to say: i’m sooooo ready for this rebirth. 🐦‍🔥 my old identity has died and i’ve been in the womb of a dark night of the soul, receiving the nutrients i need in order to create a life i’m proud of, moving forward.

that said, i’ve been in a very dark mood lately. i don’t mean depressed—i mean i’ve been very attracted to gothic themes and visual aesthetics. i even started making a moodboard for (one of) my substack newsletters that is yet to launch. here’s one of the collages i made for my goth mood board ✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚୨ৎ

i've been adding some books to my TBR pile that fall somewhere in the category of gothic literature. i was reading the wikipedia page for gothic fiction and i was really into this description of characteristics that make something '𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔠' ::

"...an environment of fear, the threat of supernatural events, and the intrusion of the past upon the present."

that very much describes the space in which the shadow seems to inhabit. it's not a coincidence we often project the shadow as a literal demon. as i lean into this mood, i’ve been finding more art that seems to soothe the dark parts of my soul. like this chicago-based band i discovered last night: FRENCH POLICE. their vibe is like dark wave romance, and i LOVE IT. my fave song is called ‘BABY’

anyway, i’m writing this just to say, for anyone who needs to hear this: let the old shit die, baby.

it’s gonna go no matter what, so lean into the darkness, face your shadows, take a breath and then keep on going. i’ve made the mistake of feeling stuck in the dark, feeling overwhelmed by my shadows and trying to run from them. this only delayed the inevitable and kept me trapped in a cage of my own design.

life is cyclical, we ALL go thru shit and that’s why i look to the stars as my guide. it’s been really helpful to understand the challenges i’m facing and be able to reframe them thru the archetypal narrative of the zodiac (and the tarot, shoutout!). being able to look at my chart, then see how each planet’s movement thru the sky lines up so specifically to the timing of shifts and events and opportunities showing up and shaking up my life all these years is CRAZY.

learning the symbols of the stars has given me the language to have deeper conversations with the Universe. i’m able to understand the need for my difficulties and struggle, to view it as a gift and an opportunity to level up.

that said: shadow work is king and queen. you can’t evolve for shit if you never face, accept, and integrate your shadows. so over the next few weeks i’m going to explore the shadow (with the help of some of my fave jungian-coded books), as it appears in the darker houses: the 4th, the 8th, and the 12th.

i’m starting with the 12th House (read my 12th house writeup here to get a taste!) because Saturn and Neptune have been (and will continue to be) in my 12th house for a while now. my 12th-6th house axis takes up the largest slice of my birth chart, and my 12th house spans through pisces and aries. i’ve already experienced one shakeup on the full moon in leo earlier this week—but i knew it was coming. and allllll the shadows have come out to play, as they do: but i’ve developed skills and found tools to help me embrace them instead of run away.

anywayyyyyy, hope you enjoyed this little intro post to my upcoming series exploring how the shadow shows up in our birth charts, specifically in the 4th, 8th, and 12th houses. the series is called deal with it: your cosmic shadow decoded and when i’m finished in a few weeks, i’ll make a pinned post with links to all the posts for future reference. ok, love y’all! have a 𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔥 day!

👻 the 12th house

the 12th house in astrology is a mysterious house. it’s inhabitants are ghosts who tell tales with no ending, speak words no one understands, whose form &origin are unknowable. when entering the twelfth house, one forgets why, where, when, &how; existence can only be a question mark. from outside, it appears as bodies &notions that are often rejected, maligned, &demonized by those who fear ambiguity, chaos, &the unknown.

it’s the house of endings, which must be experienced in order to complete the cycle of life. this means literal death as well as symbolic loss. it knows of the places beyond death. the twelfth house is nonsense; it holds things that can’t be contained. monsters &spirits, the undead &those beings &thoughtforms we keep alive through myth &ritual. the 12th house sees into eternity &beyond.

i like thinking about the 12th as the lost and found of the zodiac. it’s the last house, the final resting place of everything we’ve ever done, never got to do, missed out on, forgot about &heard someone else did. it’s a house full of secrets. go inside &you’ll hear a disembodied voice whisper in your ear an uncomfortable truth you thought you’d buried. here lies our unconscious tendencies, addictions, dreams &fears. hidden enemies live here: when you open the curtains to let the moonlight in, they stand behind you suddenly illuminated, knife in hand. in this house we’re shown that which we don’t want to see.

the 12th house loves those dark institutions associated with the horrors of human experience: insane asylums, hospitals, homeless shelters, nursing &funeral homes, prisons & military detention camps. this house is an endless mess of corridors. the walls are multi-color abstractions painted with the mad, gestural strokes of the collective unconscious. i can’t prove it, but i sense that when Carl Jung’s strange revelations re: human consciousness got him rejected by Freud &friends, he took his new moniker as mystic, walked straight inside the 12th house &never left.

the 12th house sees the strange &invites it to a candlelight dinner. it is through instinct &psychic senses that the 12th house recognizes &maps the impossible. in darkness, intuition thrives. how else can one point to that which can’t be articulated, described, proven, or pinned down? it’s a house for the unreal. a place that holds space for an eternity of questions without answers.

this vast void with an aversion to definition or boundaries induces primal, visceral fear in a culture that teaches people to see the unknown as a threat. modern imperial powers compulsively dissect, deconstruct, classify &categorize the human experience to a degree that discourages any impulse toward genuine awe. to admit how little we know would be to confess something shameful. knowledge is power, but only when it’s the kind of knowledge that fits within the paradigm of the powers that be. all other information is discarded &disregarded: folktales, myths, legends, psychedelic visions, rites &rituals, the esoteric &the occult are rendered suspicious, false, superstitious, primitive &nonsensical. these things, then, become the playground of the twelfth house.

the human experience doesn’t get easier or less complex the more we seek to trap it in the material realm. in ignoring the high strangeness of life &rejecting that which can’t be whittled down into an easily consumable package, the things of the twelfth house only become spookier. the helpful &mysterious daemon becomes a dastardly &malevolent demon, hell bent on human corruption. building altars to strange gods whose worship includes activities that have no perceived value within the clean &commercialized Apple store that is Western culture is seen as a threatening practice belonging to degenerates &madmen.

looking at the twelfth house &its themes with acceptance &curiosity, however, looks like embracing the unknown, sitting comfortably in darkness without running scared, &accepting that the human experience is more mystery (&madness) than not. it’s in the twelfth house that we see miracles most clearly. it’s the house of spiritual transcendence. people who dance with the shadows of the 12th house are the most capable of caring for those society deems worthless lost causes: the schizo, the leper, the anti-social lunatic living in the woods, the abuser &the abused.

the twelfth house, though it may be haunted, gives one access to all manner of unearthly things, ghosts notwithstanding. this includes true meditation, achieving moksha, accessing nirvana or the Buddha-mind, astral travel, the akashic field, &other such spiritual idea(l)s. universal mysteries &pathways beyond the earthly realms can only be pondered in the deep waters of the twelfth house. like any true psychonaut, yogi, or magus knows, one must be willing to cross the threshold of the unknown in order to access the wisdom buried deep within yourself.