Overwhelm Retrogrades and Astrology
On finding my worth in the darkness of Venus Retrograde
This is how it feels in the middle of Venus Retrograde: to recognise how much of my sense of worth has been tied to beauty, to being in a flow, to being able to spread love and joy, to embodying a certain frequency. When I can do these things, I feel as though I have a place in the world. But when the retrogrades come, I struggle to find my footing.
The broken, the messy, the unconfident, the unknowing version of me has worth, too.
My worth doesn’t have to be projected onto some imagined future version of myself, someone who is more healed, more certain, more radiant or somehow in a better state. I am love, and I am lovable, exactly as I am.
There is value in the darkness, in the loss of light, in the moments when life doesn’t flow with such ease.
It’s easy to write these truths. It’s much harder to live by them.
I’m finding myself reluctant to look too closely at the outer world. It’s messy and loud, and everywhere I turn, people and animals are suffering. How do I stay open to the world without becoming overwhelmed by its pain? How do I make space for the messiness, the suffering and the uncertainty, while still creating a sense of safety and groundedness within myself? How do I stop living as though I’m in a constant state of fight or flight?
Lately, I’ve found myself sleeping more, struggling to get up, and filling my diary with events, experiences and connections that might support a shift in my reality. And then, when the time comes, I find myself viewing them from the comfort of home instead exhausted and .
Get Emerald Temple - Guide’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Perhaps there’s a part of me that longs for connection and change, while another part is simply asking for safety, rest and a little less demand. I’m caught somewhere between the life I want to participate in and the capacity I have to meet it.
I want everyone to feel safe, myself included, in these de-stabilising times. I don’t want to turn my back on the world. I want to be part of creating the kind of world I wish to live in: one that is kinder, more compassionate, more conscious of suffering, and more willing to care.
But how do I begin to create that outer world when the world around me feels so chaotic? How do I stay engaged without becoming consumed? How do I keep my heart open without abandoning myself in the process?
This is the overwhelm.
And despite all the voices proclaiming that we were made for these times, I have to admit that I’m struggling.
Perhaps being made for these times doesn’t mean we move through them effortlessly. Perhaps it means learning how to be human within them, with all our limitations, our uncertainty, our tenderness and our fear.
I don’t have the answers. I’m trying to find my way through, to practise the very things I believe in, and to remember that I don’t have to be the brightest, most hopeful or most together version of myself to have something of value to offer.
If you’re reading this and finding it hard, too, I hope you know you’re not alone.
We don’t have to turn our struggles into wisdom before we’re allowed to share them. We don’t have to find the light immediately.
Sometimes, perhaps, it’s enough to sit together in the darkness for a while.
