When the stars conspire against you.
The illusion of choice entices with sweetly whispered lies.
Fate. Destiny. Purpose. Big words that conjure skepticism, fear, or inspiration depending on the listener. For me, it’s a combination. Internally shuddering and somehow relieved at the same time. The one thing I never wanted is the only thing meant to liberate me.
Yes. That kind of liberation. Enlightenment. Self-realization. Actualization. More big words. More feelings. Whatever you want to call it, the stars conspire against me. My psychological conditioning and aversion to this one basic, human instinct which I have never felt. The biological clock doth not tick inside this mortal coil.
Babies are not my thing. They’re nice. I like kids. But that aching need to have a child? It’s just not there. It doesn’t exist. Until a few years ago, the sight of a baby made me want to die or kill. Sometimes both. There is nothing in my psyche that supports the idea of me becoming a mother.
Astrology says otherwise. Reading after reading; system after system; visions and dreams. Year after grueling year, the universe and I bash heads over what should feel joyous. To me it is agony. And this is why it must happen. To atone for the harm done in a previous life. Rectifying ancestral karma. Bloodline curse. No matter the language chosen to describe it, the unfortunate fact remains.
I cannot achieve lasting peace until I pop out a damn kid.
Oh, sure, go ahead and psychoanalyze me. Been there, done that. Make up some story about how this is all a perverse way to manipulate myself into adhering to societal expectations that a woman is meant to birth the next generation. I wish. That would be great. Believe me, I’ve tried to make this the case just so the fatalistic component would be rationalized.
But no. Just me sobbing while this mystic rectangle demands my womb as sacrifice so I may suffer the bane of womanhood. I could choose to ignore all of this and go about my modern witchy ways. That would have me back in another incarnation to confront what I avoided plus a host of other karmic debt accumulated on the warpath of denial.
Choice is an illusion. We make choices, yes. We have free will. But mark my regrettably insightful words; ultimately, that thing which you avoid the most may be the very thing that is meant for you to bring an end to this vicious cycle of rebirth. Lovely soft whispers in your ear sound so sweet when presented with that freedom to delay the inevitable. Procrastination until it all dries up and leaves us barren.
Suffering ends with acceptance. Astrologically, it would take a great deal of effort for pregnancy to be avoided at this time. A great deal more to be spent if it is avoided.
Reluctance. Dissolution. I wave the white flag and close my eyes.
I curse the stars as they laugh over me.