When I uploaded my natal chart to an AI, I just wanted to know if my side quests had a point, or if I was just avoiding actual study. Herbal medicine was supposed to be my new path—but instead of snoring through anatomy videos, I was decoding dreams that kept dragging me deeper into my family’s “definitely don’t open this box” history.
Apparently, I’m the fixer. No, not the chosen one—just the gobby, nosy one who won’t shut up until a queue of dead ancestors gets their closure. I’m the one who doesn’t clutch her pearls (or even blink) when she learns why Great-Uncle Jimmy may have been committed. And so, my ability to keep my eyeballs open while they’re on fire got me the job.
My chart didn’t just offer clarity. It handed me a hand grenade and a shovel. Suddenly, my dreams, intuition, and late-night archive diving all started to make uncanny sense.
I never knew much about astrology. I liked it in the casual, “Taurus is stubborn” kind of way. But now? Now I was hooked. It felt like someone had blown the lid off a chest—and its contents had my name all over it.
My Uncle Bought Me Scabs in a Box
Looking at the output, I started picking through the threads AI threw at me. Scorpio rising? Ruled by the eighth house—the house of death, rebirth, sex, and secrets.
Why, of course I’d been obsessed with the macabre since childhood. My uncle sealed that when he got my cousin a Fame make-up kit and me a latex scab set. Though all I really wanted was her red eyeshadow.
Wednesday’s Child Is Full of Woe… and Fire
It had been there since birth—the internal fire. I was a sleepless baby who bawled like I was demanding a refund for being born.
Apparently, Wednesday’s child is full of woe. No one told my parents they’d been handed a miniature Witchiepoo with fight-or-flight as the only settings.
As I got older, the urgency kicked in. The need to do everything now. The boredom that makes you bite your fingernails to the bone.
That was my Moon in Aries—a box of fireworks and touch paper for a fuse.
Pluto, Queen of the Chart
At the cusp of the tenth house—career, public life, legacy—sat Pluto. There she was, filing her nails on my Midheaven like she owned it. And tbh, she did.
Pluto: planet of transformation, death, rebirth, power, control—in my mind’s eye, a chain-smoking trans femme: fabulous gown, looking down with a steely stare and perfect makeup.
The more I studied, the more I realised she wasn’t suggesting transformation—she demanded it. And if I ran away? She’d haul my ass back into line.
Pluto made sure I had the hots for secrets, and life events that change your soul forever.
My chart didn’t whisper a calling—it kicked the door in shouting, “Who wants a revolution?” Hence, I’m a girl you can kick to the floor, and I’ll come back sharper. Go Pluto.
My Soul’s Purpose Made Me Poop a Bit
The North Node is your soul’s purpose. Mine sat in that same tenth house, demanding I be public, fair, and collaborative in my work. Cue deep breath.
Ha! Like, have you met me? Because:
A) balancing anything is a real challenge for me, and
B) being all out in public? Yeah, that’ll start a hot sweat.
My life’s work? It tracked perfectly with what I find most challenging.
House Party in the House No One Wants to Hang Out In
A stellium is three or more planets in one house—a celestial hot pot. I had Mars, Jupiter, and Lilith all crammed into the eighth house. The house of death, rebirth, sex, and secrets.
As if Mars the activator and Lilith the dark side weren’t intense enough, Jupiter made them both bigger, bolder, and impossible to ignore.
My stellium was like trying to ignore someone talking loudly about their sex life in a sauna.
Madman Sends Texts From the Attic
The fun didn’t stop there. Next up was Uranus—the cosmic weirdo. Wherever it shows up in a chart, it brings disruption.
Mine was in the twelfth house, the celestial haunted attic.
This basically meant I had Dr. Frankenstein upstairs, sending me intuitive Morse code via electric surges, sudden flashes of insight, and trauma dumping on me in my dreams. Those same dreams and gut punches that had suddenly become impossible to ignore.
Death Doula. Wanted
Basically, my chart was like:
Hya luv, just letting you know you’re a shadow worker.
But not just for you—for others too. Oh, and all that dirt digging you’ve been doing? It’s not a side quest; it’s the main event. Just one last thing… you need to do it all out loud, in public or it doesn’t count. OK, ta-ra!
Reading the information was validating, to say the least—and whilst it was exactly what I was looking for, I was stunned at how eerily it made sense.
The list went on.
Hallucinating with Neptune
Neptune represents dreams, spirituality, and intuition. Here it was, busting moves with Scorpio in my rising.
This meant I’m dreamy, spiritual, drawn to the unseen, sensitive to my environment—but also susceptible to others projecting onto me.
That reminded me of the times I’ve often been profiled, one of which resulted in my child not being diagnosed with ADHD until adulthood.
Communicating or Excavating? Meh. Same Thing
I found that Mercury, the planet of communication, sat opposite Pluto.
The synopsis: I don’t do light chat. My brain doesn’t think; it interrogates. It’s either “let’s trauma bond” or “let’s nope.”
I’m there, naming the thing no one wants to talk about.
Great when your school drops its accreditation and you send twenty questions wanting to know the ins and outs of why.
Not so great when your nephew doesn’t want to discuss his circumcision in detail.
The Weirdo Upstairs Tangos with Fire
Mars squared with Uranus meant these two aspects were in a challenging alignment, giving me a disruptive, electric signature.
This may have been what my auntie meant when she nicknamed me “Miss Electric” aged nine—and why, when I had one of my dream downloads, I immediately started to dig into it like it paid my rent.
Emotional Radio. No Volume Control
Another tense alignment: Moon squared with Jupiter.
What it meant? Big passion, enthusiasm, drive. Everything, just… big.
Cue, my emotions having no volume—so I cry my balls out watching commercials and explode at traffic wardens when they’re trying to give me a ticket whilst I’m paying at the meter.
Closing the Ancestral Loops
The balsamic Moon. I was here to close out all the unfinished business of previous lives… the queue of ancestors who’d dragged me here, plus anyone up for rooting about in their drawer of secrets, apparently.
My chart? A loop of death, rebirth, transformation, and shadow work. You’d think I was about to take off. But no, I got a Sun in Taurus in my 6th house. How kind!
Thankfully I had a hearty dose of earthy stubbornness to keep me anchored in the house of work, daily habits, and service.
Here, my herbal work rose, like a dandelion through the concrete. I wasn’t meant to drift off into la la land—thank the Lord—I was here to root it all into earth.
I came looking for clarity; I got handed a job description. My herbal work, my volunteering, my dream journals, the ancestral baggage—they weren’t side quests.
They were the whole flipping point.
Apparently, this is my work. WTF.
