What Truly Letting Go Looks Like

My friend Carmen brought up Pluto transits in a comment from yesterday’s post:

Arrrgh. Tell me again about Pluto transiting the ascendant???

I think her first word pretty much sums up Pluto transits.  Hers is going across the ascendant.  Her whole self identity is dying . . . but that’s not all . . . there are the Pluto/Uranus squares that have been happening . . . which have been pounding humanity into the ground.  So . . . if Pluto is going across her ascendant . . . Uranus is aiming somewhere at least near her IC.  Her identity with Pluto . . . her foundation (core self) with Uranus . . . is where this is all hitting in her life.  And omg . . . these transits have not had any mercy on the beautiful soul that is the woman I know as Carmen.

I wrote a reply that was specific to her . . . but I know this is something that we’re all dealing with somewhere in our lives.  I know I’m certainly seeing it in my Facebook feeds from my friends.  This is deep and serious stuff that is happening globally.

While Carmen has been facing the Pluto portion of these squares across her ascendant, I’ve been experiencing the Uranus transit across my ascendant.  Between the two of us, we have the entire cardinal cross covered in our charts, but in different areas . . . which is probably why the universe had us bump into each other.  “Here . . . you two might have something to talk about.  If not now . . . soon.”  O.O

I’m about to throw up (as in show . . . not puke, although it looks like it . . . I puke in heart shapes, what do you do?) one of my visual aids.  It’s showing what part of the maelstrom I’m trying to navigate.

Transiting Uranus Conjunct Ascendant.  Transiting Pluto Square Natal Pluto.  Transiting Pluto Square Ascendant and Transiting Uranus.  Natal Uranus in Scorpio.

Transiting Uranus Conjunct Ascendant. Transiting Pluto Square Natal Pluto. Transiting Pluto Square Ascendant and Transiting Uranus. Natal Uranus in Scorpio.

The green hearts are where those planets currently are in the sky (transiting).  The gold hearts are the same planets, but where they are located in my natal chart.

I’m not even sure where to start.  I listed all the notables in the caption of the picture, so I won’t repeat them here.  But that’s some heavy duty stuff going on.  Pluto in the 10th house . . . oy vey.  I didn’t think I was going to survive Pluto gnashing on my MC several years back (opposing my IC like a boss).  It hit my Neptune/Moon (IC rules moon).

During that time my teenage son attempted suicide.  He swallowed a handful of pills.  I’ll never . . . ever forget that moment in the living room . . . him laying on the floor . . . me holding him in my arms rocking and crying . . . having already screamed at 911 twice to get there faster because my baby was dying.

Remembering my son coming back to consciousness long enough to tell me to not cry . . . that everything was going to be okay . . . and that he loved me . . . that it was getting cold . . . watching the life fade from his eyes . . . and then closing them.

This is an example of a Pluto transit.  Sometimes Pluto is a metaphorical death . . . sometimes it’s actual death.  My son did survive.  But just barely . . . it could have gone either way.

Later that night, as I sat alone in the waiting room wondering whether I was going to be planning a funeral or if life was going to give me another chance to try again . . . I experienced one of Pluto’s main lessons first hand.  I was so far pulled into myself trying to escape what was happening, that I’m surprised I didn’t actually turn inside out.

I was running through every scenario in my head . . . what could I have done differently?  This wasn’t our first trip to the ER.  He had spent a week in the hospital for suicide watch when he was 12.  I educated myself about everything . . . what signs to look for when someone’s depressed . . . I took him to therapists . . . doctors.  I tore myself inside out to be a better mother.

And yet . . . there I was a couple years later.  Ripping myself apart again for failing as his mother.  Huddled in a ball on a waiting room couch, screaming at myself inside . . . asking what I did wrong . . . what did I not do that I should have.  When suddenly something gave way in me.  Everything went quiet inside of me.  A truth had been spoken outside of my screaming . . . but still inside of me.

“There’s nothing you could have done.  You cannot control what another person does.  You have to let go of thinking you can save him.  You have to come to peace with the fact that one day you very well may lose him . . . and that there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

In that moment . . . I let go of trying to keep my son alive . . . not because I didn’t love him . . . but because I don’t have that kind of power and control over another human’s path.  Who am I to say when it is time for him to die?  It’s his life . . . it’s his path . . . not mine.  So that part of me trying to control every aspect of his life in order to “save” him . . . surrendered control to the universe.

That’s when the quiet and peace had flooded me.  That’s when I became aware of a multitude of light beings in my presence.  They had been there all along . . . they were the ones who had communicated that information to me.  It was said with complete compassion . . . they saw how I was suffering . . . but as long as I was closed down and trying to control the situation in any way . . . I was also closed to them . . . I couldn’t receive their comfort and their help.

When I let go . . . I opened to a much larger awareness about life and our place in it.  I saw how much we do in an effort to prevent or stop things that we’re scared of happening.  We don’t even realize we’re doing it.  That’s Pluto.  It’s the places that scare us the most.  It’s the things that we’d do anything . . . absolutely anything . . . to not have happen.  Pluto will hold those things in your face until you finally open your eyes.

The one thing I couldn’t bear to lose in my life was my son.  Any and everything else in life, I could handle.  But from the moment my son was born, I was plagued with nightmares and fears of him dying . . . and I couldn’t handle it.  I couldn’t breathe.  I lived in terror of something happening to him.

So without seeing that I was doing it, I sheltered him . . . smothered him . . . I controlled every aspect of his life in the name of keeping him safe.  And it nearly killed him.  I was absolutely blind to it.  Others would just say to me that I was just being a good mom or a protective mom . . . but nobody ever did something like an intervention.  Because Pluto is not something easily seen or noticed by others or ourselves.

If my son hadn’t tried to kill himself . . . I don’t know that I would have ever seen it on my own.  That’s the fact of the matter.  He didn’t do it to hurt me . . . he did it to make his own hurt inside stop . . . he didn’t understand the pain and he didn’t know what to do about it.  All he knew is that it was too much.  That is also Pluto.  When you feel so absolutely alone in your pain, and you’re so far in the dark that you can’t see any light or hope . . . that is also Pluto.  My son has Pluto in Scorpio.

We both have completely changed our lives since then.  I’m more willing to let him do his own thing.  I am aware every minute of how precious my time is with him . . . so I’m more present when we interact.  We both have put in a lot of years working on getting our defenses down and rebuilding trust between each other.

Every day we become more open and loving and understanding of each other and all our own strange quirks.  I appreciate him for how he is . . . no matter how contrary and sometimes frustrating it is to me.  We’ve learned how to feel through the dark together as a team instead of as competitors.  It’s no longer a competition about who hurts more inside.  It’s a give and take . . . here is my owie . . . here let me help you hug that owie out.

Whenever I find myself falling back into wanting to control him for “his sake” . . . I remember that he came here with his own path and his own purpose and that he needs to find it for himself.  I’m here for support and love.  I’m here to be home base for him when he inevitably falls down in his effort to try and figure out this life thing.  That’s my role as mom.  Not to judge him . . . not to force him against his own (strong) inner will . . . but to mentor him . . . give him guidance.

So . . . yeah . . . this didn’t end up being so much about the stuff I said at the beginning.  Just like Pluto transits . . . sometimes I don’t have control over what decides to come out in my posts.  And I just let it be what it is without apology or trying to change it into what I think it should be.