How I Reclaimed my Birth Month
The depression started early. July would come and midway through I would already be dreading the next month, stewing in anticipation of the drop, the sadness, the reclusiveness . . . And this didn’t happen because of some note-worthy event — At least not that I can pinpoint. I remember it from an early age. Birthday parties felt like pressure; There was this expectation to perform and have things turn out just right, and for some reason or another I always fell short. I remember the year my family planned a surprise party for me and I felt so betrayed that they’d brought me to my Aunt’s house under false pretenses and was so overwhelmed at the thought of everyone being there for me that I locked myself in the car. I couldn’t have been older than five.
Thing is, I actually do like being the centre of attention. I do well when all focus is on me. I can command the room and have been told that when I walk in, all eyes turn to me. It’s how I carry myself, my height, my long legs, but really it’s my overall demeanor. For the longest time though, I did not want to stand in this power. Now, I relish in it.
What changed?
I remember speaking to a friend and client, Tina Llewellyn (you can find her work here), and relaying this to her and she said to me that often, people have trouble around their birth month because it calls them to stand in their Sun Sign and to find balance in it (whatever it may be). For me, my Sun Sign is Leo, and it is tied closely to innate power, confidence, courage: All things solar plexus.
It means when eyes turn to me, I have a healthy balance of embracing it, entertaining it, and also not letting it go to my head.
It means making aligned decisions with conviction, regardless of what others think (but without being dismissive or condescending when they do bring up their thoughts around the scenario).
It means recognizing what I deserve in relationships and making decisions that affirm that treatment, and allow me to be in mutually reciprocal companionship.
When I turned 30, I started making the transition.
When I felt the pain and sadness come, I leaned in hard. I let the pendulum swing fully into the shadow, to the narrative of all the extremes of my Leo self and I felt into the wounds, and past stories that had reaffirmed my internalizing those narratives.
I cried, I screamed, I punched pillows. I felt it all.
And then, I began making choices aligned with my Leo.
I planned a solo trip for my birthday rather than leaving the day to chance. I did a solo hike and drive and stayed at my favourite lodge. I invested in a spa treatment. I cut ties with my birth father and with someone I had labelled my best friend for years.
I made a decision to only invest in relationships where folks were willing to see all of me, honestly, as I was in the present moment.
I became open to celebration as a form of self-liberation.
I chose me.
