A Gentle Saturn Return Intro

Any time someone mentioned my—or our— upcoming Saturn return, the one due to hit on May 24th, 2025, I'd close my eyes, cover my ears, and yell just to avoid hearing another word about it. Even though this return would only last until September, every story I heard made it sound horrid: people forced into uncomfortable situations, stripped down and rebuilt in the name of "personal growth."

On May 24th, I opened my eyes.

And the world was not engulfed in flames. Yet.

I accepted that change was inevitable. And change did come. It was painful—but not in any of the ways I had imagined.

Some of the external shifts didn't shock me. In fact, a few felt like they'd been sitting on the tip of my tongue, waiting to be spoken into existence. But the changes that happened within me? Those blindsided me completely.

I am a high anxiety fueled human. Someone once told me they were pretty sure the Inside Out character Anxiety was modeled after me, and honestly...it clicked. But somewhere along the way, something shifted. I don't want to say I stopped caring entirely—it was more that I stopped reacting the ways I always had. Situations that once sent my mind spiraling for hours or days would pop up, and my heart rate stayed steady. My body didn't brace for impact anymore. A lot of that anxiety was also replaced with anger, anger that I let people or situations get me to that point in the past.

That summer, I was forced into stillness after two surgeries. I spent most of it alone. And when I could finally get back outside, I said yes to everything. Axe throwing. Long Sundays at an herbal shop downtown that lets you smoke inside—swinging from their ceiling swing like a child. Beach weekends filled with laughter over my fake Labubu while listening to my aunt and her middle-aged girlfriends bitch and moan. A trip to Vermont, maybe for the last time in a long while. Camping with the very best. Seeing the inside of a cave??? (if you know me, you know this is insane lmao) Spent weekends in Baltimore going to pride festivities and crawling through flea and farmers markets. Moving my body, working out, watching my clothes fit differently—and feeling more comfortable in my skin than I had in years.

It felt like living without background noise.

For the first time, I was processing things instead of reacting to them. I once wrote here about how deeply I hate the idea of people having the wrong impression of me—how compelled I've always felt to fix things, to correct perceptions. That feeling disappeared that summer. I just...didn't give a fuck. About that, or about so many other things. I woke up, walked on my walking pad, stretched, talked to friends, made plans, started this blog. I lived.

Somewhere along the way, I reached a flow state I'd never known before. I learned things about myself I didn't even realize were there. It was exciting. Refreshing. A quiet maturity washed over me, and for the first time, it felt natural—not forced. I finally felt like I'd arrived at a version of myself I'd been working toward without knowing it.

When that blip of time came to an end, I didn't feel fear about what Saturn still had in store. Instead, I felt sad it had gone by so quickly. I loved who I was becoming. I loved the clarity, the calm, the certainty of what I want out of this life. But I knew Saturn would return in February 2026—one day before Valentine's Day—and slowly fade out by April 2028. I could wait four months to find that version of myself again.

I'm still very much her—the woman I became during those warm months of late spring and summer—and for that, I'm eternally grateful. But I won't lie: I feel a flutter when I think about stepping back into this return. I'm craving the changes ahead of me, the ones waiting before I truly begin my life as a career woman, a wife, a mom. I never imagined I'd be writing those words—especially in this context.

So maybe the real question is was Saturn really here to break me down—or was it finally giving me permission to become who I've been all along?