Man, Pisces Decan 2. You hear a lot about it, right? All that dreamy, spaced-out, super-sensitive stuff. And yeah, some of it clicks, but it’s way more than just floating through life. I mean, I’ve seen it, lived it, bumped my head against it more times than I can count, especially when it came to trying to figure out relationships and what the heck I was supposed to be doing with my life work-wise. It ain’t just stars telling you what to do; it’s about how you handle what those stars throw your way.
I remember this one stretch, not too long ago, felt like my whole world was a kaleidoscope of emotions and ideas, but none of it was solid. Like, I’d fall hard for someone, instantly seeing the absolute best in them, painting this whole perfect picture in my head. I wasn’t just liking them, I was absorbing them. Their moods became my moods, their problems became my crusade. It was exhausting. And the career side? Forget about it. I’d jump into something, full of grand visions, wanting to make a huge difference, save the world even. But then the nitty-gritty, the politics, the daily grind, it would just drain me dry. I’d feel this immense longing for something more, something “purer,” I guess. It was like I was constantly searching for a spiritual quest in a spreadsheet world.
My Love Life: A Beautiful Mess
Back then, I just leaped into relationships headfirst. No real thought, just a massive wave of feeling. My heart would just open up, no filters, no walls. And yeah, that felt amazing at first, like the most profound connection ever. I truly believed in soulmates, in twin flames, in finding “the one” who would just get it, no words needed. I’d give everything, seriously, like my whole self. If they were down, I was down. If they were excited, I was flying high. I spent so much time trying to fix their problems, trying to make them happy, that I kinda forgot about myself completely.
- I’d brush off red flags, telling myself it was just a misunderstanding, or that my love could change them.
- I’d merge my identity with theirs. Our friends became “our” friends, our hobbies became “our” hobbies. I forgot who I was without them.
- I’d over-idealize the situation, creating this perfect fantasy in my head that no real person could ever live up to. The reality always felt like a letdown.
- I’d avoid any kind of conflict, because the thought of upsetting the peace, of hurting their feelings (which would then hurt mine, profoundly), was just too much. I’d just drift away or suppress my own needs until I exploded.
One time, I literally moved across the country for someone after just a few months. My gut was screaming, but my heart, or whatever cosmic force I felt was pushing me, just overrode all logic. That didn’t end well, obviously. I landed there, all hyped up on this dream, and then reality smacked me hard. I felt abandoned, confused, and utterly lost. It was like the rug got pulled out from under my soul. That was my rock bottom moment for relationships. I laid there, metaphorically speaking, piecing together all the shattered dreams.
My Career Path: The Wanderer’s Trail
And career? Hoo boy. It was a mirror image of my love life. I started out wanting to be an artist, then a counselor, then an activist, then something spiritual. You name it, I probably considered it. Each time, I’d dive in, full of passion, convinced this was it. I wanted my work to have meaning, to contribute to something bigger than myself. The idea of just slaving away for a paycheck felt utterly soul-crushing.
- I’d take on jobs that over-extended me because someone else’s sob story convinced me I was the only one who could help.
- I’d get tangled up in workplace drama, not because I was looking for it, but because I’d absorb everyone’s stress and feelings. It was like I was a sponge for the office mood.
- I’d struggle with boundaries, working late, saying “yes” to everything, because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone or believed I was serving a higher purpose.
- I’d lose motivation quickly if the work didn’t align with my deep sense of mission, or if it felt too mundane, too “material.”
I remember this one gig where I literally worked myself sick. The cause was noble, or so I thought, but the people running it were chaotic and demanding. I kept telling myself, “It’s for the greater good!” until my body just gave out. I ended up in bed for a week, utterly depleted, and that’s when it hit me. What good was I doing if I was falling apart? I wasn’t just helping others; I was dissolving myself in the process. My idealism was burning me out instead of fueling me.
Finding My Footing
After that, something just snapped in me. I realized that all that intense feeling, that empathy, that desire to connect and to help, it wasn’t a flaw. It was a superpower, but I was using it all wrong. I was letting it run wild, letting it control me, instead of me controlling it. So, I started doing things differently.
For love, I started by literally drawing lines. Not on paper, but in my head. I practiced saying “no.” Not just to dates, but to requests that felt like they were chipping away at my own energy. I learned to listen to my gut feelings more than my fantasy ideas. If something felt off, I didn’t ignore it. I actually talked about my needs, even when it felt awkward and vulnerable. I started carving out my own space, my own hobbies, my own friends, even when I was in a relationship. I began to understand that deep connection doesn’t mean dissolving; it means two whole people choosing to walk together, side by side, not intertwined until they’re indistinguishable. It was scary at first, like I was being selfish, but it actually made my connections stronger, healthier. It was like I finally understood that loving myself wasn’t selfish, it was necessary for truly loving someone else.
For career, I had to get real. I still wanted purpose, but I also needed stability and, frankly, not to burn out. I started looking for roles where my empathy and intuition were assets, but where there were also clear boundaries and structures. I learned to spot the red flags in job descriptions and interviews – vague responsibilities, promises that sounded too good to be true. I started to prioritize my own well-being, setting strict work hours, taking breaks, and not carrying everyone else’s burdens home with me. I sought out mentors who seemed grounded and could guide me in practical ways. I learned to channel my idealism into tangible actions, breaking down big, world-saving ideas into small, manageable steps. It wasn’t about giving up the dream; it was about building a solid foundation to make that dream a reality, without crumbling under the pressure.
It’s still a journey, you know? But now, when those waves of intense feeling hit, or when I see a cause I want to throw myself into, I don’t just dive blind. I pause. I breathe. I check in with myself. I’ve learned that truly making a difference, in love or in work, starts with being whole and grounded yourself. It’s not about escaping reality; it’s about making your dreams part of reality, carefully and intentionally, one step at a time.
