I remember back in early 2023, hearing all this talk about Saturn moving into Pisces. Honestly, I just kinda shrugged it off at first. My world was already a bit of a swamp, you know? Just feeling all over the place, like my brain was swimming in treacle most days. Boundaries? What boundaries? I was just letting everything slide, trying to be chill, but really, I was just letting myself get walked all over. My energy was shot, my focus was nonexistent, and I was perpetually exhausted. I was always helping someone else, always saying yes, but my own stuff? Nah, that could wait. It was this constant haze.
Then, slowly but surely, this weird feeling started to creep in. It wasn’t like a sudden slap, more like a constant, nagging pressure behind my eyes, a low hum of “something’s gotta give.” I started noticing how truly draining my daily routine was. How much I wasn’t doing for myself. How much I was letting things just drift along, pretending it was fine, when inside I was screaming. It hit me that I was living in this fog of vague intentions and zero follow-through.
I didn’t immediately connect it to Saturn or Pisces, not consciously anyway. But the shifts started happening. I started this really messy, unorganized journal. Not like a fancy diary, just a cheap notebook where I’d scrawl down whatever was bugging me, whatever I was dreaming about, what made me angry, what felt wrong. It was a jumbled mess of half-formed thoughts, complaints, and sudden flashes of clarity.
One of the first things I started to tackle, without even realizing why, was my boundaries. Or lack thereof. I’d consistently felt stretched thin because I couldn’t say no. People would ask for favors, demand my time, and I’d just meekly agree. I started practicing. It was rough. The first few times I tried to put my foot down, I felt like a horrible person. My stomach would churn, my hands would shake. But I forced myself. I started saying, “No, I can’t do that right now,” or “I need to check my schedule first,” even when I knew my schedule was basically empty. It felt like I was learning a new language.
Then, the big reality checks started rolling in. Things I thought were stable, things I was deluding myself about, they all started to wobble. My job, which I’d told myself was “fine” for years, suddenly felt like a cage. I’d been dreaming about doing something totally different, but just pushing it away as a “pipe dream.” Well, those dreams started to feel less like pipes and more like a loud alarm going off in my head. I started to pick apart what was real versus what I desperately wanted to be real. It was uncomfortable, to say the least. It felt like a slow, painful peeling back of layers.
- I started looking at my finances more seriously, instead of just hoping for the best.
- I began to question relationships that felt more like obligations than connections.
- I finally admitted to myself that some habits I had, ones I used to justify as “relaxing,” were actually just making the fog thicker.
This whole period, from when I started feeling that weird pressure, through the end of 2023 and all through 2024, felt like a slow, deliberate grind. It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t easy. There were days I wanted to throw in the towel, go back to my old hazy ways. But then something would happen, some small victory or a stark realization, and it would push me forward again. I found myself drawn to simpler routines, needing more quiet time, really listening to my gut when it screamed “nope” or “yes.”
Entering 2025, I could finally see the framework being built. It wasn’t glamorous. It was a lot of small, consistent efforts. I moved apartments, finally getting a space that felt like mine, not just somewhere I was crashing. I started taking an online course for something I was actually passionate about, putting in the work even when I was tired. I had some really tough conversations with family and friends, leading to clearer, stronger boundaries – and some relationships falling away, which, surprisingly, felt like a relief. The emotional clarity that started to emerge from the previous two years of slogging through the murky stuff was immense. It was like I was finally putting solid ground under my feet after years of wading through water.
And now, here we are, pushing into 2026. The shift isn’t over, I can feel it. But it’s different. That pervasive fog I lived in? It’s mostly lifted. There are still blurry edges, sure, life’s never perfectly clear. But I built structures. I carved out space for myself. I got real about my dreams and started taking actual, practical steps towards them. It was a period of the universe giving me some serious tough love, forcing me to build foundations where there were only shifting sands. It was hard, really hard, but man, I needed it. And those messy journal entries? They’re still there, a testament to every uncomfortable, necessary step I took.
