The part of you that went under, not away
“I’m 43 and I don’t know who I am anymore. Where did I go?” You asked it the way someone looks for her keys, half annoyed, half scared. As if one day you were there, and then, at some point you can’t find on any calendar, you weren’t.
You were born with both the Sun and the Moon in Scorpio. Scorpio doesn’t do anything halfway, and it doesn’t do anything on the surface. What you feel, you feel all the way down, and you keep most of it there. People see the capable one, the one who handles it. What’s underneath stays private, sometimes even from you.
So the woman you’re missing probably didn’t vanish. She went under. Every year there was a reason to keep going and not look: the work, the people who counted on you, the bills, the days that needed you steady. You got very good at being steady. Somewhere in there, the deep feeling part of you stopped being asked to the table.
Notice what comes up when you’re finally alone with nothing to do. A restlessness, maybe. A pull to pick up the phone, start a chore, open another tab. Your mind says: “I used to know what I wanted. What happened to me?” Then it goes looking for the answer in the past, in old photos, in who you were at twenty-five.
Could it be that she isn’t back there? That the one asking “Where did I go?” is her, right now, finally loud enough to hear? Feelings that run as deep as yours don’t knock gently. When it has waited long enough, it comes up as exactly this kind of question.
If you want, close your eyes for a moment, let your hands rest palms down, and let your body stay open. Feel your stomach from the inside, with attention, the place where things get held. Maybe it’s tight, maybe it’s hollow, maybe there’s something there that hasn’t had a word in years. You don’t need to find one now. If you want to stop, you stop.
You didn’t go anywhere. You went deep, the way you always have, and some part of you is looking back up.