40 Days in the Wilderness: Lent and my Saturn Return

Ashes.

The best way I can describe the first part of my 30th year is this:

Complete and utter distress. We’re talking psychological, emotional, and physical.

I was navigating perhaps ALL the transitions one could possibly be navigating. My partner was moving into my home, and this was the first time I had shared my space with another person post-divorce; it upset my normal “coping mechanisms” that I used to “manage” my PMDD and (at the time, unrecognized) neurodivergent existence.

I was beginning to realize that I was extremely unhappy at my job, and it was affecting me physically and mentally - I knew the seriousness of this and that I couldn’t go on blowing off what my body was trying to tell me. I had tried toughing it out - even to the point of using a beta-blocker to stave off the panic attacks I was having on stage. This helped for a while, but I knew it wasn’t sustainable.

My aforementioned PMDD had taken a turn for the worse, and I was dancing on the brink of suicidal ideation. My world was so dark, and getting darker. I hurt everywhere and cramps took my breath away. I got out of bed, despite feeling like the last thing on earth I wanted to do was to leave it. Sharing all these things with my partner led to a conversation where I realized that in “trying to cope,” I was doing nothing. Isolation was my answer, and that just wasn’t good enough, especially in light of the dreams and visions I had for my future. This conversation was devastating - it was the first cold, hard look I had taken at the state of things…and what I saw was grim.

And then came Lent.

I had, for some strange reason, agreed to sing and play piano at a 7am Ash Wednesday service, when I lived an hour and a half from the church. I am NOT a morning person - what was I thinking? I kept kicking myself for being so stupid. Little did I know that this was part of the larger picture.

I sat at the piano and sipped my coffee before the congregants entered the Chapel; I was feeling numb and foggy from the painful jab of the prior week, but was proud of the very small step I had taken - scheduling my first therapy session. Only after I had scheduled it did I realize that it was going to fall on the first day of Lent. Hmm…interesting timing.

“Lent comes providentially to reawaken us, to shake us from our lethargy.” - Pope Francis

Lent, observed by Christians, is a 40-day period in which one reflects on sins committed and fasts (or “gives up something”), culminating in Easter, the celebration of the resurrection of Christ. There is also the added significance of Christ wandering “40 days in the wilderness,” fasting and praying. As I sat in that 7am service, I began to think about “what I was giving up” - and the answers that came to mind blew me away.

I am giving up the insidious notion that I am alone.

I am giving up that dangerous feeling of not belonging.

Right then and there I made a pact with myself, that I would commit to the personal work and observation during those 40 days. I would keep my eyes open for the signs, still myself to hear the calls of my inner world, and see what came about by Easter.

Boy, was it worth it.

I began a new job that was so in alignment with myself and my needs ON Easter, and it was a joyful new beginning!

I began a new season of life in which I am so much more aware of who I am, and of what I need. I am finally embracing all the stunning aspects of myself, not beating myself up over my perceived shortcomings.

I don’t believe in coincidences, and the timeliness of this season is no exception.

I remembered that I was in my Saturn Return, towards the end of it. Astrologically speaking, this is a period of time in which one is truly called to adulthood. It is a period of taking true accountability for the decisions and choices made in life, and through that, submitting oneself to challenging, but ultimately life-changing, transformation.

The lessons and themes of my life leading up to this point had not gone away. They were still there, and were calling for my attention with increased urgency.

When I realized this, I was able to look at this difficult time in a much better light:

I was being prepared. I was being cultivated. Melted down, molded, shaped into the form that will carry me into the next decades and roles of my life.

What a gift.