The Weight and the Work

The Capricorn Full Moon: July 10, 2025

What have you achieved lately?

No. J/k.

Don’t answer that.

Not with your Instagram metrics, how many likes or follows or shares you have. Not with your inbox or how many meetings you are. Not with how many books you’ve read this year, even.

Don’t tell me how busy you are. Busy is a distraction.

I am bored of busy.

Answer me with a deep breath.

[sigh]

Because I am tired of achieving.

Aren’t you?

We moved across the country and I still can’t find my fucking tweezers. Or Orion’s beloved first curl, snipped neatly and kept in a tiny plastic bag.

Or the part of me that used to believe starting over was (only) deeply romantic.

I know it's the Full Moon because everything feels louder. I can hear the blood rush in my ears as I try to sleep, and I am old enough to know it’s not the sea. It’s a list of things left undone. It’s the silence in the hallway where my son’s footsteps should be.

I miss him like a phantom limb. My womb aches for him.

But he is coming home.

That is more than I can say for the lost children in Texas, of every school shooting, of every incident where the United States government had oversight to save a child and, instead, saved a dime.

Capricorn Comes for the Overachievers

Capricorn rules structure, ambition, legacy. And in a world that’s falling apart, who wouldn’t want to spreadsheet the apocalypse?

IF I CAN TRACK IT, I CAN FIX IT.

But that’s trauma talking. That’s my eldest daughter trying to save the world. And yes—it deserves saving.

But sometimes, we have to start by saving ourselves.

Capricorn energy can turn cold, hard, demanding. It’s the part of us that wants a plan to complete, a mountain to conquer, a trophy to prove: I MADE IT.

And when the Moon is full in Capricorn, opposite mama Cancer, that hunger for progress can feel… mean.

So, when I’m here, in a new town, a new house, surrounded by boxes and uncertainty, (or wherever you are that feels that way, literally or metaphorically), that old voice gets loud:

• “You’re behind.”

• “You’re not doing enough.”

• “You should be further along.”

• “Why aren’t you doing more?”

• “I’m so disappointed.”

• “Guess you have to do this the hard way.”

• “You really do make things harder for everyone.”

• “Rest? Moms/women/you don’t get to rest. You asked for this. All of it. Now go be grateful.”

Ever hear that one?

The Eldest Daughter Blueprint

This is the voice that, at 3am, keeps me awake instead of going back to sleep, cleaning and unpacking. Because, no, I don’t get to rest. Things should be further along.

If you, like me, were raised to equate love with usefulness—welcome.

I was expected to know. To manage. To fix.

And to be grateful for my place in that hierarchy.

No one said, “You’re safe.”

They said, “You’ve got this.”

And so I did. I do. But also—I want to be held.

I want someone to say, “Rest. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Capricorn is the sign of the builder. But, sometimes, I am tired of building. Tired of holding so many things, including my own buckets and tools, my own damn scaffolding.

But here’s the truth:

I can choose how I build. With what materials. At what pace.

I can decide which blueprint I’m using now.

Especially if you were raised to feel like I do, where love is equated with usefulness. To earn safety by being highly competent. To carry chaos like a fancy waitress and never drop a thing.

What My Therapist Said (And the Moon Agrees)

It’s funny to me when my therapy (proud therapy-goer, going on and off for over 33 years) overlaps with my more… esoteric pursuits.

This week, my therapist said to me (in summary):

You don’t have to be a part of a system that doesn’t honor or respect who you are and who you have become.

Why do you keep putting yourself in these relationships, in these patterns? Because you yearn for belonging, for love.

You can’t change anyone, but you can change how you react to the situations other people create.

You deserve to be loved and celebrated for who you are. Not tolerated.

You don’t have to stay in systems that don’t honor you.

And this full moon asks me/us something similar:

• What are we building—and why?

• Whose blueprint are we using?

• Was it our decision to measure our worth by what we produce, by how productive we are?

• Was it our choice to miss milestones?

• To push down vital parts of our beings in order to make others happy? Not even happy… quiet? Complacent?

Reflections

So this Full Moon, ask yourself—honestly:

• What stories of success and responsibility am I finally ready to release?

• Where am I still trying to earn love through labor?

• What kind of leadership do I want to embody now—not for appearances, but for alignment?

You are not here to carry it all.

You are not here to make everyone else comfortable while you burn out quietly in the background.

There is no cosmic performance review.

No divine scorecard tallying your wins and losses.

No Taskmaster in the sky counting the “you-dids,” “you-did-nots,” and “you-should’ves.”

Structure is sacred only when it supports.

You cannot offer life when it has been squeezed from you.

There is nothing noble about abandoning yourself to save someone else’s dream.

You’re the whole world, kid.

And you will never be “done.”

Even after you’re gone, someone will still be living inside the legacy you left behind.

I hope it’s one you feel honored to pass down.

Let this Full Moon be a threshold, not a test.

Let it reflect where you’ve grown—even if that growth has been silent.

Let it remind you that survival is not a failure. That slowness is not shameful. That rest is not weakness.

You don’t have to fix what broke you.

You don’t have to carry the world just because you know how.

You are not a to-do list.

You are a whole life.

Still becoming.

And the Moon?

She says: You’ve got this.

And you are safe.

A Writing Ritual for the Capricorn Full Moon

This Full Moon, take an hour. Light a candle. Have some tea or water. Sit with yourself. Be honest, even if your voice or pen/keyboard shake.

Ritual Frame

Prepare: Clear a small space. No perfection, just permission.

Center: Place a hand on your chest or womb. Name what hurts. Name what helps.

Write: Use the prompts—or free-write. No edits. No pressure.

Release: Burn or tear up one limiting belief. Breathe it out.

Close: Thank yourself for surviving. For still becoming.

Free Writing Prompt

What am I carrying that doesn’t belong to me anymore?

Mantra for the Capricorn Full Moon

Structure is sacred only when it supports.

I am not a to-do list.

I am a whole life. Still becoming.