The Flood Arrived and I Didn't Run

September 7 — Full Moon in Pisces + Lunar Eclipse

There's something people keep saying about this eclipse window, something about it being a time to "clear karmic debris" and let go of old patterns. They describe it like a flash flood, a spiritual scouring, a great undoing of what no longer serves.

And for once, I don't feel the need to translate that into something more practical or grounded. Because that's exactly what's happening. In my work, in my body, In my sense of who I'm supposed to be versus who I actually am, and in everything I thought was stable enough to build on. I genuinely told myself that I had found a safe place to land at my new position, the one I had been working at for the last year as a Social Work intern and Therapist. Boy was I wrong.

Old structures are collapsing, and they're collapsing fast. They are trying to take me down with them and I feel the pull. The systems I tried to trust even though I knew they were flawed, the ones that said they were rooted in trauma-informed care but couldn't handle truth when it showed up, and when I asked for it. The ones that promised mentorship but delivered surveillance, control, and authoritative dominance. The ones that talked about growth and congruence but punished integrity.

Gone. Cracking. Exposed for what they always were. And angry at me for holding up a mirror.

The Disorientation of Clarity

Honestly, it's disorienting as hell. But it's also clarifying in ways I didn't expect. Because I've spent the last few weeks trying to play both sides of an impossible equation. Trying to be real and billable, honest and digestible. Present and compliant. Trying to fit into systems that keep asking me to shape-shift just enough to survive, but not so much that I become completely unrecognizable to myself. But eclipses don't allow for that kind of shape-shifting. They strip illusions. They bring the grief to the surface whether you're ready for it or not. They force the truth out of your mouth before you've had time to rehearse it into something more palatable.

And here's my truth, the one that's been sitting in my chest for months, I can't do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending, I was never into people-pleasing, I can’t handle the emotional compression that workplaces demand when they want you to be "professional," or the retaliation, harassment, and bullying that comes from places that don’t have HR departments and the owner of the establishment controls everything.

I've already made the changes they asked for. I've shortened my notes, coded my language differently, compartmentalized my presence in ways that felt sustainable. But now I'm being asked not to show up as myself in sessions with clients? Now I'm being told that my directness, my ability to see patterns, my refusal to pretend obvious problems don't exist, those are skills that should be diminished and not trusted rather than strengths? The very things I was once praised on by the same person, now I am being told are unreliable?

That's not an option, or a compromise I can make.

What Floods Actually Wash Away

This full moon isn't about feeling balanced or finding some graceful way to navigate impossible circumstances. It's about letting the flood come. Letting it take what needs to go. Letting the grief hit without trying to manage it, letting the clarity land without trying to soften it, and letting the boundaries lock in without apologizing for them.

I'm not resisting it this time. I'm not trying to float above the chaos or find spiritual meaning in the middle of systemic collapse. I'm doing what Pisces energy actually asks us to do, which is feel everything fully. And what eclipses demand, which is stop lying to yourself about what's actually happening. So I have been in a funk, in a deep depression, I cry between sessions, during my time off, while I am looking for another job, while my anxiety takes a hold of me.

Because here's what I'm seeing clearly now, the systems I've been trying to work within aren't broken by accident. They're designed to function exactly as they do. They're supposed to wear down people who ask too many questions, ask for accommodations, and are different. They're supposed to punish people who refuse to accept harm as normal, and who speak up against it. They're supposed to make you doubt your own perceptions when those perceptions threaten the status quo. The only thing I am confused about is that, I have been here for a year, and none of this was an issue until I started excelling and experiencing clients who say they’re being heard and understood by their clinician for the first time. Something about that threatens someone who never hears that.

And I've been participating in my own erosion by trying to make it work anyway.

What Remains When Everything Else Falls Away

So if it feels chaotic right now, if it feels like everything is unraveling in your work life or your relationships or your sense of what you're supposed to be doing with your life, maybe it is. But maybe that's not a problem to be solved. Maybe it's the clean-out you couldn't start on your own because you were too invested in making broken things work. Maybe it's what had to happen for you to finally get honest about what you actually need, not what you think you should be able to tolerate.

For me, that means no more trying to fit into spaces that don’t allow people like me to function. No more softening my tone to protect someone else's comfort when they're causing actual harm, although, I frequently soften my tone because Black women are tone policed, gaslit, and manipulated into being the aggressor when they are experiencing aggravated assaults of all kinds. I am not sacrificing my clarity for the sake of compliance with systems that don't serve the people they claim to help, and refuse to give their clinicians and clients trauma informed, culturally aware and sensitive care.

The flood has arrived. I didn't run from it this time. I didn't try to build higher walls or find higher ground. I stayed. I let it wash through everything I thought I needed to protect. I am drowning. And I am waiting to see what is left standing when the water receded. This is a situation in progress.

What I expect to see is Me. Still here. Still clear about what matters. Still unwilling to abandon myself for the comfort of people who've already abandoned their own integrity.

That's what I'm taking from this eclipse season. Not some gentle release or graceful letting go, but the fierce clarity that comes from finally stop trying to make the unmakeable work. The relief that comes from admitting that some floods are necessary, some structures need to fall, and some truths are worth the temporary chaos they create when they finally get spoken out loud.

The moon is full. The old ways are ending. And I'm still here, exactly as I am, ready for whatever comes next. I am afraid, but I will not be bullied into compliance by hostile clinicians who clearly forgot why they began this work to begin with. The woman in question, told me weeks ago that she just chose Social work because it was a job. She said “You are a true Social worker, injustice bothers you.” She is right.