This past year, Uranus crossed over both my Sun and Moon ��� they sit together in my 10th house ��� and my life rearranged itself with a force I couldn���t negotiate with, soften, or spiritually bypass.

Uranus doesn���t ask.
It liberates.
Often violently. Always with precision.

Every relationship, role, and obligation that held even a trace of compromise��� cracked.
Some shattered.
A few dissolved like mist without warning.

At first, it felt cruel.
As if life was stripping away the scaffolding I���d leaned on for decades ��� people I trusted, work I had poured myself into, identities I���d worn like skin.

But looking back, I can see the truth:
Uranus didn���t destroy my life ��� it removed what couldn���t come with me.

The Year Everything I Outgrew Fell Away

Some endings were loud and painful.
Others arrived quietly ��� a slow loosening, a subtle ���no more,��� a boundary finally enforced after years of accommodation.

Most of these endings, I didn���t initiate.

The universe did ��� abruptly, decisively ��� before I could talk myself into staying small.

Clients I had carried too long drifted off or were let go.
Old relational patterns cracked open under the strain of truth.
Even my business shape-shifted, shedding what was fueled by obligation instead of inspiration.

One by one, anything that siphoned energy instead of generating it��� was stripped away.

What Remained

And here���s the astonishing part ��� what stayed is what was real.

The people who truly see me.
The work that feels alive in my hands.
The quiet friendships that never demanded I shrink or hold the world together for them.
The places and routines that nourish me instead of drain me.

When the storm finished, my ecosystem was smaller ��� but it was clean.
Every presence in my life now supports me, or it���s not here.

The Fierce Gift of Lightning

Uranus isn���t gentle.
But it is honest.

It freed me from caretaking roles I never consciously agreed to.
It dissolved patterns I thought I needed for belonging.
It revealed the quiet ways I had been accommodating others at the expense of my own life force.

This year, I stopped being the one who bends.
I stopped organizing my life around other people���s urgency.
I stopped valuing comfort over truth.

I discovered something shocking:

When I stop shrinking, what doesn���t truly support me falls away ��� and what remains was meant for me all along.

What I Know Now

I am clearer, lighter, stronger.
My energy belongs to my work, my creative fire, my calling ��� not crisis-care and emotional management.

And I finally understand why the upheaval had to happen the way it did:
Some endings don���t require confrontation.
They require evolution.

When you grow, you simply no longer fit the places built for your smaller self.

Uranus didn���t break my life.
It broke me out.