Lesson 7 of my second Saturn return reflects on resilience, discipline, and learning to meet life head-on. This was the year I stopped choosing comfort and started choosing strength. It was the year of slay, don’t play.

My Top 10 Lessons of 2025

In the final days of 2025, I’m sharing ten lessons this year taught me — not as a highlight reel, but as a reflection on what actually shifted beneath the surface. 2025 has been a significant astrological year for me, marked by a second Saturn return and a fifth Jupiter return, and it’s been a year of recalibration: learning where my energy truly belongs, what deserves commitment, and what needed to be released. Each of these lessons played a role in shaping how the year unfolded, often in ways I only understood in hindsight.

Much of what I share — both here and in my work — comes from the belief that astrology is most powerful when it helps us make conscious, practical choices. If you’re interested in learning how to work with cycles like Saturn and Jupiter in your own life, or in developing astrology as a tool for growth, education, and ethical practice, you’ll find links throughout this series to my classes and consultations. These lessons aren’t abstract; they’re lived, tested, and offered in the spirit of helping others navigate their own turning points with greater clarity.

Lesson 7: Slay, Don’t Play

2025 wasn’t a year that could be handled on autopilot. It asked for presence, strength, and a willingness to face things without cushioning the impact. Some of the lessons this year arrived through disappointment — not in dramatic explosions, but in quieter reckonings that required endurance rather than reaction.

There were losses that needed to be grieved. Leaving a teaching role was the right decision, but the emotional aftermath took time to process. I experienced genuine post-traumatic stress and had to allow myself the space to recover, rather than pushing through out of habit or guilt. A relationship that didn’t work out occupied far more headspace than I had ever intended it to. And when my daughter moved out — a natural, healthy step into her independence — it still marked the end of a chapter I felt deeply. None of these moments were crises, but together they formed a year of cumulative emotional weight.

What made this year different was how I chose to meet that weight. I stopped numbing discomfort and started standing up to it. One of the most practical shifts I made was changing habits that had quietly become comfortable without being supportive. Alcohol, for me, had slipped into that category — not a problem in the dramatic sense, but a familiar way of smoothing the edges of celebration or disappointment. Letting it go created clarity. It freed up time, energy, and emotional bandwidth, and it changed how I experienced my days.

Empty Glass

Giving up alcohol was far easier than I thought it would be–no doubt aided by not being physically addicted to it. Drinking was a bad habit that had crept in and taking that habit out of my life was a welcome challenge. No longer could I go down to the pub and joke around about some geezer who ripped my heart out and fed it to the dogs. I had to take it seriously and remind myself that no matter what was happening, I was still on terra firma with a life I quite liked and maybe I was the one who didn’t want to share it.

Giving up alcohol  wasn’t about deprivation. It was about strength. Writing “Zeus on the Loose”, clearing emotional space, hosting visitors, resetting my flat, and showing up fully for my work all happened without that old buffer in place. I felt steadier, clearer, and more present — even when things were hard. The gym became an important ally during this time. I don’t go there to play. I go there to slay. Physical effort gave my emotions somewhere to land, and it reminded me daily that strength is built, not wished for.

This year was also emotionally intense in ways I hadn’t experienced before. With Jupiter moving through my Cancerian stellium, feelings surfaced quickly and powerfully. I’ve been lecturing about Astrology in Education for over a decade yet sobriety allowed me the clarity to truly examine that accomplishment honestly. When I gave my final lecture for the Shifts Happen event back in May 2025, the enormity of this fact hit me like a proverbial ton of bricks. I was still a few weeks shy of the beginning of my Saturn return but by goddess, I felt it was time I had some recognition for all my time and research. I could see I had my audience’s attention and so I asked them for that recognition. Thirty years in a classroom deserved a standing ovation. And I got one.

And then. . .I couldn’t read my closing remarks. Hell, I couldn’t even see through the tears. I was going to lose it right there in front of everyone. I had to ask for a help–a lesson in itself. This was my closing (read by someone else so I could observe the moment objectively):

Not everyone could meet me where I was this year. Some friendships quietly fell away, particularly as my work became more visible. Big moments have a way of revealing who can celebrate with you and who feels unsettled by your growth. I didn’t chase explanations. I paid attention. And I had to accept that some people couldn’t take my light. It was new to me too!

Lesson 7 taught me that comfort can be deceptive. What feels familiar isn’t always what’s kind to you. Learning to slay, not play, meant choosing clarity over ease, strength over avoidance, and presence over distraction. It wasn’t glamorous work — but it changed everything that followed.

And what followed was a better me who was 100% there for all of it.

PS I still can’t talk about that moment on stage without crying.