You Are Not Unlovable

Kathleen House
Jul 21
6 min read

If you've noticed, I don't share these thoughts and posts on the same day every week, not every Monday, not always a Tuesday. I follow lunar and astrological rhythm instead of a structured calendar, and right now we're sitting on the First Quarter Moon while the sky holds something astrologers are calling Barbault's Basket, four outer planets, Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto, all converged at 4 degrees of their signs at once, a configuration several are calling one of the rarest in recorded history, an incredibly auspicious celestial event. When we remain in a frequency of benevolence, for the good of all, harm of none, there's no telling what kind of peace we can bring to this planet.

I have had an experience I haven’t shared with many people up until now. It’s intense, and it unveiled something about myself that I wasn't ready to see for a long time, and I think I'm finally ready to write about it here.

I've been someone who has had whats called out of body experiences or OBE’s since I was sixteen. It started spontaneously and I just got really aware of it young, and mastered it out of necessity. There's one night I have kept coming back to more than any other. I got up out of my body, looked at my body, looked around the room, and I always go check on my kids first whenever this happens, that's just instinct at this point. Then for some reason that particular night I wanted to look at myself in the mirror.

I was dead. Not symbolically, not in some poetic sense I'm using for effect here, I looked lifeless, zero vitality in my face, and it scared me so deeply I actually thought I wouldn't come back into my body, that I'd died for real.

I didn't understand what I was looking at for a long time, honestly years, it took the same pattern repeating itself over and over, this cycle where my reality didn't matter and my feelings didn't matter and my body's truth just didn't matter, before I finally understood what that dead face in the mirror actually was.

I wasn't dying from anything that was happening to me in that moment. I was dying from what I was giving away, on purpose, every single day. I thought if I held on steadier, tried harder, became more understanding, more available, more forgiving, then maybe I could fix what was actually not mine. I didn't have language for any of that back then, I just knew somewhere along the way I'd started mistaking my own disappearance and self-betrayal for devotion. I kept doing it because it felt like the safe thing even while it was killing something in me.

There's a specific kind of wounding that happens when you're trained, maybe not on purpose by the person doing it, to believe your needs are too much and your clarity is a threat and your aliveness creates a problem for someone else, and the body adapts to that over time whether you want it to or not. You make yourself smaller before anyone even asks you to, you get fluent in someone else's emotional weather and lose touch with your own. If that goes on long enough it can genuinely start to feel like devotion. It isn’t. I know that now in a way I didn’t then. Devotion was never supposed to cost this much of you.

The mind is good at building a whole temple around a wound like that, mine sure did, maybe I'm overreacting, maybe I need to be more compassionate, maybe if I explain it better this time they'll finally understand, maybe healing more just means I'll need less, and sometimes the mind will even reach for spiritual language to keep the body trapped right where it is, calling self-abandonment forgiveness, calling collapse surrender, calling silence peace. My Soul and body knew before my mind ever caught up. It always does.

That mirror became a kind of interruption I couldn't argue my way out of. It showed me the cost of leaving myself over and over, it showed me what my body and Soul had been carrying while my mind kept trying to make the story prettier than it actually was, and the truth underneath it all when I finally let it speak was simple, I was tired, I wasn't safe there, I had been making myself disappear on purpose and calling it devotion.

Once I saw the pattern I couldn’t not see it, it was everywhere, this backwards devotion showing up in relationships, in religions, in belief systems, in anything outside of myself I could use to validate a sense of feeling lovable. The deepest reflection came through becoming more aware of myself inside this so-called devotion.

You are not unlovable. Giving your life force energy away into disappearance was a strategy you built so young to get the love that wasn't reaching you, and your mind has protected that strategy ever since by calling it safety.

The more aware you become, the more opportunity you have to disrupt that pattern, to actually see the truth of it instead of living inside it unquestioned, and to find the places within you that are already whole and already lovable exactly as they are, and that's the part that never finishes, the part that stays continuous, because the grooves in the brain, or the patterns carved out of the sheer necessity of feeling safe and worthy of love, aren't something that shows itself on an ordinary day, most days it's running quietly underneath everything and you'd never know it was even there unless you were looking. The looking itself is the practice, staying conscious enough to actually notice what's running instead of turning away from it again, because that conscious looking is what opens into a radical kind of self-knowing, and that self-knowing is what radical self-love actually grows out of, slowly, the kind that doesn't ask you to give your life force energy away into disappearance to earn it.

This is the invitation underneath everything the sky is doing right now too, Barbault's Basket isn't just a rare pattern to admire from a distance, it's four outer planets asking the collective to actually participate, to notice where old wounds have been running the show and choose something more honest instead, because whatever we're holding while Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto move through this rare alignment together becomes part of what gets carried forward.

This configuration isn't spread across all four elements the way you might expect, it's concentrated in exactly two, Fire in Leo and Aries, Air in Gemini and Aquarius, the two elements that were never meant to sit quietly next to each other in the first place. Air is what feeds fire, that's the literal mechanism, without air there is no flame, no ignition, no burning at all, so picture this configuration less as four scattered points of light and more as a single sustained blaze, oxygen and flame locked into the same breath, Jupiter's expansive fire in Leo fanned wide open by Uranus's sudden electric air in Gemini, Neptune's visionary fire in Aries kept burning by Pluto's structural air in Aquarius. Classical astrology calls Fire and Air the masculine, active elements, the ones that move outward instead of holding still, and right now the entire slow moving structure of the collective sky is built from nothing but that outward moving current, combustion on a civilizational scale, and what gets burned away or fanned into something larger depends entirely on what we feed it.

If this week is asking you to look closer at your own life force, at what you've been giving away and calling something it never was, let the sky be your evidence that this is exactly the right time to look.

With you,

Kat

☥ For the good of all, Harm of none