What Was It All For

Unraveling, remembering, and finding God in the rubble

When the nodes shifted into Libra and Aries in July 2023, they upended the axis of self and relationship. For me, that cycle shook the ground under what I wanted to believe was stable — or at least stable enough. Deep down, I felt the gnawing in my gut that things weren’t right, but I kept doing and fixing instead of being and listening.

By the time October 2024 arrived, the undoing was already in motion. Relationships had unraveled — two in particular, one of four years and another of one. A six-month condo ordeal mirrored the collapse I had endured once before. Betrayals surfaced in new shapes. Jobs left me hollow. I had already been stripped down.

This particular nodal shift — with all its eclipses — was never meant to leave me stranded in crisis and chaos. Especially the one that struck just hours before my last solar return — not a punishment, but a revelation — showing me what it all meant and what it was all for: the breakthrough that comes after the breakdown.

Synchronistically, last year’s solar return chart revealed both my Sun and my Moon in the 12th house for the year ahead. And the 12th house does not ask us to build outward. It asks us to undo — to uncover what has been hidden, to let the walls fall, and to find God in the rubble.

The scams, the betrayals, the misaligned men, the soul-sucking jobs — they weren’t punishments. They were mirrors. They brought me face-to-face with my oldest wound.

I remembered the little girl tugging at her mother’s face to see if she was real. I remembered mornings when my father had to come home to change my diaper because my mother was too depressed to get out of bed. I remembered her hollow eyes, her silence, her fear of mothering that came from doubt and despair. And I remembered how my own people-pleasing began there, how my choice not to have children was seeded — not from fear like hers, but from exhaustion. From already carrying the weight of adults as a child, and from refusing to repeat the cycle of care without nourishment.

Different reasons, same thread.

The details may have looked like men, condos, jobs, betrayals — but the thread was always the same. A wound looping back until I was ready to rewind, remember, and rewrite.

And last October — the night of the Full Moon in Aries — that thread pulled tighter than ever. It was the night I learned my ex-husband had taken his own life. That moment cracked something open in me that I could never close again. It was as if the Moon illuminated not only his departure, but every place within me still bound by control, fear, and survival. Everything that came after October 17 became a mirror for where I was still trying to hold life together from fight-or-flight instead of faith — from doing and proving instead of simply being who God made me to be.

That was the pivot. The point where I began moving out of the conditioned self — the version shaped by duty, roles, and other people’s needs — and into individuation. Into knowing who I am, not what I do.

That is what this 12th-house year gave me: remembering. Not the kind you hold in your mind, but the kind you feel in your bones. I remembered why I chose these parents, why I incarnated here and now, why betrayal and collapse became my teachers. They weren’t here to destroy me. They were here to return me to God. To make faith my only constant, my only conversation, the only place I could rest.

And that is the gift I carry into this solar return: not the scars of what was lost, but the knowing of what was gained. Thriving through trauma is not about erasing what happened. It is about feeling it, unraveling it, and lifting it into God’s light until the mask falls away and the soul remembers.

May this reflection be a mirror for you, too.

If life has pulled you into chaos, may you remember it is not here to punish, but to reveal.

The details are never the whole story. Look deeper. Feel what rises. Ask what it is all for.

And when the walls fall, may you find yourself, as I did, dissolved into God’s embrace — where all that remains is truth, light, and love.

I have lived through change before — I even carry the phoenix inked on my arm as a reminder that fire does not end me; it remakes me. But this time has been different. This has been one of the greatest thresholds of my life. I now know what it feels like to stand on the trembling edge of the precipice, to surrender and let myself fall through fog, not knowing if I would land safely or rise again to another day. That is true faith — not certainty, but trust in the invisible arms that catch you when you leap.

I won’t pretend I live in that faith every moment. Faith and fear still dance in and out like tides — but now I recognize the rhythm more quickly. I can feel when fear starts to lead, and I pause. I reflect in real time instead of waiting for the clock to say it’s time. The dance still happens, but it’s no longer chaos; it’s communion. Because even when I waver, I know God moves with me in both the ebb and the flow.

So here I stand, blessing this new solar return with open hands, open heart, and the unshakable knowing that God is with me.

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With deep respect for your journey,

Karen Di Gloria ✨

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