"Addicted to Anguish" by guest blogger Donna Cunningham

Addicted to Anguish—

a Sketch of one Neptunian Type
©2009 by Donna Cunningham, MSW

Every planet in the birth chart and every trait associated with that planet exists along a scale of one to ten, with one being miniscule to ten being way over the top. People with Neptune, Pisces, or the 12th house strong in their charts are often compassionate, with great empathy and a willingness to help those who are suffering. When you shoot past seven on the scale for compassion, it begins to morph into something else—occasionally sainthood, but more often into being a sucker or rescuer.

If you’re familiar with addiction/codependency literature, rescuers (a.k.a. enablers) get enmeshed with people they’re trying to save in ways that are toxic for both. Over time, codependency becomes a full-blown addiction of its own. It eats up more and more of the rescuer’s life force and attention, leaving no room for growth or fulfillment. Worse, the addicted or otherwise dysfunctional person doesn’t get any better, because the rescuer protects them from consequences of the addiction. Enough—read the literature or go to the groups if you think this might apply to you.

What I want to talk about here are the high sixes and sevens on the compassion scale. It’s a sliding scale with adjustable costs depending on your available resources. It’s a case of pay as you go, and then keep on paying, because enough is never enough, not for the rescuer and not for the rescued.

I have a friend who’s at least a seven on the compassion scale, though she can slide to an eight at a moment’s notice. She’s got a great heart and is forever befriending those who are ill or down and out. The scruffiest, most bedraggled animals and humans we encounter on the street engage her sympathy immediately. Though a city-dweller in her mid-60s, she remains naïve, seldom recognizing signals that the individual is playing her.

She’s a loving person, and I admire her for her great empathy with the suffering souls of the world. A recovering New Yorker, I feel hard-hearted next to her. I recognize that she’s a far, far better person than I am. But, really, it’s sometimes a bit much. We went out for breakfast this weekend, and I caught a glimpse of a nine on the scale. I grasped for the first time the not so saintly underpinnings of her need to be needed. I saw why certain Neptunians live to suffer, to be martyred. I got that she is addicted to anguish.

So that you understand the foundation of these observations, I should mention that I earned a Master’s Degree in Social Work in 1967 and have been observing human behavior intently through more than 40 years of astrology and psychotherapy consultations. I’m not just some cynic.

Still, I don’t know how to describe her demeanor in a way that doesn’t make me look like a hard case. She….okay, wallowed sounds bad, I know. But she appeared to thrive on the welling up of empathy…to get enmeshed in the angst. That morning I could see that it’s a bit of living vicariously through other people’s sorrows. Most of us, when we live vicariously, love to partake of others’ joys or successes. As a people, we’re fascinated with the lives of the rich and famous, drinking in every detail.

As I tried to console her, I could sense a strange sort of excitement about being in that state, an almost sensual immersion in anguish. There was a glow about her that doesn’t usually exist, a tinge of ecstasy.

Experts in psychotherapy write that people who engage in self-inflicted pain—like compulsively cutting themselves with razor blades—tend to do so when they feel deadened, numb, and need intense stimulation to feel alive. On the emotional level, martyrdom—another Neptunian quality—can serve much the same purpose.

I spent time later that day trying to sort out what was going on—reflecting on my friend’s history and what’s been going on in her life the past several years. I came to the conclusion that feeling for others with the intensity she does may start out as compassion, and Lord knows she does a lot of good in our world. But part of the payoff is that when she merges with their pain, she no longer feels dead inside.

I’d guess we all feel deadened at times, and we all have our ways of coping. Neptune rules addictions, and addictions are one way, whether they be to substances, exercise, retail therapy, the various ISMs, dysfunctional relationships, or some combination of the above. My friend’s way of coping with numbness is probably better than most, and in the long run, makes the world a kinder place. It is not to be confused with saintliness, though Neptunians are often confused on that score. ~

Donna Cunningham is an internationally-respected author of books, articles, and columns about astrology, flower essences and other metaphysical topics. Her insights reflect her dual background in astrology and psychotherapy. She has a Master’s degree in Social Work from Columbia University and over 40 years of experience in working with people. Her ebooks can be found at Moon Maven Publications (http://www.moonmavenpublications.com) Visit her blog at http://skywriter.wordpress.com.

Venus, Neptune, and Your North Node "Joy"

I received this in an email today: “As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You’ll have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken.

You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.

So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. Don't be afraid that your life will end, be more concerned that it will never begin.”

This reminds me that we have a somewhat paradoxical self-protective mechanism in our psyche that seems to want to “let in” only so much joy or happiness. It’s as if we allow ourselves only so much awareness of the brighter side of life and the unknown possibilities that are inherent in each moment. Perhaps this filtering mechanism is there to protect us from feeling too sensitive or hoping too much, but in the present moment, no matter what the situation, we hold a capacity for more joy and love—and we can choose to open to it or not. Sometimes all it may take is the choice to not block or filter out the goodness that wants to come in.

We all tend to frame and express the current story of our life in a particular way at every moment. We continually re-tell ourselves “our story”—that life story you remind yourself of when you awake first thing in the morning. But by holding too tightly to the melodrama and “shoulds” of that story, you block fresh experiences that don’t fit in with that story line. However, we have choices even when times are hard—you can choose again—you can choose to awake today to the possibilities of unexpected joy and new experiences that aren’t conditioned by the past. You can choose to take in more joy. You can dare to color outside the lines of your life.


Astrologically, one could say that by clinging to the illusory safety of what we know and how we tell our story line, we repeat the default patterns of the South Node, and fuel our lives by our wounds and psychological complexes. We live through the Saturn/Pluto transits and the wounded complexities of our t-squares, but overlook the subtle beauty, joy and meaning in the other parts of our lives and charts. It would be a refreshing practice to reach for the highest expression of all our planetary aspects this spring, for the highest expression of Venus and Neptune (human and divine love) and to treat ourselves to the healing medicine of our North Nodes.

A final note: a friend of mine who has just celebrated five years of recovery from late stage Ovarian cancer, reminded me that “Love comes unconditionally.” Her cancer experience brought her to new levels of joy and “miracles” that she never expected. She said it also made her more “real.” What an interesting term! We tend to think that realness and reality is the negative bottom line—a Saturnian concept. In her case, she opened to an entirely different “reality” that showed her a deeper capacity for both joy and gratefulness. She tapped into Venus and Neptune and it transformed her life.
Elizabeth Spring © www.elizabethspring.com