If you are a Scorpio Rising, the last seven years haven’t just been difficult—they’ve been a total structural redesign of your life. Since Uranus entered Taurus in 2018, it has been traveling through our 7th House, the area of life governing our most intimate one-to-one connections.
As Uranus prepares to station direct and eventually move out of Taurus and into Gemini in the next couple of months, I’ve been looking around at the landscape of my life. To be honest? It looks like a blast site. But the dust is finally settling enough for me to be able to get a good look around me.
The Great Disruptor in the House of Others
I always like to start an astrological analysis by taking a look at each of the players…
Uranus is the Great Awakener. It’s lightning-strike energy: sudden, eccentric, chaotic, and uncompromising.
Taurus is the sign of the builder. It craves consistency, value, and stability.
The 7th House is where we meet our mirrors—our partners, best friends, and open enemies.
When you put the planet of instability into the sign of "staying put," something has to give. For me, it felt like trying to walk down a funhouse hallway that wouldn’t stop tilting. Every time I thought I had my footing, the floor shifted.
The Trap of the "Stable" Partner
As a Scorpio Rising, my internal world is a constant state of evolution and intensity. Because I am always changing, I’ve historically looked for a rock—someone steady, Taurean, and immovable to anchor me.
But there’s a shadow side to that Taurean energy I didn't see coming. Sometimes, the "builder" starts to think of people as "possessions." During this transit, I found myself in a ten-year relationship that turned into a hoarding situation—not just of objects, but of me. I became something owned, kept in a trap of financial control and psychological "good girl" games.
I thought I was choosing stability. In reality, I was choosing a prison.
Remember- nothing in this world is free.
The Breaking Point(s)
Uranus doesn’t do subtle dissolution. It doesn’t do slow fades. It does breakthroughs and breakdowns. My transition out of that life was a series of lightning strikes:
The Friendships: I realized my Uranian friends—the ones I loved for their eccentric views—were often just using "originality" as a shield for being inconsistent or stubbornly "right." (About fucking everything. Always…)
The Sudden Loss: Three months after finally leaving my long-term partner, he passed away from a heart attack. Sudden. Gone. Just like that. The ultimate Uranian unexpected change.
The Final Showdown: I traded one cage for another when I moved in with a friend who turned out to be a landlord of the soul. She rewrote our history to create a false narrative of my "indebtedness," demanding more money and more gratitude as interest on a loan I never took out. It was a brutal awakening to the fact that some people don't want friends; they want assets. And if you don't pay up emotionally, they'll come for your peace of mind instead.
The final strike happened at 5:30 AM over a parking spot. In the middle of the screaming and the chaos, the lightning hit. I didn't have a working phone. I didn't have a plan. I just got in the car and drove to the police station. I was done.
What’s Left When the Dust Settles
If you’re looking for a silver lining, I’m not going to give you the "everything happens for a reason" speech. This transit was a shit-show. As I write this, I am alone. No partner, no bestie, and one very clear open enemy.
But here is the meaning I’ve found in the rubble:
Stability cannot be outsourced. I spent years looking for a "rock" externally because I didn't trust my own ground. I realized that if someone else holds the keys to your stability, they can use them to lock you in. Or out.
I know my "No." I have learned exactly what I will and will not tolerate. I no longer negotiate my self-worth by giving more money or more grace to people who only want to take.
The Space is a Gift. For a serial monogamist who fears being alone, sitting in this silence is the most radical thing I’ve ever done.
To anyone else navigating the end of this transit: If you’ve lost people, if you’ve been betrayed, or if you’re suddenly standing alone—know that Uranus hasn't destroyed your life. It has destroyed the things that were preventing you from having a life.
The ground has finally stopped moving. Now, we get to decide what we want to build on the cleared land.
