11/12/2025
Part 4.5 of my 12th House Series
It’s been weeks since I wrote about my 4th House, and I promised a part 2. This has been a difficult thing to write- I am taking memories, most of which I have not confronted head-on before, and trying to put words to them. During this time, I’ve agonized over these words- will speaking my truth hurt others? Specifically, my mother? Should I address these things with her before I share publicly? Was I ready for that conversation? Was it actually necessary?
Ultimately, whether it was fear or confidence that guided me, I decided to just write and see what happened. I will be covering some distressing topics, so I will give you a trigger warning before said topics, so you can avoid them if you need.
I broke the 4th House up into two parts. The 1st part discusses how this house is all about our roots and where we come from. Because my 4th House has Scorpio on its cusp and has Pluto nestled in a stellium here, I also talked about rebirth and cycle-breaking and how so many Millennials with their Pluto in Scorpio are here to transform.
So, let’s continue… The work of breaking cycles doesn’t stop once you understand your pain. You’ve only just uncovered the first layer- the next part is learning how that pain shaped the way you love, trust, and nurture; how it echoes in the quiet moments of your adulthood. I have spent years focusing on the impact my father made in my life, only recently realizing that much of my emotional wiring was also influenced by my mother. Her version of love was quieter, more avoidant, but no less formative.
I’ve only just begun digging into this wound, but so far, I am finding it much more insidious than what I experienced with my father-wound. My father’s pain was loud; it had edges, volume, and visible impact. When someone yells, you know you’re being hurt. But when someone withdraws, doubt starts to creep in, convincing you that maybe you’re the problem. My mother’s pain was quiet and came through in silence, avoidance, and the absence of emotional presence.
That’s what makes this wound harder to face: it hides what didn’t happen- the words never said, the comfort never offered, the questions never asked.
It’s taken me a long time to recognize that what my mother offered me was absence. I can already hear her in my mind, arguing that she couldn’t have been absent- she worked from home most of my young life and was always (physically) around when I needed her. But emotional presence isn’t measured by proximity. Sure, her body was there, but her attention, her warmth, her curiosity about who I was- those were somewhere else.
Part of the complexity comes from her own family history. My mother carried traumas passed down from her upbringing. There was significant abuse, and much of that ripple effect shaped how my mother learned to show love. My mother had a lot of s**t that she passed down, unintentionally. My mother’s trauma includes, but is not limited to, a fixation with looks, weight, and fitting in. Remember in my 1st House post, I mentioned that she often told me that I would be pretty if my skin cleared up? She would also sometimes point out girls who were fatter than me and say something along the lines of, “See? You could look like her- aren’t you glad you don’t?”. I strongly believe most boomer mothers have unwittingly passed on this type of trauma to their daughters.
Through my 4th House lens, I can see why her absence cut so deeply. This house governs the hidden emotional patterns that shape us, and her lack of emotional presence left gaps I had to navigate alone. I’ve also realized that this isn’t unique- many children experience similar dynamics- and understanding that has helped me feel less isolated and more empathetic. My mother carried her own wounds, which doesn’t excuse her absence, but it explains it.
Let’s talk about the astrology behind our dynamic.
Right off the bat, our Suns are in conflict. My Capricorn Sun and her Aries Sun are 90° apart, forming a square, which creates tension and friction, especially in expression and identity. I needed consistency and guidance, while she moved fast and prioritized independence, often without considering how that affected me. That fundamental difference made it hard for her to consistently meet my emotional needs, even when she cared. I remember her saying to me, “Why can’t you be more charismatic like me (and your dad)?”- a moment that crystallized the expectation that I should mirror their personalities rather than be allowed to develop my own. (But also, I was a deeply depressed teenager- of course, I wasn’t charismatic!)
My Leo Moon craves warmth, affirmation, and emotional consistency- it wants to be seen and appreciated. My mother’s Sagittarius Moon, by contrast, processes feelings through independence, exploration, and a more distant lens. This creates a natural tension: I needed closeness and validation, while she values freedom and space. The result was an emotional mismatch- one of us often feeling unseen- not always because of neglect, but often because our emotional languages were fundamentally different.
With my 12th House in Cancer, I was deeply sensitive to hidden emotional dynamics- the subtle ways people who are supposed to keep you safe can let you down. Emotional neglect, withdrawal, or inconsistency from caregivers felt like hidden attacks on my security. My mother’s Cancer Rising added another layer: she could seem nurturing and protective, but her own trauma, insecurities, and avoidant patterns (Libra 4th House, Sagittarius Moon) made her emotionally inconsistent in ways I couldn’t always name. Through my 12th House, I felt every undercurrent, leaving me feeling unseen, unheard, and unsupported. My Scorpio 4th House amplified this sensitivity, making me hyper-aware of what was unspoken or withheld. Her presence could feel protective and destabilizing at the same time- a quiet but profound influence I only fully recognized as an adult.
**** Trigger warning| self harm****
One of the starkest memories I have of this absence comes from when I was about 15. I was deeply depressed and, at one point, swallowed a bunch of pills, and when I told my mother about it, she sighed and asked if I needed to go to the hospital, as if I were a burden she needed to stop everything for. In truth, I don’t actually know why she sighed, but that moment was interpreted by me as annoyance and solidified the emotional distance I was feeling. She never asked me if I needed therapy or deeper support, and in fact, when I later resorted to other means of self-harm, I think she only ever once asked about it, in a way that made me feel stupid instead of supported.
Those moments are hard to revisit (part of why this has taken me SO long to write), but, it also marks the beginning of my awareness- of seeing how emotional neglect can live beneath the surface. It’s one of the reasons I write about these wounds now: to bring light to the quiet forms of pain that shape us.
****
Looking back, these experiences were formative in ways I couldn’t see at the time. They shaped how I understood safety, love, and trust- and, in some ways, how I continue to navigate relationships today. But they also gave me tools: self-awareness, empathy, and the ability to recognize subtle patterns of emotional absence, both in myself and in others. Writing this isn’t about blaming; it’s about naming what was real, acknowledging the impact, and reclaiming the narrative of my own life. My 4th and 12th Houses taught me that the deepest wounds often run quietly, but they also hold the keys to transformation. By facing these truths, I step more fully into my power- and I hope my words help anyone else who has felt unseen know that their experience is valid, and that healing is possible.
I recognize that my story is deeply personal, and these dynamics don’t play out the same way for everyone with similar placements. Astrology shows tendencies, not destiny. For some, parental presence and emotional attunement manifest differently, and the work of the 4th and 12th Houses can take many forms. What matters is the conscious effort to face our shadows, to notice the patterns that were passed down, and to create the love, validation, and safety we needed but didn’t always receive. Doing this work doesn’t erase the past, but it transforms it- turning absence into awareness, silence into understanding, and pain into the foundation for empathy, resilience, and deeper connection.
Next, we’ll be talking about the 5th House- which is A LOT lighter and more fun to discuss. 😅
