The Persistent Crab

I am a Cancer whose sign is symbolized by a crab. There's a lot I don't like about that statement. Too much negative connotation there. Knowing that the word cancer comes from the Latin word for crab doesn't make me feel much better about it. A crab is not the representation I would have chosen, had I been given the choice. After all, who would choose a lowly crustacean over a mighty lioness or a bull or a ram - a fearsome creature that inspires awe and reverence?

The more I think about it, though, the more apt the description becomes. From Allure magazine:

Cancer is a cardinal water sign. Represented by the crab, this oceanic crustacean seamlessly weaves between the sea and shore, representing Cancer's ability to exist in both emotional and material realms… These crabs are highly sensitive to their environments, as well as extremely self-protective. Much like their celestial spirit animal, Cancers are shielded by hard, external shells. At first, these crabs may be perceived as cold or distant. With time, though, Cancers reveal their gentle nature, genuine compassion, and mystical capabilities. Just don't be surprised if it takes a while to get to know them.

Cancer is ruled by the moon, the celestial body that represents comfort, self-care, and maternal energies. Accordingly, Cancers tend to be domestically oriented. They love to create cozy, safe spaces that serve as their personal sanctuaries, then spend lots of time in them.

I belong to water and am ruled by the moon that controls the movements of all water on this planet. I've always been drawn to water, especially the ocean. I sleep most soundly when I can hear the crash of waves, even if that soothing sound is artificially provided by Alexa. To me, the vastness of ocean waters represents hope. I repeatedly long to escape whatever prison I've become trapped in, like Andy Dufresne in the Shawshank Redemption, who - unlike his friend Red, who was frightened by just the thought of the sheer size of it - longed for the comfort and restoration of the sea.

The unfathomable depths of the ocean and the far reaches of the shore encompass both providence and a fear of the unknown. Much like the help and support of friends and family, the healing waters provide nourishment and sustenance. When this introverted hermit crab needs alone time in the warmth of the life-sustaining sun and drifts off into imaginative dreams of what my life could be and doesn't want to be awakened for a while, the rising tide will reach out like nurturing arms and rescue me from being baked alive by a warm-turned-scorching frenemy. When I've been flipped onto my back and am struggling to right myself, a helpful wave comes and turns me right-side-up again. When I'm stressed or overwhelmed, when my world becomes unpleasant and is threatening to come crashing down on me like a wet sand castle, I seek refuge with those whom I know I can trust to keep me safe from the elements and predators.

I prefer a close-knit circle of trusted companions to a wide net of acquaintances. I despise wasting time on nonsensical small talk that's full of white lies. It can be difficult to penetrate my hard shell, but those who gain my trust can probe my unexplored depths. There's a lot of activity beneath the surface. I want to deeply and intimately connect with others who will enrich my life and make it less mundane but will also respect my space and my need for self-care. This is why I had no problem dumping so-called "friends" who had no respect - and even ridiculed - my need to keep myself, as well as those I love, safe during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Or should I say Karen?

My happiest moments are spent making my current shell as coziest and comfortable as possible and relaxing in my home. But when I have outgrown that shell, when it has become claustrophobic, I search for something better. It's not always easy to find, but I don't give up. It can be sad to leave a home behind, but moving from place to place feeds my adventurous side. That's why, even when I am stuck in one place, I have to satisfy myself with changes that are easier to make. I rearrange and redecorate. I change my hair color or makeup or wardrobe. Or even my career. Variety is the spice of life. So is creativity. But no matter how much I change my exterior, my vulnerable underside always remains the same, and it must always be protected.

I'm not usually perceived as a threat, but I am a true fighter when the stakes are high. When my home or self is threatened, I strike with my pincers and inflict as much pain as I can. I keep a tight hold on what I cherish, and once I get my claws on something, I won't let go without a fight - even if it's a battle I will likely lose. In all other matters, I pick my battles and usually avoid the fight and seek alternative paths to my goals. More often than not, I tend to move sideways when I desperately want to move forward. This explains why, after more than twenty years of adulthood, I'm still struggling to get to where I want to be in life. I can't make it alone; I need the help of communal waters to sweep me forward in my quest for a better life.

It may seem contraindicative for a Cancer to lead a semi-nomadic existence. It's easy to think that I don't have the typical trait of being a caregiver who places family and home and roots above all else. However, upon further reflection, I've realized that is the path I need to take until I am personally fulfilled. How can I take care of others if I can't sustain myself? I have to put my oxygen mask on first; I need to make sure I survive. One day, when I am at peace with myself and my choices, I can see myself putting down firm roots. Until then, I will continue to do the best I can on shifting sand. I am persistent and resilient, and I will always find ways to cope. As long as there is life in me, there is hope.