Stop Building Boundaries Around Villains

An Astrological Reflection on Access

I originally wrote this piece in the aftermath of the Leo Full Moon, from a place of real frustration. It has sat in my drafts for months. After the recent Scorpio Full Moon, it feels just as much about collective healing as it does about what first inspired it.

As I write this, the Moon is waning in Virgo after a glorious Leo Full Moon. Uranus has just stationed direct in Taurus, though I felt him come online at the Full Moon. I dropped a Raw Report, co-hosted an impromptu Substack Live, launched a new podcast — and every plan I had for today was rearranged. With the Sun, Mercury, Mars, and Pluto all stacked in Aquarius, chaos felt less like disruption and more like weather.

With my plans in disarray, I sat down to journal. When I opened my homemade Moon Journal — no, not some overpriced POS sold to you by an Oprah hack — I realized I hadn’t written in it for six months. The last entries were from the New Moon in Virgo.

Two of the three goals I set then are materializing.

One had not.

I’d written:

Boundaries: establish early warning signs of narcissists and identify green flags for good people.

Six months ago, that felt like the answer to most of my problems.

In hindsight, it wasn’t completely wrong.

It just wasn’t complete.

I subscribe to the adage don’t threaten me with a good time.

I’m almost always up for the downstroke. With an Aries Venus in the 11th house, I make friends at the pace of a forest fire.

On paper, it’s a great placement.

But I also have Chiron in the 11th house — in Taurus. A long lesson in value, belonging, and over-extension in the realm of friendship.

I love big networks. I’m generous with access. But historically, not discerning enough.

Every proverbial cat, dog, rabid raccoon, kitchen sink — and yes, the occasional aspiring serial killer — got the same red-carpet treatment.

And, yes, there were some limited social benefits.

But the pattern was always the same: two steps forward, then tumbling down the stairs.

My boundaries, in short, were garbage.

So the goal felt noble. Necessary.

And it worked.

I successfully avoided being fileted in a Cleveland basement by the next John Wayne Gacy.

Instead, I created an entirely new problem.

I ushered in the emotionally needy.

I had originally designed my boundaries around the boogeyman.

After Pluto in Capricorn, I’d had enough experience with people who walked and talked like Patrick Bateman. I studied them. Learned their tells. Swore never again.

And I hadn’t. It was refreshing.

But like the movie Sinners1, the vampires I feared still had one rule: they had to be invited in.

My vigilance was tuned to shadowy figures in the night. I completely missed the energy leakage happening in broad daylight.

No more creepy dudes texting “U up?”

Instead: “Hey, you got a second?”

Coffee chats where people “picked my brain” but never supported my work.

Phone calls during commutes where I listened to their hectic day — only for the line to go dead the moment it was my turn to speak.

Text threads where I replied immediately, then sat on read for months — until their latest relationship imploded and they needed a shoulder to cry on.

The list was long enough to make the pattern undeniable.

There’s another layer here — especially for those who have heavy water placements, Libra placements, strong Neptune/Pisces/12th‑house energy, and/or Chiron in the 11th house.

This isn’t about weakness.

It’s about permeability.

Heavy water and Libra placements come with emotional attunement baked in. We register distress without being asked. We don’t just listen — we receive. Without structure — Capricorn structure — that receptivity becomes an open channel. Not for predators, but for overflow.

And Chiron in the 11th house isn’t a wound of isolation. It’s a wound of belonging. Of over-contribution. Of the quiet belief that usefulness secures your place in the group.

That combination doesn’t attract villains.

It attracts overwhelmed people.

People who mistake your presence for capacity.

People who want endless access — not harm.

Narcissists are easy to spot. They trip alarms now.

The emotionally needy? Don’t.

They feel familiar.

Harmless.

Even virtuous to help.

Once I understood that, it was obvious how they’d gotten in.

The breaking point finally came. Someone reached out asking if they could “call real quick.” 911. It was urgent.

I was tapped out. I’d already spoken with the person earlier that week. I agreed anyway.

They rehashed the same issue we’d covered months ago. Advice I’d already given — advice they’d only just decided to implement because they were upset now. They wanted me to say it again.

At one point, they even used their chart as a justification for why I should help them emotionally regulate in real time.

And that was the moment.

I remembered I had a chart too.

I replied, “I have an Aquarius Moon and I’m exhausted. I can’t process this emotionally with you right now. I can only address it logically.”

Boogeymen weren’t the problem.

The way I structured my access was.

I’m not anti–Moon Journaling. I’m glad I do it.

And I did it again today.

But not just for manifestation — because it showed me exactly where I’d been leaking energy while telling myself I was protected.

My original intention identified the issue: boundaries.

But I built them to guard against specific people.

Against obvious threats.

Against “bad actors.”

What I didn’t do was regulate access.

I wasn’t accounting for people who appeared kind, well-meaning, and completely porous — people who wanted free therapy, no accountability, and unlimited emotional hosting.

What I needed wasn’t better radar for villains.

It was clean boundaries.

And to actually identify those “green flags” I never got to.

What actually changes things

Not theory.

Not journaling prompts.

Not diagnosing anyone harder.

This did.

1. I stopped designing boundaries around who someone was and started designing them around what I am available for.

   I am available for reciprocal relationships.
   
   This is the green flag. Not optional.

2. I stopped responding in real time.

   An emergency on your part is not one on mine, mama.
   
   My emotion is not an entitlement.

3. I stopped explaining.

   Clean boundaries don’t require backstory.
   
   They don’t require consensus.
   
   Boss bitches don’t negotiate their worth.

4. I stopped confusing kindness with access.

   Care doesn’t mean unlimited entry.
   
   Empathy doesn’t mean emotional hosting.
   
   And I can love you close or from a safer distance.

Healthy relationships shouldn’t require constant vigilance.

They just require a little structure.

And this is something I can do whether the moon is waxing or waning.