A Thirsty Queen

I struggle a lot with bitterness, resentment, and envy.

Since working with the Tarot, I can see it as a direct result of not embodying Queen energy well. Queens offer themselves care, sanctuary, retreat. They set appropriate boundaries; they focus on their own nourishment and protection.

I suck at this, generally. And to be fair, Queens have to work at it! Queens’ element is Water (plus the element of their respective suit), and water is not known for respecting boundaries, for staying contained. Water defaults to flowing out and towards. This is why Queens often get the reputation of being mothering, nurturing caretakers–it’s their path of least resistance!

This is the path I so often choose. But of course, we know the saying: you can’t pour from an empty cup! The evolutionary work of the Queens is to learn to keep their own cup full, and that means learning to say NO, which is never easy for water. Water wants to merge, to connect. It is relational. Queens can struggle with feeling selfish when they build the containers (i.e set the boundaries) that are required to preserve their water. They rightly intuit that they will disappoint people when they finally stop over-giving. So very often, they keep on denying their own thirst and continue to pour into everyone else.

And then what happens? They shrivel. They get bitter. A bitter Queen has abandoned her relationship with herself in service to relationships with others, and then finds that she resents those very relationships. She envies all those who slake their own thirst, because she can’t remember how. A thirsty Queen is full of sorrow, but cannot even weep because she is so desiccated. A thirsty Queen grows brittle and doesn’t trust herself to adapt to the changing demands of life’s various seasons. If she cannot trust herself, how can she trust anyone else? The thirsty Queen grows lonely and mean.

The solution for this is simple, but not easy. Again, it is to move in a way that is counter-intuitive for water. It means the slow work of building and reinforcing boundaries that water erodes. It means risking relationship with those who prefer you thirsty and self-sacrificing. It means acknowledging that you are worthy of care and nourishment, and understanding that just because you must provide it for yourself does not mean that no one else is willing or able to offer it to you.

It is, honestly, terrifying to move into the inner sanctuary of the Queens when you have avoided it for so long. You must stand before the gazing pool where the reflection of your long neglected self has been waiting. The water has grown low, stagnant, and thick with a film of algae. It’s so hard to see your own face, but the ache of abandonment there is plain. You become starkly aware of just how long you let yourself languish, and how much fresh water you’ll need to pour into yourself before you’re full again.

And worst of all, water = feelings. Ew. Queens have to feel their own feelings, and for a lot of us, that’s why we misuse this archetype, because we’d just rather not, thanks.

My daughters are on a cruise with their father right now, and I happen to have a very light schedule for the next couple of days. I’ve been longing for some time to myself like this, but now that I have it, I realize how disoriented and anxious it makes me. I don’t have the needs of kids and clients to let me avoid my own ‘stuff’. There is nothing stopping me from nourishing myself now. I have the time and space to have a conversation with myself, to fill my own cup. But the feelings are waiting there. Feelings of grief and rage, hunger and heartache, resentment. There is a counsel of bitter Queens who demand to know why, why, why have I sent so much water downstream when it is so desperately needed here?

Photo by redcharlie on Unsplash

Where I live in Central Texas, we’ve been in a long drought. For years, when our main reservoir was at record lows with no meaningful rain on the horizon, the river authority still allowed water to be released downstream for the rice farmers, because there was a long-standing agreement that they ‘couldn’t’ break. Everyone around here was like: wtf?! It felt insane to give away so much water when the demand here was so great and the lakes so quickly dwindling. The mismanagement of water stirs up so much emotion, so much fear and anger.

It is, frankly, a bummer to come face-to-face with our own capacity, and our need to conserve. Wouldn’t it be nice to just flow out, endlessly, never going dry? Never disappointing anyone. No one going thirsty. But to be an evolved Queen means to be a realist and a conservationist, a guardian of our own resources. It means prioritizing our own ‘lake levels’, so that we can give from an abundance and never from a deficit (which is how evolved Queens can give rise to generous and secure King energy).

I think about this in my career. I’ve been doing massage for over 26 years now, and I have a large roster of clients that I hate to disappoint. I keep myself way too booked up, and frankly, I’m not great at taking care of myself most of the time. I don’t schedule lunch breaks, I don’t stretch enough or rest enough or hydrate enough. I’m a thirsty Queen of Pentacles, who has sent all her water downstream to her clients (and is driven by a fear of financial scarcity to boot, which is Queen of Pentacles’ special neurosis!). I am so focused on these relationships with people who I do deeply care for, but as I continue to pour out and out without stopping to refill, not only do I get exhausted and worse at my job, I start to lose compassion for people. I’ve forgotten to have it for myself, first–compassion for the part of me that has needs, that requires my own attention and care.

I don’t want to offer people the bitter dregs of myself. And that’s what I do when I keep myself in perpetual drought, when I keep myself thirsty. If I truly want to be able to give nourishment, I must be nourished.

I hope this work is easier for you than it is for me! I wish you deep wells and a full cup and the strength to say no, I cannot release downstream today.

Here’s a prompt to try:

The nourishment I offer others, but do not offer myself

And if you’re up for a longer spread, take out all four Queens, and draw another card for each one:

What nourishes my inner Queen of Cups/Pentacles/Swords/Wands?

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Here’s an older post about thirst

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