Somewhere right now, a grown adult is explaining to their manager that the deck is late because Mercury is in retrograde. The manager, to be fair, is nodding.
Mercury went retrograde on 24 October and stays that way until 13 November. If you somehow missed it, you were the only one. It has been in the group chat, in the office, and in the caption under a photo of a spilled iced latte. It has explained a lost AirPod, a double-booked dinner, a forgotten Pilates class and at least one relationship that, if we’re honest, was going backwards long before the planets got involved. Venus is retrograde too until mid-November, and the internet has decided that explains the ex. It does not explain the ex.
A QUICK REFRESHER, FOR THE THREE PEOPLE WHO ASKED
A few times a year, Mercury appears to move backwards across the sky. It doesn’t. Two planets travelling at different speeds on different tracks create an optical illusion. It’s the same trick that makes the car in the next lane on the motorway look, for a second, like it’s rolling backwards. Astrology says this scrambles communication, travel and technology for about three weeks. The internet says it scrambles everything else as well.
Here is the part nobody mentions. Mercury is retrograde roughly nine weeks a year. Add the “shadow” periods either side, which have their own vocabulary now, and you’re covered for close to half the year. That is not a cosmic event. That is a very generous excuse policy.
WE GET THE APPEAL
We are not here to take anyone’s birth chart away. Plenty of us at 4PM Friday know our rising sign and have opinions about it. Astrology is fun and social. There is also something genuinely comforting about a framework that says: this is a strange few weeks, go easy on yourself.
That part is lovely. The problem is the leap from “go easy on yourself” to “none of this is my fault”.
Blaming a planet is efficient. It turns a personal mistake into a shared event, so nobody has to apologise properly. Everyone’s in it together, and nobody’s in trouble. It’s the adult version of the dog eating your homework, except the dog is the smallest planet in the solar system.
A SHORT LIST OF THINGS THAT WERE NOT MERCURY
The text you sent at 1.40am. That was the third glass of wine, and the fact that you still haven’t muted them.
The flight you missed. That was leaving for the airport at 4.50am for a 6am departure because you’d “just sleep on the plane”.
The email that went to the wrong Sarah. Autofill. Also, not reading it twice.
The cracked phone screen. No case. For three years.
The two dinners booked for the same Friday. You said yes to both because saying no felt rude.
The fight in the group chat. Tone has never travelled well over text. Retrograde or direct, “ok.” with a full stop reads as hostile.
WHAT IT ACTUALLY IS, MOST OF THE TIME
Here’s the slightly less funny bit. A lot of what gets filed under retrograde is just overload. It’s too many plans, too many tabs and too many notifications, at a pace that makes three weeks feel like three months. When everything starts slipping at once, that’s useful information. It’s worth noticing, not outsourcing to a planet roughly a hundred million kilometres away.
WHAT WE'RE DOING INSTEAD
Reading the message once more before sending it. Out loud, if it’s to someone we’ve dated.
Leaving twenty minutes earlier than the map suggests. During retrograde, and also every other day of the year.
Backing up the phone. It takes about four minutes and has saved more relationships than any crystal.
Saying “that was my fault” and stopping there. No planetary footnote. It’s oddly freeing, and people trust you more for it.
Turning down the second dinner. A clear no on a Wednesday beats a vague maybe on a Friday.
Taking a reset on purpose. If you need three quiet weeks, take them. Call it whatever you like. Just don’t wait for permission from the sky.
THE REALITY CHECK
Here’s what happens on the morning of 13 November, when Mercury goes direct: nothing.
The emails you didn’t answer are still unanswered. The friend you snapped at is still waiting for a proper apology. The deadline you missed is still missed. The ex is still in your phone. The planet moves on, and your mess stays exactly where you left it.
That’s the uncomfortable truth about retrograde season. It doesn’t create chaos. It just gives the chaos a name, and naming something is not the same as dealing with it. Every time we hand a mistake to the sky, we skip the part where we learn from it. That’s how the same three weeks keep happening to the same people, three times a year.
So use the days that are left, but as a deadline rather than an alibi. Send the reply you’ve been avoiding. Make the apology without the asterisk. Cancel the plan you never wanted. Delete the number.
Growing up isn’t about never getting it wrong. It’s about not needing a planet to get you off the hook when you do.
Keep the horoscope app. Lose the excuse. Mercury goes direct on the 13th. Whether you do is up to you.