Haven’t we had enough already?
That was my honest first thought when I sat with Stage 6, the stage sometimes known as Struggle or the Dragon Fight. Not the polished answer. Not the wise therapist answer. Just the human one.
Because really, haven’t we?
So many of us have been carrying a lot. Some of it visible. Some of it tucked away in the body. Some of it held quietly because life kept asking us to keep going.
And then June arrives.
The light comes in differently. The days stretch longer. There is this pull toward summer, toward movement, toward freedom, toward something easier. Part of me wants to exhale and say, please, can we just have some softness now?
And yet Stage 6 does not necessarily bring us softness first. It brings us to the place where something presses back.
In the language of this stage, there is struggle. Tension. Opposition. A dragon at the gate.
At first, that sounds like the opposite of June. It also sounds like the opposite of the number 6 in numerology, which is often connected with care, home, responsibility, harmony, and healing. But the more I sit with it, the more I feel how connected these energies actually are.
Care is not always soft.
Sometimes care has to become honest. Sometimes, care has to say this is too much. Sometimes care has to stop smoothing things over and start telling the truth.
That is not easy for many of us, especially for those of us who learned to survive by being agreeable, useful, quiet, pleasing, capable, or low need. If peace once depended on us not having too many feelings, then struggle can feel dangerous. Conflict can feel like failure. A boundary can feel like betrayal.
But in therapy, and especially in trauma work, I do not always see struggle as something to get rid of. Sometimes, struggle is a doorway. It shows us where two parts of us are trying to be heard.
One part wants rest. Another part feels responsible.
One part wants to say no. Another part is afraid of what will happen if we do.
One part wants freedom. Another part is still bracing for impact.
This is where Stage 6 feels less like a battle and more like an invitation to listen.
The dragon may not be here simply to fight us. It may be guarding something. A fear. A younger part. A grief. A need. A truth we have not yet been ready to name.
As an art and trauma therapist, I often think about how much the body and imagination know before words arrive. We may not be able to explain why we feel tense, restless, resentful, or exhausted, but something in us is already making an image. A wall. A fire. A locked door. A tired animal. A storm. A dragon.
These images matter.
They give form to what has been living underneath the surface. They help us approach what feels too big to meet directly. They let us be in relationship with the struggle instead of being swallowed by it.
Maybe this is part of the medicine of Stage 6 in June. Not to force ourselves into harmony, and not to fight everything that feels uncomfortable, but to ask what kind of harmony is actually true.
Because harmony that requires self abandonment is not healing.
Care that has no boundaries eventually becomes resentment.
Love that asks us to disappear is not love we can live inside of.
So perhaps the question this month is not, how do I avoid the struggle? Perhaps the question is, what is the struggle trying to protect, reveal, or restore?
Where have I been overriding myself?
Where am I tired of pretending something is fine?
Where does my body say no before my mouth does?
Where is the dragon standing, and what might it be guarding?
I do not think we have to answer these questions quickly. In fact, I hope we do not. Some questions are meant to be lived with for a while. Some truths need gentleness before they can become clear.
So as June opens, maybe we let ourselves be both tired and hopeful. Maybe we let ourselves want ease without shaming the places that still feel tangled. Maybe we allow the longer light to show us what needs care, not so we can fix ourselves, but so we can return to ourselves with more honesty.
Stage 6 reminds me that courage and tenderness do not have to be opposites.
We can have limits and still have love.
We can tell the truth and still be kind.
We can face the dragon without becoming hard.
And maybe, just maybe, the dragon is not here to defeat us. Maybe it is here to show us the part of ourselves that has been waiting to come home.
Mari Grande is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker and a Creative Arts Psychotherapist in New York, New Jersey, California, and Florida with 20+ years of experience working with individuals and groups. She specializes in using creativity to help people heal from traumatic events.
