Your Personal 2026 Predictions From The Only Forecaster I Trust
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Hello Loonies!
What is everyone doing for New Year’s Eve, huh? Anyone without plans can crash my party, either virtually or in person. I will give you all the details in the comments (because I am making up the details as I write this).
Meanwhile, to start off your new year right, and because I forgot to post this horoscope on the first day of Capricorn, here are your predictions for the beginning of a whole new year! If you have not been reading this astrology (and so much more) column, I’m sorry for your life, but here is some info: It is written by our one and only Autistic Astrologer, Bee. For background on her and how being autistic influences the accuracy and depth of her readings, check out her It Happened To Me story, which is how we met (speaking of which, send your own IHTM submission any old time to jane@anotherjaneprattthing.com because I would love to run it and pay you 50 whole dollars for it).
Another reason I believe these predictions over any others is because our prescient Bee once told us all what would be the best day for sex that month. Even people who didn't read her prediction before (meaning pre-good sex) chimed in to say that the date she named, the legendary October 21 which will go down in fucking history, was indeed their very very best sex ever - or at least their best of the year.
The other amazing thing about Bee is that every month she so generously gives personally tailored answers to every question anyone asks in the comments. So take advantage of that, as I always do. She has guided so many of us here with uncannily accurate and precise directions through all kinds of hyper-specific dilemmas. (I took her advice about being with my family over the holidays and was soooooo glad I did. They may or may not have felt the same way, but I only care about my own Scorpio outcome, so I was pleased.)
Particularly because of the story about her Capricorn stepmonster that she starts with below, I would love to hear from Capricorns specifically on how they feel about their descriptions here. (I have heard it all about my Scorpio self, so no criticism would phase me - nasty things people say about Scorpios actually make me feel proud to be one – which I guess is a very Scorpio reaction. But my BF Michael is Capricorn, so I want to read this again now with him in mind and see what resonates and doesn't.)
Then let's get in those comments and talk and fight and tell what sign we are and what sign we can't stand to be around and how much we are looking forward to living out Bee’s predictions for our first month of 2026! Or not! See you somewhere at midnight ET!
Love forever,
Jane
PS In the spirit of the new year – and because I really want as many of you as possible to be able to read all of the incredible stories and comments on AJPT - I'm making it a little easier by dropping the price to our lowest ever (which is 20% lower than usual and just over $5 a month) if you subscribe here by January 8th. Thanks for considering it!
By The Zine Witch
I’m not gonna let her affect me. I’m not gonna let her affect me. Dammit, I’m not gonna allow her words to affect me today.
The words pulse in my head like a drum as I sit in a folding chair at her wedding, a few years after my father died, watching something so unhinged unfold that it feels utterly illegal to witness sober. On this day, my ugly stepmonster is marrying her nephew’s wife’s….father. They met of all places….at the funeral of his deceased wife. I could not make this shit up if I tried.
And yet here I am, dressed nicely, smiling politely, while everyone around me gossips about what a martyr this woman is for “taking me in” after my parents died and behaves like this affair is the most reasonable thing in the world and I the most controversial. This is Wacky World as my late father would say.
She is glowing. Of course she is. She always glows when she has crossed a boundary so massive it bends everyone else’s reality around it. She floats through the room like she is hosting a brunch at her college sorority instead of marrying an elderly man she met while his wife was still warm in the ground. She tips the wine bottle into her mouth as if to show she is still that same old party girl at heart. Deb. With her sexy shoulders every husband on Facebook comments on. People hug her. They beam. They say things like, “Isn’t love amazing?” and “Life works in mysterious ways,” as if the universe personally orchestrated this with a straight face.
“My dad cheated on my mom with this second-hand, knockoff Gucci piece back in the 80’s, and it altered the course of everyone’s life around her for decades.”
I look around waiting for someone to lock eyes with me and silently mouth, “What the fuck,” but no one does. I feel like I have accidentally wandered into a traveling circus where I am the only one who did not get the script. If there were pearls, I’d clutch them. But, Deb most likely would have stolen them from my dead mother’s jewelry box before I could ever clutch them.
My dad cheated on my mom with this second-hand, knockoff Gucci piece back in the 80’s, and it altered the course of everyone’s life around her for decades. Easily the stupidest thing he ever did, right after dressing up as a rabbi and blessing non-kosher turkeys, trying to pass them off as kosher. #TrueStory
I’m not gonna let her affect me. I’m not gonna let her affect me. I say to myself.
“Watching her smiling for photos like she is not a walking ethics violation, I feel the sensation that I am the only sober person in a room full of people insisting the floor is not tilting.”
This woman moved into my house three days after my mother died. Three days. She took my mother’s things like they were props in a play she had been rehearsing for years. When she eventually moved out, she refused to give them back to me. Jewelry. Personal items. Pieces of my mother’s life. Gone. Everyone shrugged. Everyone normalized it. Everyone acted like this was just how things go. Watching her now at this wedding, smiling for photos like she is not a walking ethics violation, I feel that same familiar vertigo. The sensation that I am the only sober person in a room full of people insisting the floor is not tilting.
She was a Capricorn. Capricorn is all about commitment and committed to the bit till the end she was. In this 3 act play, she was determined to play the role of the grieving widow, the martyr who dedicated her life to this troubled girl, and of course the one who walked away with all the dead woman’s earthly possessions including her man.
In that moment, I realized that my stepmother’s need to compete with me was not just personal: it was patriarchy in action. Capricorn embodies work, ambition, capitalism, and the structures that hold society together, but it also enforces scarcity, hierarchy, and the belief that there is only so much space for success or stability. Her competitiveness was a reflection of that system, a model of how women are often trained to see each other as threats rather than allies. To truly unlearn patriarchy, I had to reteach myself how to communicate with other women, even those who were invested in keeping us small, and challenge the scarcity mindset that there is not enough room for all of us to thrive. I had to create my own framework for connection, proving to myself that stability, support, and growth can exist collectively, not just individually.
“What are you doing for work?” she would ask every time we got together. As if my value could be measured by a job title, a paycheck, or some externally validated form of competence. My whole family seemed to define identity through work. It is capitalism, yes, but it is also the darker Capricorn lesson: authority, mastery, and the expectation that you perform and measure up. Being autistic, this was brutal. Jobs came and went. Social adaptation drained me. Every misstep felt like proof I did not belong. It took me a long time to find my thing. Even when I found it, no one else seemed happy for me. I am not my job. But maybe Deb is also more than a black widow. Maybe not.
Growing up neurodivergent often feels like being dropped into a kitchen that never wanted you there, then getting yelled at for not knowing the menu or how to make the meal. You move too slow. You talk wrong. You overheat quickly and crash out. You ask the wrong questions. You flinch when the heat gets loud. Every mistake gets clocked. Every strength gets misread as a problem. If you ask questions, you’re annoying. If you’re nice, they hate you. So you learn to keep your head down, to work twice as hard for half the grace, to swallow the part of you that notices everything because noticing too much makes people uncomfortable. This is what it’s like being neurodivergent for me.
You spend years thinking the problem is your brain, your timing, your emotions. You think if you just sharpen yourself enough, dull yourself enough, disappear enough, you will finally be allowed to stay. That is how the self hatred creeps in. Not all at once, but like grease under the fingernails. Permanent. Invisible. Hard to scrub out.
Then life gives you a stepmother like this. My entire value as a human depended on the work I do and what she has to show for it.
I repeated my mantra relentlessly: I’m not gonna let her affect me. I’m not gonna let her affect me. Ten plus years later, silence has become a kind of victory. Cutting her out was the best thing I ever did for myself. It wasn’t easy at first. But, in Capricorn fashion, the more I stuck to my mission, the easier it became.
That’s the thing. Capricorn season is not just about ambition or achievement. It is about self-possession, boundaries, and authority over your own life. I became my own authority when I said to myself I would no longer speak to those who don’t see my intrinsic value. I answer only to myself, to the choices that align with my values, to the person I want to be. I look in the mirror and ask: do I like the person I am? For the first time, the answer is yes.
There’s a lot of discourse online these days about going no contact with family. But the thing that people seem to leave out is how many times we collectively try to make it work before we give up because we realize having someone like that in our life that will never change is slow suicide.
Boundaries are hard. They are not just lines on a map or rules written in your head. They are daily acts of courage, decisions repeated over and over, small but relentless, like a mantra you have to believe even when the world is shouting otherwise. Setting a boundary against someone like her feels impossible at first. She moves like a storm through ordinary spaces, erasing rules and decency as she goes. Saying no, refusing her calls, not engaging with the chaos, protecting what is yours: these things do not come easily. Every refusal can feel like rebellion, every insistence on your own space can feel selfish. But the hardest part of boundaries is not the act itself. It is the patience to maintain them, the discipline to repeat them when the world pushes back, and the stubbornness to believe that your needs matter as much as everyone else’s comfort.
Capricorn season always illuminates this struggle. It sharpens the contrast between what is structurally sound and what is held together with denial and politeness. Capricorn is about responsibility, authority, and maturity, but it also demands mastery over your own life. Part of that mastery is holding the line, even when the world normalizes abuse, entitlement, or chaos. It is about knowing that saying no, even when it makes others uncomfortable, is a declaration of your sovereignty. It is about repeating the same mantra day after day, quietly, stubbornly, until it becomes not just a phrase but a shield, a compass, and a truth.
There is humor here, if you look closely, in the absurdity of her life versus the slow, quiet, stubborn power I cultivated. She may marry widowed men she meets at funerals, take belongings she has no right to, and turn grief into a playground. She may cross every boundary, bend every rule, and still glide through life smiling. I do not have to. I am my own player. I set the rules. I carry the stakes. I have cultivated my own authority, my own measure, my own home. Ten years of practice, repetition, and refusal to be swept into her orbit have made this truth unshakable.
Capricorn season reminds us of our boundaries. It teaches that discipline is not punishment. It is not schedules, productivity, or visible success. Discipline is self-possession. It is holding the line when everyone around you wants to redraw it. It is carrying a boundary through years of testing and chaos, refusing to bend under manipulation, absurdity, or expectation. It is practicing patience, self-respect, and humor in the face of absurdity. When you hold your line, when you keep your commitments to yourself, when you repeat the mantra and believe it, you are finally living the discipline, mastery, and sovereignty that Capricorn promises.
Ten years of silence, ten years of repeating my mantra, have shown me that boundaries are hard, yes, but they are the spine of authority. They are the invisible walls that protect your life from intrusion, your choices from interference, and your self-respect from compromise. They are the most difficult, most necessary work of Capricorn season, and the reward is undeniable. I am finally my own authority, my own boss, mother, father, sister, and friend.
Best Day to Take Deliberate Action or to Commit to Something: January 18
Best Day to Have a Good Conversation or Settle a Squabble: January 21
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