Belle Gibson first rose to prominence in the early 2010s as a wellness advocate. She claimed that she had been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer in 2009 and had only months to live. Instead of undergoing conventional treatment, she said she had cured herself through a healthy lifestyle, clean eating, and alternative therapies. Her story resonated with many people, especially those seeking alternatives to traditional medicine. Using her growing influence, she launched The Whole Pantry, a wellness app and later a cookbook. The app was marketed as a guide to healthy living, featuring recipes, lifestyle tips, and holistic health advice. It gained significant popularity, even being featured as a pre-installed app on Apple Watches in some regions. Gibson positioned herself as an inspiration to many, advocating for natural healing and criticizing mainstream medicine.

A key part of Gibson’s image was her supposed generosity. She claimed that a large portion of her app and book proceeds would go to various charities, including organizations supporting children with cancer and other health-related causes. However, investigations revealed that she never donated most of the promised money. As her fame grew, medical professionals and journalists started questioning her story. There were inconsistencies in her timeline, and no medical records ever confirmed her diagnosis. Additionally, people close to her began coming forward, doubting her claims.

In 2015, an investigative report by The Australian and The Age newspapers exposed Belle Gibson as a fraud. She had never had cancer and had fabricated her entire story. After being confronted, she admitted in an interview with Australian Women’s Weekly that she had never been diagnosed with cancer. Her excuse was vague, and she suggested she had been misled by alternative health practitioners. This revelation caused public outrage, especially among cancer patients and families who had looked up to her. Her book was pulled from shelves, her app was removed from stores, and she faced significant backlash from the media and public. In 2017, Australia’s consumer watchdog, the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission (ACCC), took legal action against Gibson. She was found guilty of misleading and deceptive conduct. In 2019, she was fined $410,000 AUD for her fraudulent claims and failure to donate promised funds. She never paid the fine in full, and the government later pursued her for failing to comply with court orders.

After her exposure, Belle Gibson largely disappeared from the public eye. Reports suggest she has continued living in Australia, occasionally resurfacing in media reports for failing to pay fines or appearing in social circles under new identities. However, she has not rebuilt her public career, and her credibility remains shattered.

Apple Cider Vinegar

The Netflix doc Apple Cider Vinegar has reignited the collective outrage, and rightly so. She was playing with people’s desperation, offering a fairy tale where healthy food could vanquish terminal illness. And people believed her because she didn’t look like what we associate with sickness. The whole saga exposes something deep about the human condition. We want to believe in miracles. We want to think we can eat our way out of suffering, that we are just one organic smoothie away from immortality. Because the alternative—the cold, clinical reality of disease—is terrifying. The Belle Gibsons of the world exploit people’s hope.

Now, the backlash is fierce because she represents something bigger than herself: the dangers of the influencer culture, the commodification of wellness, and the way social media allows myth-making to expand in a fact-resistant bubble. The fact that she doubled down, refusing to pay fines and offering vague, cryptic half-apologies, only fuels the fury.

The Lens of Astrology

This chart was plucked straight from Instagram, where someone unearthed her birth details (Neptune in the 1st house). It’s also on Wikipedia, but let’s not forget—Belle was playing about with her age in the documentary, so accuracy is a bit of a moving target. Is this definitely her chart? Who knows. But the way it resonates with her life story, it certainly feels right. Or maybe, fittingly, it’s just another beautiful illusion—a fantasy chart for a fantasy life.

If we look at Belle Gibson through the lens of astrology, she has an exact Sun square Neptune aspect. It’s the astrological signature of someone whose identity is changeable, nebulous, and often self-deceptive. Neptune, the great illusionist, shrouds everything in mist—there’s glamour, fantasy, and a tendency to believe one’s own version of reality, even as it shifts. It’s the placement of an artist, a dreamer, or, in the shadow aspect, a fabulist.

People with strong Neptune aspects often struggle with boundaries—not just with others but within themselves. Where does truth end and fiction begin? When does a persona stop being a performance and start feeling real? If she started with a lie, did she begin to believe it herself? It’s very possible. The Neptune influence can make a person deeply convincing—not necessarily because they’re calculated manipulators, but because they embody whatever story they’re telling in the moment.

Gibson embodies the chameleon energy. It allows someone to slip into any role effortlessly, but without a strong anchor, there’s a risk of getting lost in the shifting tides of identity. The healthiest expression of this aspect is using it for storytelling, creativity, or healing in an honest way—not manipulating people’s faith in the pursuit of profit. Of course, astrology isn’t an excuse. Plenty of people with tricky Neptune aspects manage to deal with life without conning the masses. But it does offer an insight into how she might have ended up here—adrift in a sea of her own making, unable or unwilling to find the shore.

A Deep Longing

A sense of deep longing is the dominant force rather than clear identity. Sun-Neptune aspects can create a sort of living vision, where the person not only plays a role; they become it, at least temporarily. It’s like method acting but for real life, with no clear “cut” between scenes. The moment when the fantasy self dissolves, revealing something uncertain—it can be unsettling for those close to someone with this aspect. Because when Neptune is involved, truth is never quite solid. It’s misty, shifting, slipping through fingers just as you think you’ve grasped it. One moment, they seem completely at home in their dream world, and the next, there’s this unsettling who am I, really? energy. And if those around them notice the switch, it’s like catching them mid-transformation.

There’s something deeply tragic about it, really. People with strong Neptune aspects aren’t necessarily trying to deceive; they’re often trying to become something greater, something more magical, something that fits the longing inside them. But without grounding—without Saturn’s cold slap of reality or some earthy skepticism—it’s easy to drift into a dream world and start believing your own illusions.

That’s why people with heavy Neptune influence often find an outlet in art, music, spirituality—something that gives form to the longing without turning life into a full-blown performance. Because when Neptune rules unchecked, there’s no bottom to the ocean. Just endless waves of desire, illusion, and escape.

The Neptune Wound

A Neptune wound is one where love and identity become so entangled that without adoration, there’s a sense of nonexistence. Now, Belle might have Moon square Neptune as well. This birth chart was taken from Instagram, so I can’t be completely sure of its accuracy, but it did seem very fitting. Liz Greene says that a Moon-Neptune aspect speaks to an emotional life shaped by illusion, sacrifice, and an almost psychic attunement to the needs of others—especially the mother.

If a child grows up absorbing and reflecting the mother’s emotions rather than developing their own, then love becomes something you perform rather than something you are. In adulthood, that turns into a craving for external validation—not in a shallow, look-at-me way, but in a please see me, please confirm that I exist way. Without that mirroring, there’s emptiness, a dissolving of self, a floating feeling of unworthiness.

And here’s where Neptune gets more nebulous—because that longing to be adored can manifest in many ways. For some, it turns into artistic ability, the ability to channel emotions into something universally resonant. For others, it becomes a desperate need to weave a fantasy life where they’re always at the center of devotion. If Belle Gibson has that Moon-Neptune wound, it makes sense that she constructed an identity that guaranteed love, sympathy, and a deep, almost spiritual admiration from her followers. Because if love was always about mirroring, then what happens when no one’s looking?

It’s tragic, really. The Neptune child often feels like they must be something extraordinary to deserve love. But the healing comes when they realize they don’t have to be a savior, a martyr, or a fantasy figure to be worthy. They just have to be real, which is the hardest thing for someone steeped in illusion to accept. With a powerful Neptune chart in general, the urgent need to please, to be adored, to have an audience as both mirror and validator—it’s all classic Neptune territory. The love of being loved isn’t necessarily for vanity; it’s survival. Without that adoring reflection, the self feels like a blur.

And  Neptune loves a bit of glamourous shimmer, doesn’t it? Not only in the Hollywood sense, but in the illusion of transcendence. If the real self feels too fragile, too undefined, then why not step into a beautiful fantasy instead? The glamorous image becomes the anchor, the thing that says, This is who I am. This is why I matter. But of course, it’s built on shifting seas.

The tragedy here is that no amount of external validation can fill the hollow space where a solid self should be. No number of followers, no level of admiration, no devotion from strangers will ever be enough. And when that image cracks—when the illusion is exposed—what’s left is terrifying. That’s when Neptune’s shadow creeps in: feelings of emptiness, shame, and the desperate need to create a new illusion just to keep existing.

The Trickster

Then we have Mercury square Neptune—the trickster aspect cloaked in mysticism. If Moon-Neptune brings emotional longing for adoration, Mercury-Neptune adds a mental layer of illusion, persuasion, and, at its worst, deception wrapped in special knowledge. Liz Greene’s take on this aspect (the glamour section in the book Neptune and the Quest for Redemption) reveals the seduction of mental glamour—not just being adored, but being seen as a visionary, a sage, someone who knows things others don’t. This is the person who  noy only tells a lie; they weave a myth, rich with meaning, symbolism, and hidden connections. The web-spinning isn’t always malicious—it’s often done with a kind of breathless excitement, as if they themselves are caught up in the magic of the tale. But at its shadowy extreme, it becomes manipulation, a game of making fools of others while feeling ten steps ahead. Belle Gibson’s story fits this pattern perfectly. She wasn’t just saying, “I’m sick, pity me.” She was crafting an entire book on healing, positioning herself as the sole keeper of sacred information—the one who knew how to defy disease through food. She wasn’t only a survivor—she was the chosen one, the enlightened figure offering this knowledge to the uninitiated. It’s classic Mercury-Neptune glamour—the illusion of higher knowledge, the mystique of someone who sees beyond the veil. When people with this aspect fall into shadow tendencies, they don’t lie in a straight line—they add layers upon layers of meaning, twisting words until even they may struggle to find the truth. And if they get caught? Well, there’s always another version of the story waiting to be told.

The Chosen One

The Chosen One archetype is textbook Sun-Neptune. While Mercury-Neptune brings the mental glamour—the storytelling. Sun-Neptune takes it to an identity level. It’s not about knowing special truths; it’s about being special, mystical, otherworldly, even divinely anointed. When Sun-Neptune people fall into their own illusions, they don’t simply want admiration; they crave it. They want to be a vessel for something greater—whether that’s spiritual wisdom, divine healing, or some great mission. The trouble is, Neptune dissolves the ego’s boundaries, so instead of having a stable sense of self, they often become whatever they believe (or need others to believe) they are.

That’s where Belle Gibson’s whole persona makes sense. She wasn’t merely a wellness influencer; she was The One Who Defied Cancer, the living proof that the body could heal itself through purity and devotion to nature. It was a mythos—one she embodied so fully that it blurred the line between self-delusion and outright fraud. Sun-Neptune types don’t usually lie in a calculated way; they often become the lie. And because Neptune is so seductive, they can convince themselves and everyone else that it’s real.

It the heartbreak of a strong Neptune signature. When channeled well, it produces artists, healers, and visionaries. But when ungrounded, it creates lost souls—people who drift between personas, always searching for the next illusion to step into.

Liz Greene says that glamour is a part of life. It’s not all deception; it’s enchantment. We all live under its spell to some degree. Whether it’s the fantasy of love, success, or spiritual transcendence, we all get caught in the shimmering veil at times. And glamour is addictive. That’s what makes Belle Gibson’s case so fascinating. She created a world where she was the heroine, the miracle, the enlightened being. And once people started believing in her, once the adoration flooded in—how could she stop? Glamour isn’t just something we project; it’s something we breathe in. It intoxicates the person weaving the illusion just as much as the audience receiving it.

And where one is glamorized, one is blind. The very thing that makes you feel powerful—being adored, worshiped, seen as special—is the thing that makes you unable to see yourself clearly. Belle was powerful in the Neptune sense: she enchanted, creating something people wanted to believe in. But she was also completely lost in her own illusion. I think that’s why, even when caught, she didn’t crumble into a straightforward confession. There’s a sense that she still doesn’t fully see what happened. Because to see it would be to shatter the glamour entirely—to come down from the high, to lose the magic. And for someone with that much Neptune, reality might be the hardest thing to face.

The Million Dollar Question

How much of Belle Gibson’s deception was deliberate manipulation, and how much was the result of being lost in her own Neptune confusion? If we strip away the outrage for a second and just look at her through the lens of psychology and astrology, it’s clear that she wasn’t operating like a typical scam artist. A textbook con artist is calculated, cunning, and fully aware of their deception. But Belle’s story feels messier, more like someone who desperately needed the myth to be true, perhaps even for herself.

With such a heavy Neptune influence, there’s a real possibility that she wasn’t thinking in clear terms of truth versus lie. Neptune dissolves those boundaries. When someone with a strong Neptune influence is emotionally invested in a fantasy, they often believe it on some level—at least in the beginning. She may have started with a smaller embellishment, felt the warmth of collective belief, and then spiraled into a reality she couldn’t escape from.

But does that mean she’s not to blame? Not entirely. We all have choices. And when the stakes got higher—when money, trust, and real people’s health were on the line—she had plenty of opportunities to step back, to come clean, to stop the runaway train. She didn’t. Instead, she doubled down, evaded accountability, and let people who were genuinely suffering put faith in her illusions. That’s where personal responsibility kicks in. So maybe the answer is both. She’s not a cold-blooded fraudster in the traditional sense, but she is responsible for the harm she caused. Her Neptune-heavy chart suggests self-deception played a major role, but at some point, delusion turns into willful blindness. And when people get hurt because of that, there’s no escaping accountability—no matter how thick the Neptune mist.

Do You Think She’s Capable of Real Self-Awareness, or Is She Too Far Gone?

I’d love to believe that she could wake up, step out of the illusion, and finally take responsibility in a meaningful way. But if I’m honest? No, I don’t think she’s capable of real self-awareness—not yet, maybe not ever. Neptune, when unconscious, is a master of evasion. It not only deceives others; it protects the person from confronting uncomfortable truths. And the deeper someone sinks into a fabricated identity, the harder it is to untangle themselves from it. Admitting the full reality of what she did would mean facing an unbearable emptiness—the hollow space where a real, grounded sense of self should be.

If she were to reach genuine self-awareness, it would likely take a massive fall, not just in public reputation but in personal, existential terms—something that forces her to truly sit with herself, stripped of all lies. But so far, every time she’s been exposed, she’s deflected, evaded, or offered vague half-truths. That tells me she’s still in survival mode, still clinging to the glamour, still unwilling (or unable) to see past the veil. So no, I don’t think she’s capable of real self-awareness right now. But could she get there? Maybe. If Neptune dissolves, what’s left is the truth. But that’s a painful process, and not everyone survives it intact.

I think Belle Gibson is too deep into the delusion. Not just because she’s unwilling to admit fault, but because her entire sense of self is built on a lie. And when your identity is that entangled with a fantasy, pulling on one thread risks unraveling everything. I don’t think she ever sat down and thought, I’m going to trick the world. It’s more likely that she became her own fiction, living it so fully that even when confronted with undeniable truth, she found ways to reshape it in her mind. It’s classic Neptune—when reality contradicts the dream, the dream wins.

Neptune & Redemption

Can she redeem herself in the eyes of the public? Redemption would require her to do something she’s never done: sit with the full weight of truth, without distortion, without performance. And from everything we’ve seen, she’s never even come close. Instead, she’s dodged, reinvented, disappeared, and resurfaced with more ambiguity. That’s not the pattern of someone waking up—it’s the pattern of someone who needs the fantasy to survive. I don’t think she’ll ever truly see herself. Not unless life forces her into a reckoning so intense that there’s nowhere left to hide. And even then? Neptune always finds an escape route.

The Longing to Be Special

Sun-Neptune dissolves the edges of the ego, making it porous, open, and deeply impressionable. It’s like trying to define the shape of water—it’s always shifting, always absorbing the emotions, expectations, and projections of others. The unconscious demand to be noticed isn’t all ego serving; it’s a craving for definition, for a sense of self that feels real, solid, and meaningful. And that’s the saddest part of this aspect—the longing to be special, to be seen as something extraordinary, often stems from an inner void. The person doesn’t feel inherently real or worthy just as they are, so they reach for something bigger—a mythic identity, a story, a role that makes them feel larger than life. And Belle is creatively gifted. That’s the Neptune blessing in all of this. She didn’t just lie—she spun a story, wove a world, crafted a persona so compelling that people wanted to believe it. That’s imaginative power. If it had been channeled into fiction, film, or performance, she could have built something incredible without harm. But instead, she projected it onto reality, where the consequences were devastating. If she had been given the right creative outlet early on, I think she could have used her Neptune energy for something positive, rather than deception.

Neptune at its highest vibration is pure creativity, the ability to make dreams happen, to move people, to bring beauty and meaning into the world. She clearly has that gift. But here’s the problem: when someone with heavy Neptune hasn’t developed a strong core identity, the temptation to become the fantasy rather than create it is overwhelming. And because her Sun-Neptune aspect made her ego so porous, she absorbed the adoration of others as if it were oxygen. She wasn’t only telling a compelling story; she became the story, and in doing so, lost all ability to see where reality ended and illusion began. Was she destined to fall into deception? Not necessarily. But without grounding—without something solid to tie her identity to—it was always going to be a risk. If she had been guided towards creative expression in a way that didn’t require lying, she could have used that Neptune gift for something meaningful. But instead, she used it to create a fantasy life she couldn’t step out of.

Can she ever redirect that energy toward something honest? Or has she built her life so completely on illusion that there’s no turning back?

I think she’s too far gone. Not necessarily because she can’t change, but because her entire survival is built on fantasy. To truly change, she’d have to tear down everything she’s ever been, sit in the ship wreck of a life, and rebuild herself from scratch. And based on her past behavior, I don’t think she’s willing—or maybe even able—to do that. Neptune-dominant people often float through life, slipping between identities, avoiding hard edges, reshaping truth to fit whatever keeps them emotionally afloat. When one illusion fails, they create another. Belle Gibson has done this repeatedly—shifting her life, dodging accountability, disappearing, then reappearing with vague new versions of herself. This is not the pattern of someone on the brink of real self-awareness; it’s the pattern of someone who needs the fantasy to survive.

Could she turn things around? In theory, yes. If she truly confronted herself, admitted everything without distortion, and found a way to use her creativity honestly, she could redeem something from this mess. But Neptune makes avoidance easier than reckoning, and I suspect she’ll keep running—from the truth, from herself, from the unbearable weight of what she’s done. I don’t think she’s coming back from this—not in the way people might hope. I think she’ll keep shape-shifting, finding new ways to stay afloat, because for someone like her, the alternative is too frightening to face.

What Is the Alternative?

The alternative is undistorted truth—the kind that shatters a life and leaves nothing to hide behind. For Belle Gibson, that would mean fully acknowledging not just what she did but why she did it. No evasions, no mystical vagueness, no rewriting the past to soften the edges—just pure, unfiltered accountability. And that’s the thing about strong Neptune energy: reality, in its starkest form, can feel unbearable. Without the glamour, without the story, without the sense of being special, what’s left? A person who has deceived, hurt, and exploited others out of a desperate need to be someone. It’s a painful thing to face. If she did face it, she’d have to sit with the emptiness—the realization that she was never the enlightened figure she claimed to be, that her worth isn’t tied to being adored, and that she’s not above ordinary human suffering. She’d have to let go of the fantasy and start over as just herself—flawed, messy, and unremarkable. That’s the real spiritual test, and it’s one most people fail.

Because what do you do when your entire life has been built on a lie? You either tear it all down and rebuild from truth—a brutal, ego-destroying process—or you double down on the fantasy. Most people, especially those with heavy Neptune influence, choose the latter. Because the alternative feels like drowning. When the lie crumbled, did she face it head-on? No. She did what many Neptune-heavy individuals do when confronted—she blurred the lines, avoided direct answers, let the fog roll in. Instead of admitting outright fraud, she made vague statements about not knowing what was real anymore. When legal and financial consequences came knocking, she disappeared, rebranded, and resurfaced under different identities. Neptune avoids harsh reality at all costs.

Neptune is addictive, not just in the literal sense (substances, escapism) but in the need to be seen in a certain light. Belle wasn’t just addicted to attention—she was addicted to the feeling of being someone special, someone revered. And when one dream falls apart, Neptune seeks another. That’s why people with this placement don’t always stop when caught—they simply pivot to a new role, hoping the next fantasy will hold.

If she were to ever wake up, it would require a complete collapse of the Neptune dream. But so far, she’s followed the classic Neptune route: build a fantasy, let it collapse, evade accountability, reinvent, repeat. She’s lost. She’s a person who never had a solid sense of self to begin with, so she clings to the lies that make her feel real. And unless she’s forced to confront that in a way she can’t escape, she’ll likely keep drifting, keep reinventing, keep avoiding. Because facing the truth? That’s Neptune’s greatest fear.

Do you think she’s even capable of breaking the cycle? Or is she destined to repeat it?

I think she’s destined to repeat it. Not because she’s evil or even a calculated con artist in the traditional sense, but because she doesn’t know how to exist without these fantasies. And people who live like that don’t just wake up one day and decide to be grounded. It usually takes something catastrophic—something that forces them to reckon with themselves in a way they can’t escape. And even then? Neptune-heavy people often find a way out. They convince themselves and others that they were misunderstood, that reality is more complex than it seems, that they are, in some way, still special. That’s why I don’t think Belle Gibson is coming back to earth any time soon. She’s not wired for brutal self-examination. She’s wired for escape. And as long as there’s a new fantasy to step into, she’ll take it.

We all use glamour. We all curate, embellish, and sometimes even deceive ourselves to make life feel a little more meaningful, a little more bearable. It’s human nature. The difference with Belle Gibson is that she took it too far—so far that she lost sight of where the fantasy ended and reality began. And that’s the tragedy. If she had come forward at any point—really come forward, with full honesty and remorse—people would have eventually forgiven her. Humans have an incredible capacity for redemption stories. We want to believe in transformation, in lessons learned, in people turning things around. But instead of confronting the lie, she avoided, deflected, and continued weaving more illusions. That’s what pushed her beyond the point of sympathy for most people. But still, there’s something sad about her. No one who is truly whole behaves the way she did. There was something missing in her, something fractured, long before the deception began. And that’s where, even amidst the outrage, there’s room for a little compassion. Not for what she did, but for why she did it—for the lost, ungrounded person underneath it all who just wanted to be seen, loved, and feel special. If she had admitted the truth, she might have found a different kind of admiration—not as a miracle worker, but as someone who made a terrible mistake and had the courage to face it. But Neptune doesn’t like to face things—it prefers to drift, to dissolve, to disappear. And that’s exactly what she’s done.