Man, sometimes life just absolutely punches you in the gut, right? Like, a real wind-knocking, breath-stealing hit. For me, that feeling got mirrored perfectly when I pulled the 10 of Swords card. And let me tell ya, when that sucker showed up in my spread, it wasn’t just a reading; it was a snapshot of my entire damn life at that moment. Everything felt over, totally annihilated.
I remember it clear as day. I was neck-deep in a project, a huge one, something I’d poured years of my life into. I’m talking blood, sweat, and literal tears. I had this vision, this dream, and I was so sure it was going to be the thing. Then, bam! Out of nowhere, it all came crashing down. Not slowly, not a gradual decline, but a complete, abrupt, and utterly brutal end. The funding got pulled, the main client walked, and the team I’d built disbanded almost overnight. It felt like ten actual swords had been driven straight into my back, pinning me to the ground, utterly helpless.
For weeks, I was a zombie. I couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t look at my computer, couldn’t even stand the thought of talking about it. Every single thing I’d worked for, every late night, every skipped meal, it all felt like a giant waste. I kept replaying conversations, trying to figure out where I messed up, what I could’ve done differently. The self-blame was a monster, gnawing at me. My mind was just a loop of “it’s over, it’s really over, what now?”
I remember one morning, staring at my reflection, looking like I’d aged ten years in as many days. I looked like hell. That’s when the card popped into my head. The 10 of Swords. Rock bottom. Utter defeat. And in that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t some grand epiphany, more like a dull, painful acceptance. Yeah, it was over. Yeah, it hurt like a son of a gun. But I was still breathing, still standing (barely, but standing). And the card… it also meant that once you’re at the absolute bottom, there’s literally nowhere else to go but up.
The Slow Grind Back Up
- First, I just laid there. Honestly, for a couple more days, I just wallowed. But it was different. It wasn’t a desperate wallow; it was more like, “Okay, I’m allowing myself to feel this crap for a bit, then I gotta move.” I gave myself permission to mourn.
- Then, I forced myself to clean my space. My apartment was a disaster, just like my head. I started with my desk, then my room. It was slow, tedious work, but each thing I put away, each piece of trash I threw out, felt like I was clearing a tiny bit of the mental clutter too.
- I reached out. This was hard. I’m not great at asking for help. But I called an old buddy, someone who’d been through their own career hell. I didn’t even ask for advice, just blurted out everything. And just having someone listen, without judgment, was a relief.
- I made a list of “what-ifs.” Not “what if I hadn’t done X,” but “what if I tried Y now?” I wrote down ridiculous ideas, tiny ideas, crazy ideas. Most were garbage, but it got my brain ticking again, away from the past and towards some kind of future.
- I picked up a new skill. Not related to my old project at all. I decided I wanted to learn how to do some basic woodworking. Bought some cheap tools, watched a bunch of videos. It was something totally different, a way to use my hands, see tangible results. No pressure, just learning. It gave my brain a much-needed break from the heavy stuff.
- I started networking again, carefully. Not looking for a job right away, just connecting with people. Grabbing coffee, having casual chats. It was a way to remind myself there was a world beyond my failed venture, a world where people were still doing cool things and where I might still fit in.
- I faced the paperwork. This was the final, painful step. Tying up all the loose ends of the old project. Closing accounts, sending final emails, gathering documents. It felt like burying a loved one, but with each completed task, another sword felt like it was being removed from my back.
The whole process wasn’t smooth sailing, not by a long shot. There were days I slipped back into that despair, days I just wanted to quit everything. But each time, I remembered that damn 10 of Swords. It wasn’t the end of me, it was just the end of that. And that’s a huge difference.
What I learned? That the 10 of Swords isn’t just about total defeat; it’s also about hitting a necessary bottom so you can finally shed what doesn’t serve you anymore. It’s about clearing the deck, even if it feels like your whole ship just sank. Sometimes, you gotta lose everything to figure out what you truly want to build next, and more importantly, who you want to be when you build it. It hurt like hell, but it forced me to find a strength I didn’t even know I had.
