You know, for a good chunk of my life, I always leaned on my gut feeling. That’s just how I operated. Logic was there, sure, but it usually came second to what felt right in my bones. Then, a few years back, things got real messy. I was in a situation, a big one actually, where my usual go-to ‘heart over head’ approach was just, well, failing me big time.
I was dealing with a business partnership that had gone south. We started out with so much enthusiasm, handshakes and dreams, you know? But somewhere along the line, the numbers stopped adding up, and the communication just completely fell apart. I was trying everything to make it work – being understanding, being patient, trying to smooth things over. It was draining me, mentally and financially. I was losing sleep, constantly mulling over every word, every text, trying to find a way to fix it without hurting anyone’s feelings, especially my own.
One evening, feeling totally wrecked, I pulled out my old deck. I wasn’t even thinking about what card I wanted, just needed some kind of a sign. And there it was, staring right back at me: The King of Swords.
Man, when I saw that card, my first thought was, “Oh great, another stern old dude telling me to get my act together.” He looked so rigid, so… unsympathetic. All about truth, logic, cutting through the BS. And honestly, I felt like he was just judging me for being so wishy-washy. My initial read was, “This guy is bad news. He’s going to tell me to do something harsh, something I don’t want to do.” I put the card back, feeling even more lost than before.
But that image, that feeling of sharp, cold logic, it stuck with me. Like a burr under the saddle. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later, when the situation with my partner reached a boiling point, that it started to click. We had a huge argument, and for the first time, I didn’t try to sugarcoat anything. I just laid out the facts, what was happening with the money, the missed deadlines, the broken promises. And it was ugly, real ugly.
After that blow-up, I felt terrible. My gut was telling me I’d ruined everything. But then, a strange thing happened. The air cleared. It was like finally lancing a boil. All that festering tension, all the unspoken resentment, it was out in the open. And for the first time in months, I could think straight. I could see the path forward, not just hope for one.
That’s when the King of Swords started making sense. He wasn’t about being mean or cruel for the sake of it. He was about clarity. About slicing through the emotional fog to get to the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it was. It was about making a decision based on what was real and practical, not just what I wished it could be.
I realized I had to make some really tough calls. I had to let go of the emotional attachment to the partnership and look at it purely from a business standpoint. It meant formally dissolving things, taking some financial losses, and moving on. And yeah, it hurt like hell. There were days I felt like I was betraying my old self, the one who always tried to be the peacemaker, the fixer.
But every time I felt that pull to backtrack, to try and soften the blow, that King of Swords image popped into my head. It was like he was silently daring me: “Are you going to keep fooling yourself, or are you going to deal with reality?”
So, I started to embody that energy. I hired a lawyer, which I had been avoiding for ages because it felt too aggressive. I meticulously gathered all the paperwork, something I used to delegate and skim over. I walked into meetings with a clear head, stating my points, not trying to win a popularity contest, but to resolve the matter fairly and cleanly. I stopped trying to read between the lines or find hidden meanings in my ex-partner’s evasions. I just focused on the direct, verifiable facts.
Was it easy? Absolutely not. Was it “bad” for me? In the moment, it felt like ripping off a band-aid. But the outcome was freedom. It was financial clarity. It was peace of mind. I got my sleep back. I got my focus back. I got me back, but a stronger, wiser version of me who understood that sometimes, you have to be the one to wield the sword.
The King of Swords, for me, isn’t about being a jerk. He’s about precise thinking, rational judgment, and the courage to make hard decisions when they’re necessary, even when they’re unpopular. He taught me that sometimes, the kindest thing you can do for yourself, and even for others, is to be brutally honest and clear. He’s the one who tells you to cut your losses, to set boundaries, to speak your truth without apology. And for that, in that messy time of my life, he was exactly what I needed. He wasn’t bad for me at all; he was tough love, and eventually, he was my salvation.
