Most folks, when they pull that 10 of Swords card, their heart just sinks, right? You see those ten blades stuck in a dude’s back, lying face down, and you think, “Well, that’s it then. Game over. I’m done.” For a long time, that’s exactly how I saw it too. Just pure, unadulterated failure, a total wipeout, a complete kick in the teeth. Nobody wants to see that card.
I started messing around with Tarot years ago, mostly just for fun, pulling a card here and there, reading the little book that came with the deck. Didn’t take it too seriously at first. But then life, as it always does, decided to step in and give me a proper education.
I had this big idea a while back, a true passion project. It was going to be an online platform for local artists, a real community hub, you know? I sank everything into it. I’m talking about long nights, skipping meals, pouring every spare cent I had saved up from years of grinding away at a regular gig. I taught myself how to build a basic website, wrestled with payment gateways, even convinced a few artist friends to jump on board. I put my heart and soul into that thing, believed it was going to be a game-changer for them, for me, for everyone in our little town.
It felt so good. I remember staying up till 3 AM, tweaking designs, writing descriptions, feeling that buzz of creating something from scratch. I’d picture the launch, the artists selling their stuff, the positive feedback rolling in. It was all I talked about, all I dreamt about.
Then the bottom just fell out.
It wasn’t one big explosion, more like a slow, agonizing bleed-out. First, the payment processor I’d integrated suddenly decided my business model was “high risk” and froze my account – no explanation, just a generic email. Then, the hosting company, bless their corporate hearts, had a “critical server issue” that wiped out a good chunk of my data, including some crucial artist portfolios I hadn’t properly backed up. I tried to restore, I tried to recover, I spent days on the phone, begging, pleading, sending emails to support desks that clearly didn’t give a damn.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, one of the key artist friends I’d roped in, someone I trusted completely, suddenly pulled out. Not only that, but they went and launched their own version of the platform, taking a few other artists with them. They’d seen all my plans, all my ideas, how I structured things. It felt like being stabbed right in the back, ten times over. I was absolutely floored.
That was it. I sat there, staring at a blank screen, the website a ghost of what it was, my bank account empty, my energy completely drained. It felt like every single sword had been plunged into me. There was nothing left. No fight, no hope, no way forward. I had hit rock bottom, plain and simple. I couldn’t go any lower if I tried. I wanted to just curl up and disappear.
For weeks, I did basically nothing. Just stared at walls, walked around in a daze. I felt like a failure, completely defeated, worthless. All that effort, all that belief, just shattered into a million pieces. It was truly the end of an era for me, the end of that particular dream. And it hurt like hell.
But here’s the kicker about that card.
Because I was so utterly broken, so completely done, there was finally nowhere left to fall. When you’ve got ten swords in your back, and you’re lying face down, the only way forward is up. You can’t take another step in the same direction, because that direction is simply gone. It forces you to stop, to let go, to accept that this particular journey is over.
Slowly, painstakingly, I started to pick up the pieces. I didn’t try to revive the old platform; I just couldn’t. It felt too painful, too contaminated. Instead, I started thinking about what else I could do, what else I needed to do. Without that total collapse, I would have probably kept clinging to a sinking ship, trying to patch up holes that were too big to fix. The 10 of Swords, in a brutal, painful way, forced me to completely clear the slate.
I ended up going back to some old skills, things I’d always enjoyed but put aside for the “big project.” I started consulting, helping small businesses with their online presence, but without the massive personal investment and pressure. No big dreams of changing the world, just practical, steady work. And you know what? It started to slowly fill the void. Not immediately, not with a bang, but gradually, steadily.
So, why do I know so much about the 10 of Swords? Because I’ve been there. I’ve felt every single one of those blades. I’ve been completely undone, utterly defeated, and had to learn the hard way that sometimes, the end of everything is truly the only way to make space for a brand new beginning.
