Man, when you first pull the Ten of Swords in a reading, it’s like your gut just does a somersault. I swear, the first time I saw it, I thought, “Well, that’s it. Game over, man. Game. Over.” You see this guy, right, lying face down, ten swords sticking out of his back like a porcupine. It looks brutal. Like absolute, undeniable defeat. And for a long time, that’s exactly what I took it to mean. Pure, unadulterated failure.
I started messing around with tarot a few years back, just casually at first. Picking up decks, reading a little here and there. And every time that Ten of Swords popped up, whether for me or someone else, there was this immediate tension. People would gasp. I’d cringe. It just looked bad. You couldn’t escape that image of being completely done for. I’d try to soften it, of course, tell people, “Oh, it’s just a strong ending,” but inside, I was feeling the dread too.
My Own Rock Bottom
Then life, as it often does, decided to give me a little personal demonstration. I was stuck in this job, right? For years, I had been busting my ass, trying to make things work, trying to climb that ladder. But honestly, it felt like I was just banging my head against a brick wall. Every day was a struggle, every achievement felt hollow, every setback felt like a stab. I was physically and mentally drained. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t focus, I was just utterly, completely burnt out. I felt like the guy on that card – metaphorically, of course, but damn, the feeling was real. Like everything I’d tried to build, everything I’d put my energy into, had just been systematically dismantled, leaving me flat on my face.
I remember one night, I just cracked. I sat there, staring at my computer screen, and I just knew I couldn’t do it anymore. It was an absolute, definitive surrender. No fight left in me. I literally pulled out my deck, shuffled it, and asked, “What the hell is going on with me?” And guess what? There it was. The Ten of Swords. Right there, staring back at me. And this time, instead of just the usual dread, it felt… different. It resonated in a way it never had before. It wasn’t just a bad sign; it was a mirror.
That feeling of total defeat, of utter exhaustion, that was my Ten of Swords moment. I hit rock bottom, folks. I really did. I saw it clear as day. And for a little while, I just wallowed in it. Thought about quitting everything, just packing it all in and disappearing. It felt like the end of all possibilities.
The Faint Glow on the Horizon
But then, something started to shift. Very slowly. You know how when you’re staring at something for ages, you start to notice tiny details you missed before? Well, I kept that Ten of Swords card out on my desk for days. And as I kept looking at it, I started to notice the sky. Yeah, it’s dark where the dude is, but right there, on the horizon, it’s not pitch black. There’s a faint glow. A sunrise. A new day breaking. I mean, how did I miss that for so long?
That small detail sparked something in me. It made me realize that even at rock bottom, even when it feels like everything is over, it’s not truly the end. It’s an end. The end of that particular struggle. The end of that specific cycle. And with an ending, always, always, comes the potential for a new beginning. Because once you’ve hit bottom, the only way is up, right?
- I started journaling about it, writing down every single thing I felt about that job, that situation, that total defeat.
- I began thinking about all the things I could do now that I wasn’t tied to that miserable existence.
- I pulled the card again and again, just to reinforce that visual – the dead man, yes, but also the rising sun.
- I even started looking at other “ending” cards, like Death, and comparing the energies. The Ten of Swords felt more definitive, more “I can’t go on like this,” but also, paradoxically, more freeing.
I realized that for a true new beginning to happen, sometimes you have to completely let go of the old. You have to surrender to that complete ending. You have to allow that old way of being, that old situation, to die off completely. There’s no salvaging it. No patching it up. You gotta let it go, flat out.
Embracing the Turning Point
So, I made the decision. I quit that job. It was terrifying, absolutely terrifying. But it felt like peeling off a suffocating layer. And just like that tiny sunrise on the card, new opportunities, completely unexpected ones, started to appear. Things I couldn’t even have dreamed of when I was stuck in that old grind. I started exploring different fields, teaching myself new skills, and connecting with people I would never have met otherwise. It wasn’t overnight, mind you, it was a process, a slow build from that complete collapse.
Now, when I pull the Ten of Swords, or when someone else pulls it, I don’t see doom and gloom anymore. I see a powerful message. I see the brutal honesty that sometimes, something truly has to end completely for anything new and better to come into being. It’s the ultimate signal for letting go, for putting down the burden, for accepting that this chapter is closed. It’s not about being powerless; it’s about finding the strength in surrender, and trusting that the sun will rise again, even after the darkest night. It’s a turning point, not a dead end.
