So, the Five of Swords, huh? That card always makes me stop and think, because it’s not really about some grand, epic battle. Nah, for me, it’s always been about those smaller, nastier fights, the ones that leave a bitter taste in your mouth even if you somehow ‘won’. It’s that feeling where you got your way, but you look around and everything just feels… broken.
I remember this one situation, back when I was younger and a lot more hot-headed. We were working on a big project, a whole team of us. My part of it was crucial, I thought, and I had this idea, see? A really specific way I wanted to handle a certain section. I had it all mapped out in my head, felt like it was the only logical path forward.
Then, this other guy on the team, let’s call him Mike, he brought up his own approach. It was different, pretty much the opposite of what I was proposing. And man, I just couldn’t see it his way. Not at all. I started arguing, really laying into why my idea was superior, why his wouldn’t work, pulling up data, pointing out flaws, talking over him, you name it. I was so convinced I was right, I just dug my heels in.
We went back and forth for days, not just in meetings but even outside of them. It got tense. Others on the team tried to mediate, tried to find a middle ground, but I wasn’t having any of it. My blood was up. I felt like I had to win this specific point, that the whole project depended on my vision. I pushed hard, kept badgering, even brought in some senior folks to back me up, framing it as a matter of best practice. I wasn’t thinking about collaboration; I was thinking about conquering.
Eventually, yeah, I won. My idea, my approach, it got signed off. Mike’s was rejected. When the decision came down, I felt this tiny little surge of something, like a rush. “See?” I thought. “I was right all along.”
But that feeling, that little bit of triumph, it evaporated pretty quick. Faster than I thought it would. I looked over at Mike after the meeting. His face, man, it just looked… resigned, maybe a little hurt. And the rest of the team? They were quiet. Nobody was congratulating me, nobody was saying “good job.” The air in the room, it felt heavy, almost hostile.
Things never quite went back to normal after that. Mike became really withdrawn. He did his work, sure, but he stopped offering suggestions, stopped joking around. He wouldn’t even really look me in the eye much. And the others, they seemed to keep a distance too. It was like I’d gotten my victory, but I’d also alienated pretty much everyone. The communication flow, which had been so good before, just died. Everything became more formal, more guarded.
I started noticing how much harder it was to get things done, even with my “winning” approach implemented. People weren’t enthusiastic, they weren’t pitching in extra ideas. It all became just… work. Just tasks to be completed. The energy, the camaraderie, it was just gone. And it was my fault. I had gone in for the kill, and in doing so, I had killed the spirit of the team.
That’s when it really hit me, this feeling like the Five of Swords. You stand there, maybe with a few swords in your hand, feeling like you’ve conquered, but everyone else has walked away, or they’re just beaten down. What was the point of winning the argument if I lost the trust, the goodwill, the collaborative spirit that actually made the work enjoyable and effective?
That whole experience stuck with me, really stuck with me. It taught me a real hard lesson about what winning actually means. Sometimes, you can win the battle but lose the war, especially when the war is about relationships, about working together, about keeping folks on your side. It’s not always about being “right.” Sometimes, being right costs you way too much.
Now, whenever I face a strong disagreement, I stop myself. I try to really listen. I try to understand the other person’s perspective, even if I still think mine is better. I look for common ground, for a way we can both walk away feeling heard, feeling like we contributed. Because a hollow victory, man, there’s nothing more draining, nothing more isolating, than that. It’s a powerful reminder that sometimes, the true win is actually in finding a way to not have to fight so hard at all.
