Man, I gotta tell ya, there have been times, not too long ago, when I just felt completely spent. Like, utterly, totally wiped out. You know those moments when you’ve fought and fought, and you’re bruised and battered, and you just wonder if there’s even one more ounce of fight left in you? Yeah, I was living in that space for a while. Everything felt like an uphill battle, and every day was just another slugfest. I was close to just throwing in the towel on a few things that really mattered to me.
I’d been dabbling with tarot cards for a bit, not really seriously, just something to mess around with, kinda like a curiosity. But when things got really rough, I found myself pulling them out more and more. I wasn’t looking for magic answers, more like just… anything to focus on, anything to maybe shift my perspective. I wasn’t really believing in it, if that makes sense, just going through the motions to keep my mind busy.
And then, it happened. Not once, not twice, but what felt like a dozen times, that darn Nine of Wands card kept popping up. Every spread, every time I’d shuffle and draw, there it was. At first, I just rolled my eyes. “Oh, this again,” I’d think. But after a while, it started to get under my skin. Like it was trying to tell me something specific, personally, and I just wasn’t getting it. I felt its eyes on me, if that makes sense, always staring from the table.
So, I stopped just looking at the damn thing and started really looking. You know the one, right? The guy, leaning on a wand, all bandaged up, looking a bit weary, but still standing. And behind him, this wall of eight other wands, like he’s defended his spot, or he’s got all his resources lined up. I’d read the basic stuff – “perseverance,” “resilience,” “last stand,” “boundaries.” But honestly, those words just felt flat to me. They didn’t capture the exhaustion, the grit, the actual pain that felt so real in my own life.
Digging Into the Details, Personal Style
I started to just sit with the card. I’d pull it out, put it on my desk, and just stare. Then, I’d pull out my old notebook, the one with all the random thoughts and scrawls, and just start writing. No plan, just whatever came to mind.
- I looked at the guy’s face. Not defeated, but definitely worn out. I remembered all the times I felt that exact way, like my face was telling a story of too many late nights and too many headaches. I wrote down the feeling of that weariness.
- Then I looked at the bandages. Those weren’t just decorations; they were wounds. My wounds. All the setbacks, the betrayals, the times I screwed up, the times I got screwed over. Each one was a patch, a scar. I listed out the specific things that had really hurt me, the stuff I was still carrying.
- And the wand he was leaning on? It wasn’t just a prop. It was his support. What were my supports? My family, my few close friends, that stubborn little voice in my head that just wouldn’t quit. I wrote down who and what kept me from truly collapsing.
- The eight wands behind him, forming a wall. This was the big one for me. At first, I saw them as barriers, things holding me back. But then, I twisted it around. What if they weren’t just obstacles, but a fortress? The things I had already built, the battles I had already won, the wisdom I had already gained. All that tough stuff I’d been through wasn’t just pain; it was experience. It was my history, providing a damn strong foundation.
It was like I was having a conversation with the card. Not out loud, thank goodness, but in my head and on the paper. I was pulling apart its imagery and then shoving my own life right into it, seeing how the pieces fit, or didn’t fit, and figuring out what that meant.
The Light Bulb Moment
The real shift happened when I got past the “last stand” part. Yeah, it felt like a last stand. But what if it wasn’t about giving up after this last push, but realizing you had enough for one more push? That the strength was there, even if it was buried deep under all the exhaustion. The card wasn’t just showing me my current state; it was showing me my inherent resilience, even when I couldn’t feel it.
I started seeing the guy in the card not as someone on the verge of collapse, but as someone who had endured. He was still standing, dammit. He’d put up his boundaries, he’d fought his battles, and now he was catching his breath, ready for whatever came next. It wasn’t about being perfectly healed, it was about showing up, despite the wounds. It was about saying, “Yeah, I’m messed up, but I’m still in the game.”
This changed everything for me. Instead of focusing on how tired I was, I started focusing on how much I had already overcome. All those wands behind me? Those were my victories, my lessons learned, my past efforts that got me to this point. I wasn’t starting from scratch; I was standing on a mountain of experience. That changed the entire vibe. It wasn’t despair; it was a gritty determination.
Putting It Into Practice
Armed with this new perspective, I made a conscious effort to stop wallowing. When a new challenge hit, instead of sighing and thinking, “Here we go again,” I’d picture that Nine of Wands guy. I’d remind myself: I’m not new to this. I’ve dealt with tough stuff before. I’ve got a whole wall of wands, a whole history of getting through it. It didn’t make the problems disappear, but it shifted my internal feeling from dread to a quiet, stubborn resolve.
I started setting firmer boundaries in my life, just like that wall of wands. If something or someone was draining me without giving back, I began to say no. Protecting my remaining energy became a priority. It was tough, because I always used to be the “yes” person, but seeing that card standing firm really helped me visualize what I needed to do for myself.
This whole practice, just really digging into that one card, it taught me a huge lesson. It taught me that sometimes, the answers aren’t in some grand revelation, but in looking closely at what’s already in front of you, and making it personal. It’s about owning your struggle, acknowledging your scars, but then realizing that those very things are what make you strong enough to keep going. That card wasn’t just a picture; it became a mirror, showing me the fighter I didn’t even realize I still was.
