You know, some cards, they just stick with you. Not because they’re fancy or dramatic, but because they hit you hard, right where you live. For me, one of those was the Nine of Diamonds, especially when it shows up upside down. Man, that one has taught me a few tough lessons.
I remember when I first started messing with tarot, years back. I had the little book that came with the deck, read the upright meanings, felt good about them. The Nine of Diamonds upright? All about achieving something, feeling secure, enjoying your efforts. Made sense. But reversed? The book just threw out words like “loss,” “delay,” “stinginess.” And honestly, I didn’t really get it. Like, what even is a “delay of gratification” really like, in real life, when you’re just looking at a few pretty pictures?
Then life, as it always does, decided to give me a firsthand tutorial. This was a while back, maybe five, six years ago. I’d sunk a ton of effort, a massive amount of my own time, and even a bit of my savings into this side project. It was something I was passionate about, something I really believed in. I was building a custom little online store, nothing huge, just for some handmade stuff my wife and I were making. I spent every evening, every weekend, for months. I taught myself some basic coding, messed around with design, ordered supplies, researched shipping. I was burning the candle at both ends, thinking, “This is it, this is going to be our little nest egg.”
I launched it, finally. And then… crickets. Or worse than crickets. We had a couple of sales, sure, but the overhead of maintaining the site, the costs of materials, the time spent? It was just eating into everything. Every month, I’d look at the numbers, and it was barely breaking even, sometimes even losing money. I was working harder than ever, putting in more hours trying to fix things, market better, tweak the products, but the return was just… not there. It felt like all that effort, all those late nights, all that hopeful energy, was just draining away into a big, black hole.
It wasn’t just the money, though that stung plenty. It was the feeling of completely wasted effort. Like I’d poured my soul into something, and it just evaporated. I felt deprived, like I’d earned a win, a little bit of success, some recognition for the sheer grind, and instead, I got a big fat nothing. I was getting pretty tight-fisted with my time and attention after that, too, because I felt so burned. I’d look at new ideas, and my first thought was always, “Is this just another money pit? Another time sink?” That generosity I had for my own projects, that open-handed approach, it just vanished.
One evening, I was doing a self-reading, just pulling a few cards to see what was up with my mood. And out popped the Nine of Diamonds. Reversed. I just stared at it. And then, it just clicked. The book’s vague words suddenly made perfect, painful sense.
This wasn’t just “loss.” It was the specific kind of loss that comes after you’ve worked your butt off, invested your own precious resources, and then watch it all amount to less than you put in. It was the feeling of being short-changed, not by some external force, but by the very thing you invested in. It was the stinginess that can creep in after you’ve given so much and received so little, making you guard your resources, your time, your very energy, with an almost desperate grip.
From then on, when I saw that card reversed for myself or for a friend, I knew what to look for. It wasn’t just a bad financial forecast. It was deeper. It usually pointed to a situation where:
- Effort was being squandered. Someone was pouring their energy into something that just wasn’t yielding fruit, or perhaps was even draining them.
- A sense of deprivation. They felt like they weren’t getting their due, or that something they had rightfully earned was being withheld or taken away.
- Hesitation to spend or invest. A reluctance to put in more money, time, or energy, often because previous attempts had been disappointing.
- Maybe even a touch of miserliness. Holding onto resources too tightly, perhaps out of fear of further loss, which ironically can prevent new opportunities from blossoming.
I remember a buddy of mine, he was agonizing over selling an old car. He’d spent a fortune fixing it up, polishing it, making it perfect. But the market just wasn’t there for that model, not at the price he wanted. He kept holding out, refusing lower offers, even though the car was just sitting, depreciating, costing him insurance. He pulled the Nine of Diamonds reversed. It wasn’t about the car’s value, it was about his inability to let go of the perceived value he’d put into it, the expectation of a certain return for his effort, and it was holding him back from just cutting his losses and moving on. He was clinging to the past effort, unable to release it and free up his mental and financial space.
It’s funny how a little picture on a card can show you such a clear mirror. That reversed Nine of Diamonds isn’t just about losing money; it’s about the soul-sucking feeling of wasted potential, of watching your hard work dissolve, and the caution, sometimes even bitterness, that can follow. It taught me that sometimes, you just have to recognize when an investment—be it time, money, or emotional energy—isn’t going to pay off, and know when to cut your losses, no matter how much you’ve poured into it. Otherwise, you just keep draining yourself dry.
Sometimes, the biggest payout isn’t monetary; it’s learning a hard lesson and moving on.
