So today I decided to actually use my dusty tarot cards for something useful – figuring out why my love life feels like I’m replaying the same crappy movie. Grabbed my deck, shuffled those cards way harder than needed, like I was mad at ’em. Which, honestly, I kinda was. Felt stuck, you know?
The Pull & The Punch In The Gut
Cut the deck, slid out one card. Flipped it over. Boom. The Devil. Stared at those horns and chains like, “Seriously? Me?” Felt a hot flush creep up my neck. My first thought? “Oh crap, my ex was right. I’m the problem.” Not a comfy feeling.
Sat with that ugly card for a good ten minutes, silence thick as fog. Wasn’t seeing demons or temptation literally. Nah. It clicked: those chains? I was clipping them on myself. Every single time.
Writing Down The Messy Bits
Grabbed my beat-up notebook, started scribbling. No filter, just poured out the patterns staring back at me through that damn card:
- Ignoring Red Flags Like Stop Signs: Yeah, saw the “temper issues,” heard the mean comments disguised as “jokes.” Went ahead anyway because “potential.”
- “Saving” Them: Their chaotic life became my job to fix. Newsflash – didn’t work.
- Losing My Voice: Shrinking down opinions to avoid “rocking the boat.” Ended up feeling invisible in my own dang relationship.
- Making Excuses: “They’re stressed,” “Maybe I misunderstood…” Yeah, right. Masterclass in denial.
Seeing my own crap written down? Brutal. The Devil wasn’t some external spooky guy – it was me getting hooked on the drama, the chase, feeling needed. Addicted to feeling needed? Weird, but true. Became comfy, in a twisted way.
The Tiny Step Forward (Not A Magic Fix)
Didn’t suddenly become a love guru. Just did one thing: pressed pause. No swiping right for a few days. Nope. Instead, I looked at that scribbled list every single morning. Asked myself before any date vibe even started: “Am I slipping into this same Devil trap?” Just noticing the old pull helps. Still screw up? Oh yeah. But catching myself faster.
Turns out, the Devil card ain’t about doom. It’s a mirror. A really uncomfortable one showing your own self-made chains. Taking ‘em off? Takes practice. Lots of it. Practice feels better than being stuck, though.
