terror-tarot

[terror-tarot]

Day 3

Feelings:

Quite a bit better today. Some friends reached out, and I helped them. I gave advice and care. In healing others, we help heal ourselves. 

I called the doctor and got closer to transferring my medical history to a doctor who’s actually in the same city as me, who may be much more likely to extend my medication. I’m also flirting with the idea of going off them completely.

Reading:

Past, Present, Future

The Sun brings power, speak of vibrancy and joy; to me, about the true size of that light at the end of the tunnel, however small and ineffectual it looks now. Unlike the others, I did this reading in the evening. The past is the day that has happened, already.

The 8 of Swords warn that, rays of warmth notwithstanding, there are more feelings of being trapped ahead. Yesterday’s past will return. The fight will be long. But it’s weak, too; upside down. A promise that as desirous as death feels and tastes, there are alternatives. A promise that the traps are set but they aren’t so solid as they look.

The King of Cups is a weak man, a softie who wants only to be loved but feels helpless at the state and rage of the world. It me.

— RRS

Deck: Small Spells

[terror-tarot]

Day 2

Feelings:

This may come as a surprise considering yesterday’s dramatics, but this day was much, much worse. It was a day of wracking, guttural sobs and not much else; my only thoughts of planning my death. I know how to do it. I just have to decide not to.

Reading:

Past, Present, Future

The 8 of Swords shows a big, juicy trap. Another sword in the same spot; I think it’s clear what my recent past looks like.

The Queen of Cups begs for some tenderness, wants to heal but feels too soft.

The Act of Cups brings some necessary focus. Again, a goal: 

— RRS

Deck: Small Spells

[terror-tarot]

Day 1

Feelings:

This was my first day trying this, my first day opening this deck, in fact. I’m inspired by Jessica Dore, who I did a full reading with a few days ago, to use tarot as a function of self-care and therapy.

This day, I was in a lot of pain. The person I consider the love of my life, my partner of four years and friend of six, told me they were never interested in getting back together, in even trying. I’d held on to that hope from the time we’d separated a month earlier. It ripped open the wound I’d been holding together with nothing but my clutching hands. If you have a flair for the dramatic imagination, like  I do, then share with me this image: a fineshrine of ribs, beneath flesh and skin rising and falling with labored breaths; fingers, white and red and effortful holding the two wings together over a thin, long cut, from sternum to antrum, deeper than  you can tell it is. I could breathe because of this holding, but I couldn’t do anything else. It was working. My grasping hands were holding, I was keeping myself together. The wound would graft, it would hold on its own, soon. My hope was healing it. Then came the second knife, and I couldn’t hold anymore.

Enough of that, though. In simple terms, their email, their statement: 

I do not think finding our way back to each other in the same capacity is something that makes sense for me.

Even the language is cold. Like a knife. But I said I’d stop. Suffice to say, I was holding on to small shred of hope, to the conviction, still fused to my lower spine, that I am on this earth to love this person, and if that is so, than nothing  is insurmountable. But this is insurmountable, because love is not strong enough to survive only one person. It always needs at least two. I can’t love my way out of this one.

Context: I ran out of my SSRIs a few days ago, am currently in an ongoing fight with my medical provider to get a refill (this fight is mostly with myself, in my head, and my fear of making a single phone call).

Context: They told me some very hard truths about me, truths that are as cold as they’re being. Truths that tell me, if this love couldn’t survive this in you, what can? To speak of signs, did you know earth, when frozen, is harder than ice or earth alone? Unfortunately, I’m water. All I can do is freeze on.

Context: I was making active plans to die. But not acting.

Suffice to say; I’m gutted.

Reading:

Past, Present, Future (though as I’m doing these daily, I don’t know)

The 4 of Swords shows acupuncture, needles as swords; hard, painful 

The Lovers indicate a necessary melding.

The 3 of Wands point to a better future. But much like darts, we have to be careful of our aim.

— RRS

Deck: Small Spells