“I hope you find peace someday.” That line landed hard, like a slap.

It doesn’t seem like it should, does it?

I mean, it wasn’t delivered as a backhanded insult like an old-school Southern ‘Bless your heart.’ That would have been trivial to dodge.

But the combination of kindness and unexpected insight–insight on a personal reaction I wasn’t clocking myself–made it intensely uncomfortable.

I support people leaving cults. I’ve spent decades deconstructing emotionally from my own exit. I can smell a guilt trip three states away, spot the chains buried in ‘loving concern,’ and untangle narcissistic tripwires with my eyes closed. I feel (and understand) this type of abuse at a visceral level.

And yeah, I absolutely get pissed when I see these dynamics in the wild. I know that ‘trust us’ playbook, intimately, and I know where it leads. I will tell myself (accurately) that I’m direct and blunt, that I am passionate about helping others break free, and that’s all true.

But the idea it doesn’t especially impact me anymore is the great lie I tell myself. The situation wasn’t personal, but my reaction to it was. And this random internet stranger, the one I was riding in to help save, saw right through my bullshit when I didn’t.

The emotional impact isn’t gone. Some scars don’t heal. But you can still find peace with scars–and that’s a damn good thing, seeing as how some scars don’t fully go away.

That’s the sort of energy I’m looking at right now.

In the Cards

Both these cards were reversed, but they photograph so much nicer upright. So in keeping with the theme. I’m going to pretend they are tidier than they actually are. Kingdom of Heaven Tarot–exactly what I was told I was walking away from.

Outlook: Hanged Man Rx

The Hanged Man Rx is you, giving away more than you realize. And you’re not just broadcasting it, you’re broadcasting something you can’t even see in yourself yet.

I wasn’t just moved to speak; I felt driven to make my point, and hard. This wasn’t subtle. It was loud. So when you feel driven to get loud, louder than the moment seems to call for, that’s your heads-up the dynamic’s in play.

Advice: Nine of Swords Rx

This card as advice is not a pat, dismissive admonition to “not worry so much.”

Let’s be real: it’s not like you can erase it. At best, you can close your eyes to it for a while.

But it’s also probably overblown. That’s mostly the point with this kind of leaky emotion we’re talking about. And that’s okay. The nightmare doesn’t have to run your life. But it might still show up on occasion.

Maybe that’s largely what peace looks like: giving yourself–and everyone else–the benefit of the doubt.

Taken Together: Slow Down

Both the urgent drive to ‘do-do-do’ we get from the Hanged Man reversed and the self-induced guilt, worry and straight-up sense of being overexposed could stand to be turned down. I mean, it’s okay if you’re already there. But that’s the aim here: turn it down.

So when I get smacked in the face with a hit of vulnerability (and worse, have it directly pointed out to me)?

Oh man, I want to go hide in a dark closet until everybody leaves before sheepishly emerging to pretend none of it ever happened.

I don’t, though.

Instead, I spend a little bit of time working through it to add that memo in with the other observations filed away in my ‘get-a-clue’ notebook. I’m not big on wasting insight. Especially the kind of insight that hits my blind spots. That’s valuable.

And that’s the same approach I’d suggest for anybody. Less self-flagellation and more deep-breath and ‘where did that come from anyway?’ You’re still going to feel exposed but you can get through it a lot faster if you don’t hop right on to a shame-spiral slide. It’s not helpful and it’s not warranted.

Try to be as kind to yourself as you would to an internet stranger. Even if it’s clumsy, it’s also healing.

Your Turn

Where are you finding your feelings extra loud? That’s the thread to unravel because it’s the one that’s hiding the raw places you’ve been protecting (even from yourself). And once you see it, what would making peace look like?

For me, it’s honoring both the wound and the good that came out of it. Both true. One doesn’t negate the other, for either of us.

Much love, friends, leaky or not. I’m rooting for peace for us all.

“Oh God. It’s worse than ever. This is beyond obvious.”

I injured my fingernails several years back. Doesn’t affect me much, except they look a little weird and I’m self-conscious about it.

I’ve wanted long, elegant nails for as long as I can remember. But mine peeled and tore, and I bit them for years. I tried the fussy DIY fakes, supplements, strengthening polish, every kit I could find, but I was never happy with the outcome. Eventually I made peace with short, painted, maybe-a-little-glittery nails and moved on.

So I was both stunned and thrilled when, for the first time ever, they started growing out long and strong (thanks, collagen!). I took my nails seriously: bought gels, learned to do a real manicure, amassed a whole collection of colors and glitter and assorted nail paraphernalia. I loved it the same way I love my blue hair — colorful, pretty, and a little hit of happy every time I noticed.

So when I started getting pain and irritation with my manicures, I didn’t want to accept the implications. Maybe the foundation had gotten contaminated. Maybe I got too much topcoat on the sides of my fingers before curing. Maybe I just needed more time between manicures. I could find endless ways to rationalize why I didn’t need to stop.

Until the last time I tried to negotiate my way into what I wanted. The reaction was much worse than ever. I finally accepted it, took off the gel polish, and weeks later my fingers are still healing. I can use regular polish, so I do. But not gonna lie: it still makes me a little sad.

Hard-headed as I am, I couldn’t avoid the message any longer. And I suspect that’s right where a lot of us are.

Have you gotten your message yet?

In the Cards

Thor the Warrior Kitten overlooks my draw from the well-worn Legacy of the Divine deck.

Outlook is the Page of Pentacles (Coins)

We’ve got the memo! The clue-train has pulled into the station. Maybe your message is about something relatively minor like my nail polish journey of self-delusion, or maybe it’s bigger. The size of the issue is less relevant than the clarity here.

But it’s important to remember the role of Tarot Pages: they aren’t only messengers. They are also seeds, potential that is being planted as we speak. It can be potential for something you want–or something you don’t. The job is to distinguish between the two.

So what does this mean in practical terms? And what are we going to do with the information we got?

Advice: Six of Pentacles (Coins) Rx

The Six of Pentacles is about the balance between giving and receiving — which way do the scales tip? Reversed, the balance has tipped: the exchange is no longer fair.

Is what you’re giving reasonable, given what it costs you? And is it sustainable?

My tradeoff for more self-confidence–the time and energy of giving myself fancy manicures–was reasonable until the price got hiked. Sometimes circumstances change. And if you refuse to reassess, it’s going to cost you.

Taken Together

My nails aren’t the biggest way this message hits me. They’re just the example that doesn’t leave me feeling naked (you know, like bare nails).

Truth is, I have a few people in my life who contribute nothing but pain. No reciprocity. No respect. No acknowledgement of how poorly they’ve treated me. And still, let ANY sorry scrap of warmth show up, no matter how self-serving, and there I am, fully in, ready for THIS time to be different.

Why? Same reason I didn’t want to toss aside the gels, I guess. I’ve become invested. It felt meaningful once. I’ve allowed myself to generate a million and one excuses for why they act the way they do. That’s the sunk cost talking, and it’s a hell of a liar.

I usually thought of myself as “being the bigger person.” It took me way too long to figure out that “being the bigger person” often means offering someone a get-out-of-abusive-behavior-free card. Especially if it’s a practice and not a one-off event.

So I’ll say to you what I’m saying in the mirror: stop denying what’s right in front of you. Quit feeding your own pain with the hope that this time will be different, if you just approach it right. It won’t.

You can’t change what anyone else does. You can’t change what you’ve become allergic to. But you can change your own choices. Make a different choice.

Your Turn

What message has finally hit home for you? And what pain are you ready to stop paying for?

Be well out there friends; I hope you join me in being mindful of how we are investing our energy. Because we are worth it.

Peace out. ~Dix

I’m tired of being afraid.

I spent a good week carefully avoiding that spam folder on my phone where the messages from blocked callers go.

“I just don’t want to deal with it now,” I said to myself.

But ‘dealing with it’ wasn’t the actual item on my mental to-do list. It was feeling it. I didn’t want to feel that old, familiar guilt and self-doubt, the gaslighting residue you get when failing to please someone’s demands makes you question whether you’re the broken one.

That was the question I was afraid of: is there something wrong with me? Not the message I could (and would) have ignored.

And I think it’s the same for anybody making a rough transition, even after they’ve done the hard part. Fear doesn’t just dissipate on demand. It stays raw for a while.

Maybe your nemesis isn’t a spam folder on your phone. Maybe yours is an email you don’t want to open, or a conversation you don’t want to have. Maybe they are all essentially the same thing in different dresses: a question you’re afraid to ask because you aren’t sure you want to know the answer.

That’s the energy I’m feeling this week, and the cards are right there with me.

Coming Up in the Cards

Current energetic weather, delightfully illustrated by the Meow’s Tarot.

Outlook: Six of Swords

The Six of Swords is a trip with baggage. Those swords are sharp, and they can still cut you. There’s always a fatigue to this card for me. This week I finally noticed one of the reasons why: sometimes you’re just tired of being afraid.

When the pain of staying where you are becomes greater than the pain of hopping on that boat, we hop on the boat. Because here’s the part those Pollyanna woo types always want to skip past (intentionally not looking in the mirror here): fresh starts are never free.

And often we cash in that fresh-start chip when we NEED one, not necessarily when we want one. Doesn’t make it any less valuable. But it helps to be aware.

It doesn’t mean everything is suddenly easy. It just means you’re headed toward more of the ‘easy.’

Advice: Ten of Cups

As advice, the Ten of Cups is not ambiguous: look for the love. Yes, you’ve dealt with some pretty hard things. And yes, you may still be beat up from whatever brought you to this point. But this card is urging us to consider our saving grace: we don’t have to do this in isolation.

I can’t tell you who your ‘real family’ is. Mine isn’t all about the people who share my blood. Family doesn’t have to mean a partner, either. It’s more about feeling than anything else. Maybe family is about the pal who always answers the phone. Maybe it’s that cat who purrs like a freight train when you scratch under his chin, the folks on your favorite online hangout or even old reruns you turn on in the background because the characters are comforting and familiar.

Personally? I checked the damn folder. And I talked about how it all felt (and why it took me a week to face up to it) with a man who loves me very much, until I felt better.

But your family vibe doesn’t have to come from a very-Virgo husband. However you get to that feeling matters far less than leaning into it. So lean!

Your Turn

What fears are you tired of, and how might you soothe them? And who can you call on en route to your fresh start?

Take care, friends. I’m rooting for you. We’ve totally got this. Even if only because we’re not going to stop until we get there.

May your voyage be full of love, wherever you can find it.

~Dix

I sat down to write this column a week ago. But I just couldn’t. I was feeling too overwhelmed, too raw, honestly, too mired in the exact energy I’m trying to talk about.

So I spent the week trying to pull myself out of it (by doing the exact same things that put me there in the first place). Go figure.

I already felt guilty for skipping the week before (clue one). I knew I needed to do something to feel better (clue two). But without knowing exactly what, I felt driven to make my self-care more perfect because I felt like I was massively failing and dropping ball after ball as a result (clue three).

So what did I do with all that? Pick up one damn little thread and just write the column? Of course not. That would be too sensible!

Instead, I buried myself earnestly into an endless round of planning hard enough so I cannot feel overwhelmed ever again. I even thought this might be possible: that’s how blindly invested I was!

I expect we all know how that turned out.

That’s my Very Virgo(TM) brain, and there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s authentically mine. The trillion-and-three ways I can see to build the perfect system are coming from the same brain as the trillion-and-three ways I find fault with myself and the systems I’ve got. Worse is the bite: I see so many options that I freeze, can’t pick the “best” one (because it’s always got to be the “best,” right?), and then beat myself up for that, too.

But you cannot produce in the real world when you’re living in the guilt of the past or worry of the future. So I am moving, for this moment, anyway, into the now. This column, right here, these words on a screen? It’s one thread of the whole fabric and it’s enough for right now.

The cards are loud this week. And I’ve learned that when they get loud, you (or more pointedly I) would do well to listen.

Coming Up in the Cards

This week is the Kingdom of Heaven Tarot on top of our feline friend, Thor the Warrior Kitten (who is actually not-so-kitteny at 11 years old).

Outlook: Empress Rx

I often tell myself, if I can nail that one tiny, elusive little piece of magic, everything will instantly click into place. I’ll have it all figured out and I’ll stop making things so HARD on myself.

Even my ‘things-are-too-hard’ mode is my own fault in my head. “I am failing at being kind to myself!” I think. But this is the Empress Rx: relentless self-improvement, constant admonitions to do better at loving yourself and caring for yourself because obviously, it’s not working. It’s self-blame with some bright, red lipstick on it, declaring itself all for your own good.

I mean, I’m all about giving yourself permission to do what you’ve gotta do. And sometimes, what you’ve gotta do is note the failures so you can improve the system. There is real benefit in considering how you approach what goes on in your life and constructing some plans to make that orchestration less chaotic.

But sometimes, the slavish drive towards building a system—figuring out life’s ‘shoulds’ basically—is the actual problem, what you’re running away from. And it’s not a question of do more and try harder. It’s a question of reassessing the need.

A reversed Empress points not-so-subtly at needs not being met. What she won’t necessarily tell you is which. Maybe it’s a need you’ve named and you’re just starving it, putting it off to “later.” Or maybe you’ve not actually landed on it, and the fixes you keep slapping on top are more like duct tape on a broken leg, a cheap substitute for addressing the bigger issues. Only an honest look in the mirror (without the self-blame baked into the image) can say.

Advice: Wheel Rx

Good, bad or indifferent, it’s all data. And all data can be used to good ends, even if it wasn’t fun to collect. (This reads like an epitaph, man.)

That’s more or less my philosophy of life, right there. If I’ve gotta ride the pain, I’ll be damned if I don’t get something useful out of it.

But here’s the catch the Empress hints at: reducing everything to data can be a fancy way to submerge the feelings. Sometimes you need to just let the moment be what it is.

Sometimes we aren’t reaching for another lesson. We need the grace. The reversed Wheel says we can accept what feels like bad luck honestly right now. The lesson might come later. It usually does. But let where you are be good enough today. That can be the hard part of the equation.

Taken Together

Maybe you’re feeling the gap between what you want to create and what you’re actually creating. Maybe you’re feeling not up to the task. Insufficient, scared, small. I feel you, man. More than I’d like to admit.

That’s okay. Feelings aren’t right or wrong, they just are. But they don’t appear in a vacuum.

So dig below the surface to consider if you’re addressing the right questions. That’s the mystery my clues were pointing out. Because I grew up with ‘do more/try harder’ drilled into every waking breath, I can say without hesitation, it’s a poor alternative for allowing yourself to just not feel okay sometimes and being at peace with that.

We don’t always need a better, more fool-proof, more disciplined approach. Sometimes what we need is the one thing we hand out so freely to everyone else and so severely ration for ourselves: grace.

Good enough for now counts.

Your Turn

Where are you feeding the perceived flaw when the real need is allowing yourself to be less perfect? And the harder question (that I share with you): can you let right now be good enough, without adding it to the list of what you’ve failed to fix?

Be kind to yourselves out there, friends. Or at least, do your best. And accept it as enough already! I’ll be shooting for the same.

~Dix

“I think I’m doing pretty well overall,” I tell my therapist. “I’m not scratching in my sleep anymore, or wringing my hands until they blister.”

Geez. That sounds like a low bar, doesn’t it?

Maybe it is, but if you grew up in a narcissistic environment with a lot of gaslighting, (like, say, in a dysfunctional home or a high-control religious group), well…you learn to mask. Even from yourself.

I’ve practiced this kind of detachment for years, thank-you-very-much. It allows you to function, but there is a cost. Performed well enough and long enough, you lose sensitivity to your own needs, and eventually stop recognizing your emotions.

But that doesn’t mean you’re free and clear of dealing with life’s raw and sticky bits. Those pesky little feelings, like a giant balloon forced under water, have this oh-so-insistent push upward, only to surface the moment your attention slips.

Can you even hear yourself right now? That’s what the cards are asking.

In the Cards

The Kingdom of Heaven Tarot is laying it out for us in rich, angelic imagery.

Outlook: Queen of Pentacles

The Queen of Pentacles keeps inventory. What feeds you, what drains you, where you’ve been hiding from yourself because you’re afraid of what you’ll find.

That inventory-taking can be pointed for someone who’s been practicing not noticing. But that’s the energy we’re looking at. Just like the submerged balloon, awareness breaks through anyway.

You may be noticing that talking to your mother leaves you feeling guilty and anxious, but there’s that one friend who always leaves you feeling better. You could realize that you reach for a drink, or a mindless TV show when you don’t want to think about the tension in an important relationship.

Mostly, you may be telling yourself you’ll “figure it out later” about the problem you don’t know how to solve, because you’re secretly scared you won’t be able to (and it’s your fault it exists in the first place).

The Queen really doesn’t need you to know why or assign blame; she just needs you to notice so you make sure you’ve still got enough to go around.

Advice: Nine of Swords (plus The Emperor)

The Nine of Swords as advice always hits a little weird. It’s not like I’m going to tell you to worry more or miss sleep over guilty obsessing.

But the Nine of Swords still gives us vital insight: those fears, the guilt, the things you wish you’d handled differently? That’s your balloon. The card shows what happens when you’ve been holding it under too long. Its appearance isn’t something to wave off. It’s pointing directly at what you’ve been avoiding. As advice, it’s asking you to listen, in whatever language your angst is speaking.

I pulled a clarifier: The Emperor. He’s the antidote to the guilt and fears. And honestly? His way is usually less painful than the alternative. But he requires you to let the balloon surface.

This isn’t as bad as it sounds, though. The Emperor doesn’t shame-spiral. He looks directly at what has surfaced. He evaluates what’s actually his to own, and makes changes where he can. He is in control, always starting with himself.

Taken Together

I’m expecting a lot of focus on where we’re at in practical terms, and not necessarily just individually. This Queen isn’t self-absorbed. But to feed her court, she’s got to keep her own strength up.

But as the Nine points out, to do that, we’ve got to notice where our food is going sour. Noticing matters. It takes a lot of energy to keep avoiding a truth that wants to surface.

For me, that looks like checking the state of my (energetic) pantry. Where am I feeling confident? Where am I feeling frazzled? Am I showing signs of anxiety, guilt, or struggle in ways I want to keep explaining away?

Rather than slapping a nice, thick layer of denial icing on top of it all, my job is to address it. The Emperor is the antidote. Don’t run from it, make a plan. It’s like meal planning for the Queen. Know what you’ve got to portion it efficiently. Then, taking care of both yourself and your people gets a whole lot easier.

Your Turn

Where do you worry about not having (or being) enough? What do you feel uneasy or guilty about? If you can sniff it out, you can identify one concrete step toward taking control of it.

At least this is how I’m working through it. May your pantry (metaphorical or literal) remain well-stocked, friends! ~Dix