Sunday: The Card
I do a weekly reading every Sunday morning. Three cards: Theme, Challenge, Gift. It's been my routine for two years. Most weeks the cards are gentle — a nudge here, a reminder there. That particular Sunday, the Theme card was The Tower.
I remember looking at it and thinking, "Dramatic." I even posted it to my Instagram story with a laughing emoji. The Challenge card was the Ten of Swords — a figure face-down with ten swords in their back, the ultimate "it's over" card. The Gift was The Star — hope and renewal after devastation.
I wrote in my journal: "Big energy this week. Maybe some disruption but ultimately healing. Stay open." I had no idea.
Monday: The First Crack
My company announced a round of layoffs. I'd been there four years. I was a senior designer. I thought I was safe. I wasn't. The meeting with HR lasted eleven minutes. They gave me a box. Security walked me to the elevator. By noon, I was sitting in my car in the parking garage with my desk plant on the passenger seat, wondering what had just happened.
That night, scrolling through my phone in a daze, I saw my Sunday Instagram story. The Tower, staring back at me. My stomach dropped.
Tuesday: The Collapse
I found a letter in my mailbox: my apartment building had been purchased by a development company. All tenants had ninety days to vacate. I'd lived there for six years. It was the only home I'd known in this city.
That same afternoon, I got results from a medical test I'd been putting off. Nothing life-threatening, but a condition that would require surgery and several weeks of recovery. Three pillars of my life — career, home, health — knocked out in forty-eight hours.
I went back to those three cards. Tower. Ten of Swords. The Star. The reading had been almost absurdly literal.
"The Tower doesn't warn you because you can prevent it. It warns you because you can prepare your heart. When the walls come down, you need to remember: there's a Star card waiting on the other side."
The Rebuild
Here's the thing about The Tower that nobody talks about when they're panicking over it: the structure that falls was already unstable. Looking back with honest eyes, my job had been soul-crushing for at least a year. I'd been underpaid, overlooked for promotions, and doing work I didn't believe in. My apartment was too small, in a neighborhood I'd outgrown. And I'd been avoiding that medical appointment for eight months because I didn't want to deal with it.
The Tower didn't destroy my life. It demolished structures I was clinging to out of fear and inertia. The lightning bolt hurt. But the rubble cleared a space I'd never have cleared on my own.
During recovery from surgery, I started freelancing. Within three months, I was earning more than my old salary and choosing my own projects. I found a new apartment — bigger, in a neighborhood I actually loved, with a balcony where I now do my Sunday readings. The medical issue was resolved completely.
What The Tower Really Means
A year later, I no longer flinch when The Tower appears. I've come to understand it as the most honest card in the deck. It says: "Something in your life is built on a foundation that can't hold. It's going to come down. And when it does, you'll have the chance to build something real in its place."
The Tower is not a curse. It's a forced renovation. It's the universe pulling the band-aid off when you've been peeling at the corner for months. If you draw it, don't panic. Look at your life and ask: what structure am I maintaining out of habit rather than purpose? That's where the lightning will strike. And if you're honest with yourself, you might realize you've been waiting for it.
The Star always follows The Tower. Always. Remember that.