This week told the story of how compassion collapses into defense when the ground falls out from under me. It started with softness and clarity, burned through destruction and paralysis, then landed in exhaustion and hypervigilance, the predictable aftermath of trying to rebuild too fast after everything falls.
Daily Cards
December 15 – Strength
The week opened with gentle power, the invitation to work with difficulty through compassion instead of force. Strength asked me to meet challenges without hardening, to stay soft even when bracing felt safer.
December 16 – Queen of Swords
Sharp clarity arrived next, cutting through confusion with precision. The Queen brought truth-telling energy, the reminder that sometimes compassion means being honest rather than accommodating, that some things need to be named plainly.
December 17 – The Tower
Everything that wasn’t solid burned. The Tower didn’t negotiate, it just destroyed what was built on false foundations, what I’d been maintaining through sheer force of will. After Strength’s gentleness and the Queen’s clarity came total collapse.
December 18 – Two of Swords
In the aftermath, paralysis. The Two of Swords showed up frozen, blindfolded, unable to choose what comes next. After destruction came the terrifying question of whether to rebuild or walk away, and I couldn’t move in either direction.
December 19 – Two of Wands (New Moon)
The new moon brought a shift from paralysis to planning. The Two of Wands arrived with eyes open, strategically considering options, ready to commit to a direction. Not rushing to rebuild, but thoughtfully choosing what’s worth investing in.
December 20 – Ten of Wands
And here’s where I fucked up: I immediately took on too much. The Ten of Wands showed me bent under unsustainable weight, already recreating the exhaustion patterns the Tower tried to destroy. Vision turned into burden faster than I could notice.
December 21 – Nine of Wands
The week closed with defensive exhaustion. The Nine of Wands revealed me standing guard, battle-worn and hypervigilant, expecting the next hit. Instead of resting after the Tower’s destruction, I’m just bracing for more collapse while carrying too much.
Weekly Themes
- From softness to defense – How quickly compassion collapsed into hypervigilance once the Tower hit.
- The speed of re-traumatization – Moving from destruction to paralysis to overcommitment to defensive exhaustion in less than a week.
- Clarity that couldn’t prevent collapse – The Queen of Swords cut through confusion, but truth-telling didn’t stop the Tower from burning what was already unstable.
- The trap of immediate rebuilding – How the Two of Wands’ strategic planning turned into the Ten of Wands’ unsustainable burden almost immediately.
- Vigilance as coping mechanism – The Nine of Wands showing how I’ve replaced rest with constant battle-readiness.
Reflection
This week showed me the complete cycle of how I respond to crisis, and it’s not pretty. Started with Strength teaching me to stay soft while facing difficulty. The Queen of Swords gave me the clarity to see what needed to change. Then the Tower destroyed it all anyway, because some things were always going to fall regardless of how gently or clearly I approached them.
What happened next is the pattern I need to break. The Two of Swords paralysis was understandable, standing in rubble, unable to decide what comes next. But the shift to the Two of Wands should have been about careful consideration, about choosing wisely what to build. Instead, it became the Ten of Wands almost immediately. I went from strategic planning to carrying everything, from thoughtful direction to unsustainable burden, without even noticing the transition.
Now I’m at the Nine of Wands, defensive and exhausted, guarding against the next collapse while still carrying too much weight from trying to rebuild too fast. This card is showing me that I never actually rested after the Tower. I never processed what fell. I just moved straight from destruction to hypervigilance, from “everything burned” to “I have to prevent it from burning again” without stopping to ask whether what burned was worth rebuilding at all.
The lesson here is brutal: my resilience has become a trap. My capacity to keep going, to stay standing, to carry more than I should, all of it is working against me now. The Tower cleared space for something different, but I filled that space with the same patterns before the dust even settled. The Two of Wands offered a chance to choose differently, and I chose to immediately overextend. Now the Nine of Wands is asking whether I can actually rest, whether I can lower my guard, whether survival mode is still serving me or just keeping me exhausted.
What I’m seeing now is that Strength’s invitation at the beginning of the week, to work with difficulty through compassion, applies to how I treat myself, not just external challenges. The Queen of Swords‘ clarity needs to cut through my own bullshit about what I “should” be able to handle. The Tower destroyed what needed to fall. The Two of Swords paralysis was the pause I should have honored longer. The Two of Wands planning was right, but I executed it wrong by immediately piling on weight. The Ten of Wands exhaustion is what happens when I don’t learn. And the Nine of Wands defense is what happens when I confuse vigilance with safety.
This week taught me that I can survive just about anything, but survival isn’t the same as living. That rebuilding without rest just recreates exhaustion with a different structure. That my defenses are keeping me as isolated as they are protected. The work ahead isn’t about being stronger or more resilient, I’ve proven I have that capacity. The work is about learning when to stop, when to rest, when to let my guard down, when to admit I’m tired instead of just adding more weight and standing guard against the next Tower.
Incantation for the Week Ahead
I survived the fall, now I choose to rest
My defenses serve me when they’re temporary, not permanent
I rebuild slowly, with intention, without urgency
What I create from this space will be different
I honor my capacity without exploiting it
My vigilance turns to presence, my exhaustion to restoration
I am safe enough to lower my guard
I am strong enough to admit I’m tired
