The Ten of Swords: Naming Trauma Wounds & Healing

A rose beside the sword: what tried to destroy you and what made you beautiful anyway.

People flinch when they pull the Ten of Swords.

They think it means the end, the betrayal, the breakdown, the bottom.

But I don’t see it that way.

I see this card as sacred.

This card, this image of a person pierced and pinned to the earth by ten sharp blades, doesn’t show us death. It shows us the truth finally being too heavy to carry silently.

This is the moment after betrayal, before rebirth.

The Ten of Swords isn’t a forecast. It’s a flashback. A map of survival. A moment of total stillness when the body says, "No more." Not because it's giving up, but because it's waking up.

Each sword has a trauma wound name. When I started naming them, I realized it wasn’t abstract; it was precise. And I wasn’t just wounded; I was marked.

Silencing – when you were punished for telling the truth

Mockery – when your softness became a punchline

Dismissal – when your pain was minimized or laughed off

Conditional Love – when you had to earn connection by shrinking

Scapegoating – when your family made you the problem

Narrative Theft – when someone else told your story and got it wrong

Abandonment – when they walked away, and you still defended them

Guilt Inheritance – carrying shame that was never yours

Emotional Labor – being the parent to your parents

Neglect – the slow trauma of being forgotten in plain sight

Naming them didn’t erase them. But it did start to pull them out.

Because how can we heal from wounds we’re not allowed to describe?

This card isn’t here to warn you. It’s here to mirror you.

It says, "Look at what you lived through." Not in pity, but in power.

Not the end. Just the part where I started naming the truth.

It says, "You were not weak. You were outnumbered."

If you’ve pulled this card recently, or even if life feels like this image, I want to tell you something.

You are not dead. You are done pretending.

Let that be your beginning.

Start naming your swords. Out loud. On paper. In a whisper. In a scream.

This isn’t about defeat. It’s about naming what tried to kill you and living anyway.

And if you need a witness, someone to sit beside you while you pull each one out, I'm here.

I offer tarot, dream interpretation, and symbol work rooted in emotional intelligence. These are not predictions. They're mirrors. Maps. Tools for seeing what you were never taught to name.

If this post spoke to you, you can write to me. Maybe I’ll share some reflections (with permission) because I have a feeling I’m not the only one quietly pulling blades out in the dark.

This isn’t the end. This is where the bleeding stops. This is where your truth begins.

You are not the sword. You are the survivor.