The Tower → The Star

The Tower is one of the most commonly misunderstood cards in tarot.

At its core, The Tower represents sudden upheaval, destroying illusions, and the collapse of structures that were never truly stable to begin with. It is the lightning strike that exposes truth. The moment when what we’ve built—relationships, identities, dreams—can no longer hold.

It is not gentle.
It is not comfortable.
But it is honest.

And this past year… I have lived inside The Tower.

A traumatic breakup that dismantled everything I thought I wanted. I had built a version of stability around that relationship—one I was willing to give everything to. But staying would have meant abandoning myself… my heart, my soul, my truth. And I could no longer do that.

So I left.

Not because it was easy—but because it was necessary.

And with that choice came the reality of having nowhere to land.
At 33 years old, I found myself back at my dad’s house. Starting over. Again.

There was grief in that.
There was ego in that.
There was a deep, quiet questioning of everything.

I lost more than the relationship.
I lost friendships.
I lost my sense of stability.
I lost joy in the little things for a while.

I moved three times during the year of 33—each transition not just physical, but deeply felt in my nervous system. It stirred something old in me… the memory of being a kid, moving every year, never quite settling. That same underlying feeling of where do I belong?

The Tower doesn’t just shake your external world—
it echoes through your past.

And yet, even in the unraveling… something else was happening.

Becoming a dog mom to a puppy changed me. He is a year and a half now.

It grounded me in a way I didn’t expect. It gave me something steady to care for, something that needed me to show up even when I felt like I was falling apart. It softened me, shaped me, and reminded me that love—real love—is consistent, present, and mutual.

Slowly, without me forcing it, The Tower began to do what it does best:

It cleared. It humbled me.

What once felt like obstacles…now is becoming calmer.
What once felt confusing… is now more clear.

Not because everything is figured out—
but because I now know what I don’t want.

And that clarity is powerful.

The Tower stripped away the noise, the misalignment, the illusions of what I thought my life should look like. It dismantled the version of me that was trying to hold it all together at the cost of myself.

And in its place… space.

Space to rebuild.
Space to choose differently.
Space to become more refined, more honest, more me.

Because The Tower, as destructive as it feels, is also an invitation to streamline your life—to remove what is not essential so that what is can finally take root.

And when I chose to trust that… things began to shift.

I now live in a beautiful little cabin, with view of the Salish sea on Orcas Island and the presence of Mount Baker from my loft window. Surrounded by trees and the birds harmoniously singing. My landlord is kind, supportive and super rad. My cat and my dog have the sweetest relationship. There is peace here.

Not perfection—
but peace.

I started leaning into what actually matters to me.
My purpose.
My work.
My truth.

And somewhere along the way, I remembered something deeper:

This is not the first time I’ve had to begin again.
And it won’t be the last.

But each time, I return with more wisdom.
More faith.
More love for myself than I had before.

The Tower didn’t end me.
It revealed me.

And now… I feel myself stepping into the energy of The Star.

Where The Tower is disruption, The Star is restoration.
Where The Tower takes, The Star gives.
Where The Tower breaks you open, The Star teaches you how to tend to what remains.

The Star is not just hope—it is active hope.

It is the understanding that what I pour into my life now is what will grow.

That after everything has been stripped away, I have the opportunity to rebuild—not from fear, not from urgency, but from alignment. From truth.

The Star asks:
What are you choosing now?
What are you nurturing?

I trust that I have everything I need.
I trust that what is meant for me will meet me.
I trust that as long as I stay rooted in my authentic truth, the universe will provide.

So I am tending carefully.

To my energy.
To my thoughts.
To my environment.
To the life I am creating.

Because what I invest in now—returns.

This is the quiet discipline of healing.
The devotion to self.
The willingness to believe in something softer, steadier, and more sustainable.

If The Tower was the storm…
The Star still glows after the storm has passed.

Glowing. Open. Infinite.

And under that sky, I am no longer rebuilding from who I thought I had to be -

I am creating from who I truly am.