The Tower upright

In a tarot card reading, cards are used to predict the future. They are shuffled in a way and placed in a random fashion where only randomness predicts the future. Each card drawn represents different aspects of life, allowing for deep insights into personal circumstances, relationships, and potential outcomes that may not be immediately visible. The intuitive interpretation of these cards guides the reader, revealing connections between the past, present, and future while helping the querent reflect on their life’s journey and the choices before them. This ancient practice is steeped in symbolism and meanings that resonate with universal truths, offering clarity and guidance that can illuminate the path ahead. The tower upright is the card of sudden and unexpected change and a new beginning, embodying the potential for transformation and growth. In my life, I would learn that events would unfold that even “Ms. Cleo” would have not seen, as the twists and turns of fate often bring surprises that challenge our understanding and push us toward new horizons. Recognizing these shifts allows us to embrace the unpredictability of life, focusing on resilience and adaptability as we navigate through the complexities of existence.

The house that we lived in was a starting point of an exciting but yet downward spiral, a labyrinth of emotions and unspoken words. As an adult, my family enlightened me about the world around me as a young child, sharing stories that were both enlightening and troubling, revealing the hidden layers of life that I was blissfully unaware of. When I was young, I didn’t see the chaos around me because I was in my small world, a cocoon of innocence filled with laughter and play. Meanwhile, living in my small world, the grownups had their own story to tell, laden with secrets and struggles that often went unnoticed by children. From the cops knocking on the door looking for a certain someone to the infidelity that would shake the foundation of family, life unfolded in ways that were both curious and unsettling. I even remember late visits as I slept in the hallway, being touched, not knowing what was happening—only my body’s response to wetting the bed and me telling myself boys will be boys, inner narratives that were formed to ease the discomfort of confusion and fear. As an adult, it makes all sense to me why I was responding the way I was, piecing together the fragments of memories that were once blurred and complicated. Even some of these events as a child still haunt me today, resurfacing in quiet moments when I least expect them. Infidelity is the utmost betrayal, and I have seen it destroy families, including my own, leaving scars that time may heal, but never truly erase. It serves as a haunting reminder of the complexities of relationships and the fragility of trust, forever altering our perceptions of love and stability.

I was young and I was a mama’s boy, and I am still to this day. I love my mother very much, and I think a mix between the two of them—my mother and my grandmother—shaped who I am today. Their nurturing spirits instilled in me values of kindness, resilience, and the importance of family bonds. Combined with wisdom and life’s harsh lessons, wake-up calls, and close moments where life could tragically change, I grew tough skin over the years, learning to embrace challenges as opportunities for growth. Even so, no matter how tough you can be, even the past can bring you down on the sunniest days, reminding me that vulnerability is a part of the human experience and that it’s okay to feel deeply, even amidst strength.

Thinking back on those events in the townhome, I only remember certain pieces as this part of my life was supercharged, fast-forward, and short. I remember having company over to my house, strangers who came and went, bringing with them an air of uncertainty and excitement, like a whirlwind of unfamiliar faces and laughter that echoed through the halls. There was this one guy whose name I didn’t know; however, he always enjoyed tucking me into bed, rubbing his hands along my side in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. As I lay there, his presence stirred a mix of emotions within me. My own mother never tucked me into bed in such a way; I couldn’t help but wonder why this felt so different. The boundaries of innocence seemed crossed and blurred during those chaotic nights, and as I drifted off to sleep, the fear seemed to slip away as my eyes closed. Now I begin to think what he may have done while I was asleep.

I remember one time the police knocked on the door looking for my uncle, only for my brothers, who were teenagers at the time, to boldly question the police on the validity of the information and if they had a warrant to search our residence. The house became unhinged, filled with noise and chaos, and we were a bunch of kids running amok, taking advantage of the confusion and energy in the air. I even remember one Christmas being canceled because one of my brothers and his friend decided to break into someone’s home and take their Christmas gifts, opening them in the woods behind our house, where the trees stood tall and silent, witnesses to their foolish adventure. Later, the police knocked on the door explaining to my parents that they needed to pay for the stuff that was damaged, a heavy reality that settled over the house like a dark cloud. Christmas was canceled, and our stuff was returned to pay for their items, leaving us feeling the weight of disappointment and the loss of holiday cheer. I remember one night when one of my parents had a friend over, and stuff happened; well, the other parent in the house found out, and it inadvertently started the tipping point of divorce. It was the tower upright in that moment, a jarring revelation that would forever change the dynamics of our family. It was a dramatic needed change, a moment where chaos and despair set the stage for something bigger, as the foundations of our lives shifted, prompting growth and new directions amid the turmoil.

In this moment of life; there were some really crazy moments that shook the foundation of family in many ways. The purpose of this writing is to work through traumas and share my story. It’s not to cast a reflection on those involved in a negative way; however, to reflect on their stories as well and say that everything that has happened is not as crystal clear as it may seem. Still struggling with the answers in my head; I can’t hold anyone accountable here. However, I can talk about it because it’s my story and in the same respect theirs, as I don’t know what was happening in their mind. Each family member had their own challenges, emotions, and struggles that I can only imagine. In the end; my family was torn apart by actions that may never be explained and would never be forced to explain due to the utmost respect I have for my parents.

I remember the heavy silence that filled our home, a stark contrast to the laughter that once echoed within its walls. So please forgive me if I am beating around the bush in this writing piece; however, it’s only to protect my family. At this moment, my mother and father were getting a divorce, and us kids were left in my father’s care; a complete challenge for any single father with four boys. The endless bickering and the palpable tension made it difficult to find a moment of peace. The battle between mother and father started. Lowball name-calling to skipping weeks of visitation; the family was, in short, a complete mess. I often found myself caught in the middle, trying to navigate this turbulent sea of adult emotions, longing for a return to simpler times when everything felt safe and secure.

One day, while my father was working, he had an accident during routine maintenance on heavy machinery. He often worked close to deep manholes, which were a significant risk. On that day, a wrong move caused him to fall into a manhole, where he desperately grabbed the ladder to save himself.

My father sustained severe injuries from a fall and required emergency medical intervention to stabilize his condition. I remember I went over to my grandmother’s house where she was praying for my father as we sat on the floor in her living room, tears running down her face as she pled for God to have mercy on him and bring him back to health. We didn’t know what was going on in the moment; however, hours later we found my father was expected to survive, which brought us a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. My father had a long recovery process ahead; however, this also caused a financial burden that loomed over our family like a dark cloud. My father, being a single dad with four boys, had already faced numerous challenges, and now, with a newly purchased home that went through a divorce, his struggles were compounded. In the end, the house was foreclosed, and we were forced to move, leading to a new chapter in my life, one filled with uncertainty but also with the possibility of resilience and strength as we adapted to our new circumstances.