How Purple Garden Tarot Reading Helped Me Choose Myself After a Breakup

Snapshot

Before Trying Purple Garden

My brain still lived in our message thread two months after the breakup. I’d scroll at midnight, reread the same jokes, and convince myself there was a coded “maybe” in there somewhere. Mornings started with a quick check of his socials, which never made me feel better. I wasn’t looking for a miracle; I wanted someone neutral to help me stop bargaining with the past.

I booked a 20-minute tarot reading on Purple Garden because the short format felt doable, like a gentle reset button. I told the reader I needed two things: honest reflection and a plan I could follow even on a bad day.

During the Reading

She pulled the Eight of Swords first and asked, “Where are you keeping yourself in a loop?” It stung, because I knew the answer: late-night scrolling, turning mixed signals into a story about my worth. The clarifier was The Lovers reversed, which she framed not as doom but as clarity—naming the hot-cold dynamic and my ambivalence about letting go. For the future energy, she pulled the Nine of Pentacles. “This is you feeling steady in your own skin,” she said. “Let’s make choices that move you toward that.”

We shifted my question from “Will they come back?” to “What do I want to return to in myself?” She gave me a two-column exercise: on the left, “What I know is true” (they were inconsistent; I felt anxious); on the right, “What I’m afraid is true” (if I stop checking, I’ll miss the moment they change). Seeing those side-by-side took the power out of the fear column.

Then we built a boundary protocol: mute, unfollow, or soft-block for 30 days, move the chat out of sight, and create an “urge-surf” routine for cravings to reach out—three slow breaths, a big glass of water, a 10-minute walk, then re-decide. She added one micro-ritual for closure: write a letter I wouldn’t send, thank the relationship for what it taught me, and archive it. “Closure isn’t a conversation,” she said. “It’s a practice.”

After the Reading

That night, I muted his profile, moved our chat to a hidden folder, and deleted the screenshots. I put my phone to charge in the kitchen and swapped the midnight scroll for a 15-minute wind-down: shower, tea, a page of the two-column exercise. When the urge to check hit, I tried the routine: breathe, water, short walk, then decide. Most times, the craving passed. I booked a 10-minute follow-up for day 7 to stay accountable and to tweak the plan if needed. I also made a “proof of peace” note in my phone. Every time I chose not to look, I logged it. Tiny wins, visible in one place.

Check in at 3 weeks

I am sleeping close to seven hours most nights. I slipped twice, checked his socials, and then wrote what I was actually looking for. Seeing the pattern helped me stop spiraling. I have not sent any late-night messages. The urge to reach out dropped from daily to a couple of times a week, and it is softer now. I signed up for a pottery class again, said yes to a Sunday walk with friends, and made a playlist for quiet mornings. Nostalgia still visits, especially on Fridays, but instead of bargaining with the past, I do the protocol, and it passes. The reading did not hand me a prediction. It gave me a structure I can use when I am tired or sad, which turns out to be exactly what I needed.