Reversals Aren’t Negative—They’re Invitations: Reframing 'Bad' Tarot Cards
- Suzanne Butler

- Jul 10
- 6 min read
Updated: Jul 13

Tarot reversals have a bit of a reputation problem. You know the look: someone turns over the Ten of Swords—reversed—and their face twists. Or they draw the Tower upside down and mutter something about doom. Reversals get treated like the red-inked comments on a school paper: embarrassing, stressful, and usually avoided. But what if we’re completely misreading the invitation? What if reversed tarot cards aren’t blocks, but openings? What if they aren’t bad omens, but secret doorways?
Let’s talk about reframing our relationship with reversal—and how what seems “bad” is often where the deepest, richest healing lives.
Tarot Isn’t Binary—So Why Are Our Interpretations?

The language we use around tarot reversals is often deeply binary. Upright is “good.” Reversed is “bad.” Upright means progress. Reversed means delay. It mirrors the broader cultural obsession with success versus failure, light versus dark, clarity versus confusion.
But tarot, in its essence, isn’t a binary tool. It’s circular. Archetypal. Cyclical. The Fool’s Journey itself isn’t a straight line from innocence to wisdom—it’s a spiral, looping back on itself, revisiting themes in new ways. So why do we treat reversals like red flags?
The truth is, reversed cards don’t exist to punish us or signal that we’re doing something wrong. They exist to reveal new dimensions. A reversed card doesn’t say, “You’re off-track.” It says, “Look deeper.”
Reversals as Subtle Invitations
Think about it: when a card appears reversed, it hasn’t changed its essential meaning. It hasn’t become something else. The Lovers reversed is still about connection and choice. The Tower reversed is still about transformation. What changes is our relationship to the energy. A reversal is like a whisper instead of a shout. It’s the quiet friend in the corner who doesn’t always speak, but when they do, their words land like thunder.
Reversals often point to energies that are internal, hidden, blocked, or unintegrated. They can signify overuse or underuse. They can signal that something is present, but not fully seen. In this way, a reversal can be more honest than an upright card. It doesn’t flatter. It doesn’t play nice. It asks you to pause, to interrogate, to get real.
The Myth of the “Bad” Card

Before we go further into reversals, we need to address the root issue: the belief that some tarot cards are “bad.” We all have our culprits. The Devil. Death. The Tower. Three of Swords. Ten of Swords. Five of Cups. Cards that look painful or scary or heavy.
And sure—they are heavy. But heavy doesn’t mean harmful. In fact, these cards are often the most honest mirrors we’ll get.
The Devil shows us where we’re trapped. Death shows us where we’re holding on. The Tower shows us what isn’t sustainable. The Three of Swords shows us what still hurts. These are not curses. They’re catalysts. They say: Here is what’s real. Are you ready to stop pretending it’s not? Here is the wound. Are you ready to tend to it?
We fear these cards because they bypass our illusions. They don’t coddle us. But that’s not cruelty. That’s clarity. And clarity is sacred.
Reversals in “Bad” Cards: A Double Misreading
When so-called “bad” cards show up reversed, we’re often doubly rattled. It’s like bad news delivered in a cryptic language. But let’s slow that down.
The Tower reversed can mean the breakdown hasn’t happened yet—because we’re resisting it. Or it can mean we’ve already been through the worst, and now the dust is settling.
The Devil reversed? Liberation. Recognition of the chains, and the will to break them. The light coming back into the room.
Death reversed? A refusal to let something go. A stagnation that’s blocking rebirth. Or sometimes, it’s the slow re-emergence—healing that’s taking its time.
These reversals aren’t warning us. They’re working with us. They’re saying: Here is where the shift is trying to happen. Here is where you’re on the edge of change—but haven’t stepped through yet.
And if we stop long enough to listen, these cards stop feeling negative and start feeling necessary.
Ancestral Wisdom: Shadow Isn’t Evil

In many Indigenous, Eastern, and Earth-based spiritual traditions, shadow is not demonized. It's not seen as "bad." It’s seen as a vital part of balance. We’re the ones who made it shameful.
Modern Western thinking, shaped by centuries of religious dualism and capitalist productivity culture, tends to label what’s dark, slow, uncertain, or uncomfortable as wrong. And tarot—especially in pop culture—has been swept into that tide. But the reversal, like the shadow, is simply asking for inclusion.
It wants to be brought into the whole. It wants you to stop splitting yourself into “acceptable” and “unacceptable” pieces.
When we pull reversed cards, we’re being asked to make peace with what we’ve avoided. To integrate. To reclaim. And in that way, the reversal becomes a spiritual practice. Not of prediction. But of integration.
Case Study: Three of Swords Reversed

Let’s look at this card—the heartbreak icon. Upright, it’s already a rough one: pain, grief, betrayal, sadness. But reversed? Too often, it’s read as more heartbreak. Or unresolved sorrow. Or stuckness. But what if the Three of Swords reversed is your first breath after sobbing? What if it’s the echo of the pain, not the pain itself? What if it’s the awareness that you’re still carrying heartbreak—but now you see it? The reversal here might be asking: Have you acknowledged what broke you? Have you let yourself feel it fully?
Have you spoken the grief aloud?
Because healing doesn’t come from pretending it didn’t happen. It comes from staying present with what did—and giving it shape, meaning, and release. A reversed Three of Swords might be saying: The healing wants to happen. Are you willing to let it?
Working With Reversals in Practice
If you’re newer to tarot or if reversals have always thrown you off, here are a few ways to reframe your practice:
1. Ask Different Questions
Instead of: “What’s going wrong? ”Ask: “What’s asking for deeper attention?” Or: “What’s unfolding below the surface?” Reversals shine when you bring them curiosity, not fear.
2. Check the Energy Flow
Is this card’s energy blocked, excessive, internalized, or suppressed? For example, the Strength card reversed could mean:
You’re doubting your resilience.
You’re overpowering a situation instead of working gently.
You’re not recognizing your emotional courage.
Each version is a different doorway.
3. Use the “Mirror Method”
Look at the upright meaning first. Then ask: How might this card's energy be mirroring something I’m not seeing clearly?
Often, the reversal shows you what’s just out of reach—until you turn inward.
4. Journal Through the Card
Sit with the reversal as a symbolic moment, not just a “card meaning.” Ask:
Where in my life does this energy live?
How do I respond to this theme—resistance, fear, avoidance?
What would it mean to welcome this lesson in?
Write until the reversal starts to reveal its deeper wisdom.
Reversals as Spiritual Dialogue

At their heart, reversed cards invite relationship. They slow us down. They say, “Wait—don’t just rush to the answer.” They ask us to sit in nuance, to hold paradox, to witness ourselves in complexity. And this is the soul of tarot: not prediction, but presence. When we stop treating reversals like red lights and start treating them like quiet mentors, our readings become richer. ore honest. More whole. And we become more whole, too.
Final Thoughts: Wholeness Over Comfort
Here’s the truth: sometimes reversals will hurt. They’ll hit that nerve you’ve been avoiding. They’ll say what no one else will. But they will always speak truth. And that truth is rarely “bad.” It’s just uninvited. Unexpected. Unwanted by the parts of us that crave ease. But you’re not here for ease.
You’re here for healing. You’re here for truth. You’re here to know yourself as whole—shadow and all. So the next time a card turns up reversed, pause before you panic. Ask what it wants you to see. Ask where the invitation is. And walk through that door. Because the reversal? It’s not a no. It’s a whisper: “Come closer.”
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Just what i needed to read