Reading for yourself — and when not to

Most people who learn tarot learn it on themselves. You're always available, you never mind being practised on, and you know the background to every question. So it's a little awkward to admit what nearly every teacher of the cards says sooner or later: your own readings are the hardest ones to do well.

That isn't a superstition about bad luck. The reason is simpler than that, and it's worth understanding, because the same thing that makes reading for yourself hard also tells you when to stop.

Why your own cards are hardest

When you read for a stranger, you have nothing riding on the answer. You look at the Five of Cups and see what's there: a cloaked figure mourning three spilt cups, with two still standing behind them. When you read for yourself about something you care about, you arrive with hopes and fears already in your hands, and they get to the cards before you do.

One well-used beginner's course says it plainly. Reading for yourself can be done, but it is very hard to do well, because you aren't an objective reader. Strong hopes and fears bend the interpretation. You notice the part of a card that agrees with you and skate over the rest. Even very experienced readers catch themselves doing it. That's not a failing. It's being human.

The same course suggests a useful exercise. Do your reading as normal and write it down. Then look at the spread again with the question set aside, and try to read it a completely different way. What else could each card be saying? You aren't meant to swap your first reading for the second. You're learning to see where your wishes were leaning on it.

A quick check before you shuffle

Another long-running course offers three questions to ask before you read about someone close to you:

• Do I feel strong emotions when I think about this?
• Do I have a stake in how it turns out?
• Do I want a particular outcome?

If the answer to any of them is yes, its advice is to turn the reading round, so that it's about your own part in the situation rather than the other person's. Those three questions make a fair check on yourself before any reading. If all three are a loud yes, that's worth noticing before you lay a single card.

When to put the deck down

There are states in which a reading is very unlikely to help. One writer who gave a whole book to reading for yourself is frank about them, mostly from experience.

When you're frightened. If you're badly worried about something, any card that doesn't promise the outcome you want will look like a bad omen. That writer describes reading the night before an important day, drawing the Three of Swords, a heart pierced by three blades, and lying awake with it. The day went well. The reading had simply shown the fear back to them, bigger.

When you're exhausted. A tired reader is rarely an insightful one. Tired readings tend to be muddled, and tiredness makes you more emotional and more fixed on one outcome. It will keep until morning.

When you're upset. If you're already in tears, anything other than "it'll be all right" is likely to hurt more than help, and the cards won't always say that. Call a friend, have a bath, put on music you love. Come back when you're calmer.

When you've already decided. If there's only one answer you're willing to hear, you aren't really asking. You're looking for permission, and if the cards don't give it, you'll either argue with them or shuffle again. Ask when you're ready for whatever comes up, not just for what you hope.

When it's the fourth time. If you notice you're asking the same question again, or rewording it slightly in the hope of a different answer ("this year?", "in the next twelve months?", "by the summer, then?"), you're too attached to the outcome for the cards to tell you anything new. That's the clearest sign there is to stop.

What to do instead

Putting the deck down doesn't mean dropping the question.

• Lay it out and leave it. If you can't resist, the same writer suggests laying the spread, taking a photo of it without studying it, and putting the cards away for a few days. Look at the picture when you can be open to it. The same cards often say something quite different once the worry has settled.
• Ask someone else to read. Readers have always done this for each other. Someone without your stake in the answer can see what you can't.
• Set yourself a limit. That writer suggests one reading a day at most, with one question and perhaps one follow-up. It sounds strict. It's there to protect your own judgement, which tarot is meant to strengthen, not replace.
• Change the question. Instead of "Will it work out?", try "What can I do to help it?" or "What am I not seeing?" A question about your own part gives the cards something to work with.

When you need a person, not a reading

Sometimes what's behind the urge to reach for the cards is bigger than any spread. If you're in real distress or feel unsafe, a reading is not a substitute for help from a person: please talk to someone you trust, a doctor, or a crisis service where you live.

That isn't the cards failing. A deck can help you think. It can't sit with you.

What to take from this

• Your own readings are the hardest. Hopes and fears get to the cards before you do.
• Check yourself before you shuffle. Strong feelings, a stake in the outcome or a wanted answer all bend a reading.
• Frightened, exhausted, upset, already decided, asking again: put the deck down. It will still be there tomorrow.
• Photograph it, ask someone else, or set a limit. And when it's more than a question, talk to a person.

Next, the last lesson of the course: what the tarot readings here are actually doing, and why they work the way they do.