Carrying Lies as Truth: Lessons from the Six of Swords

When I was fourteen, a bully told me something I carried for nearly two decades. He said I was ugly, pathetic, useless. That I would never be loved by anyone. I didn’t sit down and decide to believe him, but those words sank in. They clung to an insecurity I already had and became part of my inner story.

We all know how this happens. Someone says something cruel or careless, and instead of brushing it off, we hold onto it. The words start to feel true because they explain what we already fear about ourselves. And once they take root, they can shape the way we see the world.

The problem is, those stories are not always real. They are lies that masquerade as truth. They do not just wound us, they also plug up something deeper we do not know how to face. That is why they stay.

This is my story, but I know it is not just mine. We all carry lies at some point. The real question is: what happens when we finally stop carrying lies as truth? And what lessons from the Six of Swords can help with this?

The Story I Carried

Words That Stick

In year nine, I faced relentless bullying. One kid, we’ll call him Joe (because that’s his name), always knew what to say to make me feel worthless. His insults were constant, but one moment stands out. He told me I was pathetic, useless, and would never be loved. At the time, it felt like a simple insult. Over time, it became something more.

For years, I believed those words. Not consciously, not as a decision, but because they answered a question I already had about myself. Why did I struggle to fit in? Why did I feel disconnected? His words gave me an explanation, and I carried it as truth. Looking back, I can see that I was carrying lies as truth, holding onto words that never really belonged to me.

How False Stories Masquerade as Truth

Looking back, I can see how those words worked their way in. They did not arrive as truth, but they fit perfectly into my fear of being unworthy. They gave me something to hold onto, even if it was painful.

It was not until years later, talking with a therapist, that I realised Joe probably did not even believe what he said. He just wanted to hurt me. But that did not matter. I had carried his words as though they were fact. They had become part of my identity, shaping how I saw myself. As an Enneagram 9, with that deep fear of being overlooked or unworthy, it made sense that I took them on and let them shape me for so long.

This is the nature of lies we carry. They are convincing because they explain something we already feel. And when they fit, they become hard to question.

Lessons from the Six of Swords

The Strange Comfort of the Plug

When I began learning tarot, I found an image that made sense of all this: the Six of Swords. It shows a family in a boat heading toward calmer waters. The boat is pierced with swords. Now, I am not an expert in nautical engineering, but I have seen Titanic, and I know that holes in boats are a terrible idea. Boats with holes sink.

At first glance, the swords look like the problem. They are painful thoughts, old wounds, heavy stories. But here is the twist: they are also plugging the very holes they made. They are keeping the boat afloat, even as they weigh it down.

That was exactly what happened with Joe’s words. They were lies, but they also served as a plug. They explained why I felt anxious and unlovable. They gave me a reason for my pain, even if it was not the truth. In their own warped way, they kept me afloat.

Why Letting Go Isn’t Enough

The danger comes when we try to let go without looking deeper. If I had simply dropped Joe’s story, I would have been left with a gaping hole underneath. The insecurity was still there. The boat still leaked.

That is what happens when we replace one harmful story with another. We remove one sword, but the hole remains. Without repair, we sink. Healing is not about ripping out the swords and pretending we are fine. It is about patching the holes underneath, so we do not need the swords at all.

This is why letting go by itself never works. We need to ask what is being covered and what needs tending to. This is one of the key lessons from the Six of Swords. It is also why we must notice when we are carrying lies as truth instead of addressing the real wound.

Healing Beneath the Lies

Shadow Work as Repair

True healing means asking what insecurity the lie is covering. For me, it was the fear that I was unworthy of love and belonging. Joe’s words did not create that fear, but they cemented it.

Shadow work is about facing those hidden parts. It is uncomfortable, but it is necessary. When I began to name and face that fear, I saw that the lie was not the truth. It was a plug, hiding a deeper wound that needed attention.

The work was not quick. It was slow, messy, and often painful. But it was also freeing. Each time I faced the wound underneath, the old lie lost its hold. Shadow work showed me that I had been carrying lies as truth, and that the real task was to patch the holes they were covering.

Self-Care as Rebuilding

Self-care, when it is honest, is repair. It is not just surface-level comfort. It is the process of patching the boat. For me, that meant therapy, journaling, conversations with trusted friends, and tarot as reflection. Each piece of work filled in the hole, so I did not need to keep the sword there.

That is the work of real self-care. Making ourselves seaworthy again, not by holding onto lies, but by repairing what lies once covered.

Self-care is not about ignoring the cracks. It is about mending them, even when it takes longer than we want.

Your Turn

What Lies Are You Carrying?

What stories are you holding onto that were never yours? What words from the past have slipped in as truth, simply because they seemed to explain what you already feared?

Where are the swords in your boat, the painful thoughts that pierce you but also keep you afloat? What would happen if you patched the holes underneath instead of clinging to those swords?

What If You Let Them Go?

What would it look like to move forward with a repaired boat, not a leaking one? What if you could travel lighter, without lies plugging up the cracks?

This is what shadow work offers. This is what tarot can open up: the space to see what you are carrying, and to imagine what it would be like to finally set it down.

The invitation is not to forget or ignore your past, but to look at it clearly and choose differently.

Conclusion: Lessons from the Six of Swords

The Six of Swords shows us that moving on is not just about leaving old stories behind. It is about recognising what they were covering and doing the work to heal beneath them.

We all carry lies that masquerade as truth. But we do not have to keep them. We can repair, rebuild, and move forward into calmer waters, not patched by pain, but strengthened by healing. These are the lessons from the Six of Swords. And they remind us of the cost of carrying lies as truth.

If you want to explore how tarot can support that kind of shadow work, take a look at my Six of Swords meaning or book a reading with me. Together, we can uncover the stories you are carrying and explore what it might take to finally set them down.