How to Get Your Ex Back: Powerful Tips, Tarot Wisdom, and a Little Magic

First — before anything else — I want you to take a breath.

I mean that genuinely. Not as a therapeutic platitude or a soft opening to get you reading. I mean it because I know, after years of sitting with people in the exact place you are in right now, that your nervous system has probably been running at a frequency that is not sustainable. The checking of the phone. The replaying of conversations. The oscillation between hope and despair that can happen three times before breakfast.

You are carrying something heavy. And you have been carrying it, most likely, without anyone who truly understands the full weight of it.

I want you to know that what you are feeling is not weakness. It is not neediness. It is not evidence that something is fundamentally wrong with you. It is the entirely human, entirely understandable response to losing someone who mattered. Someone whose presence organized part of your world. Someone whose absence has left a silence that ordinary life keeps falling into.

Love is the most powerful energetic force I work with. I have spent my entire adult life studying energy in its many forms — planetary, karmic, psychological, spiritual — and nothing moves through a human being with the force and complexity of love. When it is present it is the most nourishing thing in existence. When it withdraws it leaves something that feels, at its most acute, like a physical wound.

So if you are hurting right now — genuinely, achingly hurting — I want you to hear this first, before strategy, before cards, before any conversation about what to do next:

That hurt is proportional to what you felt. And what you felt was real.

You did not imagine the connection. You did not manufacture the love. The relationship that ended was real, the intimacy was real, the version of yourself that existed inside that love was real. None of that disappears because the relationship did. It lives in you. It shaped you. And it will — I have seen this more times than I can count — eventually become part of what leads you toward something even more genuinely aligned.

I know that feels impossible to believe right now. I am not asking you to believe it. I am asking you to hold it lightly — the possibility that what feels like an ending is also, from a vantage point you cannot yet access, a beginning.

The cards I have pulled for thousands of people in exactly this moment — lost, hopeful, heartsick, brave enough to be sitting here looking for a way forward — have shown me this consistently enough that I have stopped calling it coincidence: the people who face this moment with honesty and genuine self-inquiry almost always find their way to something better. Sometimes that something better is a healed and genuinely transformed version of the relationship they lost. Sometimes it is something they couldn't have imagined wanting until the loss made space for it.

Either way, the path forward begins not with strategy but with truth.

And that — gently, carefully, with every ounce of expertise and genuine care I have — is what I am here to help you find.

So. Let's begin.

In years of reading for people across every continent, every culture, every conceivable variation of heartbreak — I have never once met someone who came to me asking about an ex who was simply asking about an ex.

What they were really asking was something deeper, something more vulnerable, something most people don't have the language for until they're sitting across from someone like me at two in the morning with their heart in pieces:

Am I loveable? Did I matter? Was any of it real? And is there any version of this story where it doesn't end here?

Those are the actual questions underneath "how do I get them back."

And those are the questions I am genuinely equipped to help you answer.

Not because I will tell you what you want to hear. I won't. In my experience, the readers who tell you what you want to hear are the most expensive ones — not because of what they charge, but because of what their comfortable reassurances cost you in time, energy, and emotional real estate spent waiting for a future that was never coming.

I will tell you what the cards show. What the energy reveals. What your own patterns — the ones visible to someone trained to see them — are actually saying beneath the story you've been telling yourself.

And in my experience, that honesty is not the opposite of hope. It is the beginning of it.

What actually happens energetically when a relationship ends

Before we talk about tarot, before we talk about ritual or strategy or timing — I want to talk about energy. Because in my work, everything begins here.

When two people are in a relationship — any relationship, regardless of how long it lasted or how it ended — they create what I think of as an energetic entanglement. A web of shared frequency, shared history, shared emotional imprinting that doesn't dissolve the moment someone walks out the door. It persists. It threads through your dreams, your body's muscle memory, the particular quality of silence in your flat on a Tuesday evening. It shows up in the way you still reach for your phone to tell them something funny before remembering.

This is why breakups feel, at their worst, not just like losing a person but like losing an entire version of yourself. Because in a very real energetic sense, you did. The self that existed in the context of that relationship — the person you were when you were seen by them, when you were known by them — is genuinely gone. What you are grieving is both the relationship and the self that lived inside it.

Understanding this — really understanding it, not just intellectually but in your body — is the first thing I work on with clients who come to me after a separation. Because until you understand what you are actually grieving, you cannot understand what you actually want. And until you understand what you actually want, any action you take toward reconnection is built on a foundation that won't hold.

The question is never simply "how do I get them back."

The question is: "what am I really trying to return to — and is that thing actually available in this person, or am I looking for it in the wrong place?"

The cards will tell us.

What I see in people who have just lost someone — and what it means energetically

After three and a half decades of sitting with people in the immediate aftermath of loss, I have come to recognize the energetic signatures of separation with something close to precision. Each reaction carries specific information — not just about what happened, but about what is needed next. Let me walk you through what I actually see.

The person who blames themselves entirely

This is the most common energetic pattern I encounter, and it is also the most quietly destructive. It presents as guilt and self-criticism — the constant replay of every conversation, every choice, every moment where things could have gone differently. If only I had been less this. If only I had been more than that.

What this pattern actually reveals energetically is not guilt. It is controlled.

If I caused this — if it was my fault, if I made specific mistakes that produced this specific outcome — then I have agency. I can identify what went wrong and fix it. The alternative — that sometimes people leave for reasons that have nothing to do with your adequacy, that sometimes timing and circumstance and the other person's own unresolved patterns are the primary forces at work — is profoundly harder to sit with. Because it means you couldn't have prevented it. And you cannot control what comes next.

When I see this pattern in the cards — and it appears with remarkable regularity — I see people whose primary wound is not the relationship ending but the loss of the sense that they can manage outcomes through effort and self-correction. The work here is not about getting the ex back. It is about building a relationship with uncertainty that doesn't require constant self-punishment as the price of feeling in control.

The person living inside the past

This is the energetic signature of hope anchored to memory rather than present reality. The old photographs. The replayed conversations. The careful tending of nostalgia as though it were a living thing. We were so good together. They must feel it too. That connection doesn't just disappear.

Here is what I want to say to you if this is where you are: you are right that the connection doesn't disappear. Energetic bonds of genuine intimacy do not evaporate. They persist. And that persistence is real and meaningful — and also, sometimes, a trap.

Because the question is not whether what you had was real. It was. The question is whether the present-tense person your ex is right now — not the memory of them, not the best version of them, not the person they were in the moments you most loved — is someone who can meet you where you actually are. Nostalgia is one of the most powerful energetic forces I work with. It deserves tremendous respect and tremendous scrutiny in equal measure.

The person who has turned grievance into anger

Anger after a breakup is not a problem. It is information. It is, in fact, one of the most energetically productive responses to loss — if you understand what it is telling you and refuse to be consumed by it.

In my experience, anger in the aftermath of separation almost always contains two messages. The first is about the situation itself — a genuine response to pain, to betrayal, to the particular indignity of being left. That anger is valid. It needs to be felt, expressed safely, and released.

The second message is subtler and more important: anger is frequently protecting something softer beneath it. Grievance. Vulnerability. The terror of having loved someone completely and having that love not be enough. Anger is armor. And while the armor served a purpose in the immediate aftermath of loss, wearing it indefinitely makes reconnection — either with this person or with anyone else — essentially impossible.

When anger appears prominently in a reading, I don't move past it quickly. I sit with my client inside it. Because the thing the anger is protecting is almost always the most important piece of the whole reading.

The person searching for an explanation that will make it make sense

This is perhaps the most intellectually exhausting pattern I encounter. The endless analysis. The excavation of every conversation for the sentence that explains everything. The reading of old texts, old emails, old journal entries in search of the precise moment where the trajectory changed.

I understand this impulse completely. The human mind is an extraordinary meaning-making machine, and it will work overtime to find a narrative that makes the inexplicable feel explainable. The problem is that relationships — real ones, complex ones, ones that actually matter — rarely end for the single, clean, articulable reason the analytical mind is looking for.

What I offer these clients is not the explanation they are searching for. It is something more useful: a re-framing of the question. Not "why did this ending" but "what is this ending making available?" Not "what went wrong" but "what is no longer working in my life that this relationship was allowing me to avoid seeing?"

Those questions, in my experience, lead somewhere worth going.

What tarot actually does — and what it doesn't

Let me be direct about this, because I think honesty here is both rare and essential.

Tarot is not magic in the sense that it will rearrange external circumstances to deliver your ex back to you. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling you something I want no part of selling.

What tarot is — in the hands of someone who has worked with it for decades, who understands the energetic architecture of human psychology, who reads not just the cards but the person sitting in the energy of those cards — is one of the most precise diagnostic tools I know for understanding what is actually happening beneath the story someone is telling themselves about their situation.

It reads energy. Present energy, primarily — the living, breathing, right-now energy of the situation as it actually is, rather than as you fear it is or hope it is. It reveals patterns that have been operating beneath consciousness. It surfaces the hidden dynamics that neither party in a relationship typically has the perspective to see from inside it.

Here is what I am specifically looking for when I read for someone navigating a separation:

The energy between you and your ex right now — not what it was, not what you hope it might become, but what is genuinely present in the connection at this moment. Is there living energy here, or is what remains primarily the residue of something that has completed itself? This is one of the most important questions a reading can answer, and it requires radical honesty to deliver it and to receive it.

The unspoken dynamics that contributed to the ending — the things that neither person was able to say clearly, the patterns that both parties brought to the relationship and neither fully acknowledged, the places where the connection was genuinely strong and the places where it was operating on hope rather than reality. Cards like The Tower, The Devil, or the Five of Cups don't appear to punish — they appear to illuminate. To show what needs to be seen before anything healthy can be built on top of it.

Your ex's current emotional state — with an important caveat. I am not reading your ex's chart without their knowledge or claiming to have direct telepathic access to their inner life. What I am reading is the energetic impression of that person as they exist within the field of your reading. It is meaningful information. It is also filtered through your energy, which is why your own state of clarity matters so much to the quality of what the cards can show.

What action — if any — is aligned with the present energy — not what action you want to take, not what feels most urgent, but what the cards suggest is most likely to create genuine opening rather than close it. Sometimes The Fool appears and the energy says: reach out, take the risk, the timing is alive. Sometimes The High Priestess appears and the energy says: wait. Be still. What you are trying to force will not be forced. Sometimes — and I deliver this with every ounce of care I have — the cards show that the most loving and powerful action available is to fully release this person and redirect that energy toward your own becoming.

That last message is the hardest to hear. It is also, in my experience, the one that most consistently leads people toward something genuinely better than what they were holding onto.

The cards I watch most carefully in love readings — and what they actually mean

The Lovers — people see this card and immediately want it to mean reconciliation is coming. And it can mean that. But The Lovers is more precisely about choice — conscious, deliberate, values-aligned choice. When it appears in a reading about reconnection, it is often asking: are you choosing this person, or are you choosing the feeling of being chosen? Are you choosing the relationship as it actually was, or as you remember it at its best? The distinction matters enormously.

The Two of Cups — this is the card of genuine mutual recognition. Of two people meeting each other at the same frequency with equal openness. When it appears, there is real energy in the connection worth paying attention to. When it is notably absent from a reading about someone asking urgently about reconciliation, that absence is also information.

The Tower — this is the card most people are afraid of in a love reading and the one I find most clarifying. The Tower does not mean destruction for its own sake. It means that something was built on a foundation that could not hold — and that the collapse, however painful, is ultimately the most honest thing that could have happened. When The Tower appears in a reading about a breakup, I look at it not as an obstacle to reconciliation but as a map of what would need to be genuinely rebuilt — not patched, not ignored, not talked around — before a healthy reconnection becomes possible.

The Hermit — when this card appears in the position representing your ex's current energy, it is telling you something specific and important: this person needs solitude. Not as a rejection of you, but as a genuine internal requirement. Reaching out now, however carefully, however lovingly, will not land. The Hermit is doing inner work that cannot be interrupted from the outside. What it requires of you is the hardest thing: patience without guarantee.

The Star — this is the card of genuine hope, and I mean that without sentimentality. The Star appears after difficulty — after The Tower, after loss, after the kind of darkness that makes you question whether light exists. It signals that healing is genuinely underway. That something is rebuilding. That the energy of the situation, while not resolved, is moving toward resolution rather than away from it. When The Star appears, I tell clients: tend your own garden. Do the work on yourself. The connection you're hoping for — whether with this person or with someone even more aligned — is in the field of possibility. But it requires you to be genuinely ready for it, not just desperate for it.

A ritual I give clients who are ready to shift the energy — not manipulate it

I want to be precise about the distinction here, because it matters profoundly to me and to the integrity of this work.

There is a category of ritual that attempts to manipulate another person's free will — to bend their energy toward you regardless of what they genuinely want or need. I do not offer those rituals. I do not believe in them energetically, and I do not believe they produce the outcomes people hope for even when they appear to "work," because a connection built through energetic manipulation rather than genuine resonance will not hold.

What I do offer is something different: rituals designed to shift your own energy. To clear what has accumulated — the grievance, the fear, the desperation that, paradoxically, creates an energetic field that pushes away rather than attracts. To return you to the frequency of someone who is genuinely open to love rather than someone who is urgently, anxiously reaching for a specific outcome.

This is the ritual I most often give:

Find a quiet evening when you will not be disturbed. Light a candle — red for passion and intention, or white for clarity and truth, depending on where you are emotionally. Place in front of you something that genuinely represents the connection at its best — not its most painful, not its most desperate, but its most real.

Sit with the candle. Breathe deliberately — slower than feels natural, longer exhales than inhales. This is not decorative. This is physiological. You are moving your nervous system out of the sympathetic state — the fight-or-flight, the anxious reaching — and into the parasympathetic state, where genuine energetic work becomes possible.

When you feel genuinely quiet — not performed quiet, but actual stillness — pull one card. Not to answer a specific question. Just to see what is present. To let your subconscious, which understands more than your conscious mind is currently allowing, show you something.

Sit with whatever happens. Don't interpret immediately. Don't reach for your phone to look it up. Just let the image and your response to it coexist for a few minutes.

What I have found, in years of recommending this practice, is that the card that happens in genuine stillness tells people something they already knew and hadn't yet let themselves acknowledge. That knowing — faced honestly rather than avoided — is the beginning of every genuine shift I have ever witnessed in someone's energetic field around love.

What I most want you to understand before you take any action

The energy you bring to any attempt at reconnection is not separate from the outcome of that attempt. It is one of its primary determinants.

Someone who reaches out from a place of genuine clarity, genuine self-possession, genuine openness to whatever response comes — creates a fundamentally different energetic encounter than someone who reaches out from desperation, from fear of abandonment, from the particular breathless urgency of someone who has decided that this specific outcome is the only acceptable one.

Your ex can feel the difference. Not necessarily consciously — most people cannot articulate what they are responding to in the energy of a message or a conversation — but they feel it. In the same way you feel the difference between someone who genuinely wants to see you and someone who needs something from you. The felt quality is entirely different, even if the words are identical.

This is why the work I do is never simply "how do you get them back." It is always: how do you return to yourself — fully, honestly, without the story that you are incomplete without this person — so that if reconnection happens, it happens between two whole people rather than between someone whole and someone desperate.

Because a reconnection between two whole people has a genuine chance of building something that lasts.

A reconnection between wholeness and desperation is almost always temporary. Because the wholeness will eventually recognize what it is dealing with and pull back. And the desperation will intensify in response. And the cycle continues until someone has the courage to break it.

I would rather help you break it now. Before it costs you more.

What a personalized reading actually gives you — that no article can

Everything I have written here is true, and it is also general.

Your situation is specific. Your history with this person is specific. The particular energetic entanglement between you — what was genuine, what was projected, what was still possible and what had genuinely completed itself — is specific in ways that cannot be addressed by a guide written for everyone.

When I read for you personally — when your cards are drawn in the context of your specific energy, your specific history, your specific question about this specific person — what emerges is always more precise, more surprising, and more genuinely useful than anything a general framework can offer.

I will tell you what I see with complete honesty. I will tell you where I see genuine opening and where I see a door that has closed. I will tell you what the energy of the other person appears to be carrying right now, and I will tell you what I believe — based on decades of reading energy fields and human patterns — is the action most likely to create genuine possibility rather than push it further away.

And if the cards show me that the most loving and powerful thing available to you right now is not reconnection with this person but release — I will tell you that too. With all the care and all the directness I have, I will tell you that too.

Because in my experience, the readings that change lives are not the ones that confirm what someone was hoping to hear.

They are the ones that tell the truth clearly enough that something in the person finally stops fighting it — and begins, quietly, to move.

The love you are looking for is real. The question is whether it lives in the past — or in what is coming.

The cards know the difference.