Letting Go of the Grind Without Letting Go of Myself

There’s been a slow shift happening inside me — not loud, but steady. I’ve realized I don’t want to play poker every day. And not because I’m losing. Not because I’m burnt out. But because it no longer feels like me.

Poker has given me financial stability this year. My outgoings match what I’ve made, and that’s no small feat. I’ve grown through it — developed discipline, patience, emotional regulation. It’s taught me more than I expected.

But it’s not my purpose.

It’s started to feel like a job I never meant to have. Waking early, loading up tournaments, forcing myself to play when I don’t want to. It’s become something I do because it gives me an answer to the question, “What do you do?”

And maybe that’s the real thing I’m shedding — not the game, but the need to have an identity wrapped around it.

I think I’d rather play once a week. Dive into a few meaningful tournaments now and then. Study a bit more. Play better, not more. That way, it becomes something sustainable. Enjoyable. A skill I use — not a mask I wear.

This morning I didn’t want to play. I wanted to rest. So I did.

And for once, I didn’t feel guilty.

I’m starting to believe that rest isn’t nothing. It’s preparation. It’s soil.

And maybe the most important thing I’m learning isn’t how to win a game — it’s how to let go of the grind without letting go of myself.