Not Just the Cards

June 01, 2025

Some days, it’s not just the hands I lose — it’s what they represent.

Today, I made the right moves. I played the math. I stayed disciplined. I kept showing up.
And still… I lost.

Sevens vs. Ace-Jack: flipped deep in a major — gone.
Nines vs. Jacks in a bounty builder turbo: over-shoved with 20 bigs, gone.
Bubble pressure hands: played smart, walked away empty.

And it’s not that the individual hands were bad. They weren’t.
It’s the accumulation that gets me.

🧠 When Poker Feeds the Inner Critic

Some days, these losses just roll off.
But today, they hit deeper.
Today, they touched that place that still believes “I’m not enough.”

And I know — rationally — that’s not true.
But emotionally? After a day of grief, of sitting with the pain of not being held, of never really having my needs met… poker just mirrored it back to me.

The randomness. The helplessness.
The longing to be rewarded for doing things right — and still watching it fall apart.

That’s not about cards.
That’s about life.

💔 The Weight I Was Already Carrying

I’ve been sitting with the grief of never being held.
Not properly. Not consistently.
I’ve had to be my own comfort for as long as I can remember.

And it’s exhausting.

So when the flips don’t go my way, it’s not just about the chips.
It’s about everything they reflect.

“Even when I show up well… I don’t win.”
“Even when I try… it’s not enough.”

That’s not tilt. That’s trauma.

And I’m naming it, not to drown in it — but to move through it.

🎯 And Then I Hit the 8

Later in the same tournament, I shoved Ace-9 off for seven bigs into a short-stacked UTG opener with a $20 bounty.
He flipped over Aces. Of course he did.
But somehow — I hit a straight on the turn. I won.

And then again — Ace-8 offsuit, I shoved for eight bigs.
Called by Ace-5 suited. Then Ace-King suited behind that.
And somehow — I hit an 8.

I didn’t celebrate wildly. I didn’t feel redeemed.
But I felt something shift.

Not everything goes against me.
Not every hand ends in silence.
Sometimes, I hit the 8.
And that’s enough — for now.

🕊️ The Real Game I’m Playing

I’m not just playing poker.
I’m playing the long game of healing.
The game of staying regulated when life (and variance) keeps saying “Not yet.”

And I’m not broken because it gets to me.
I’m not weak because I feel it more on some days.

I’m just someone who’s lost more than his fair share —
But still keeps sitting down,
Still keeps showing up,
Still keeps hoping for the next card to fall in his favour.

And sometimes, it does.