Why I Sabotaged Everything

I’ve realised something that makes so much sense I almost can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier.

I wasn’t just randomly sabotaging school, jobs, poker, and everything else I cared about.

I was doing it because succeeding felt like betrayal.

Not of myself.
But of my mother.

Because in her eyes, any success I had without her involvement meant I didn’t need her.
And if I didn’t need her, she couldn’t control me.
And if she couldn’t control me, she didn’t matter.

So she demonised everything that gave me freedom.
Especially poker.

Because poker was mine.
Not hers.
She couldn’t twist it. She couldn’t be part of it. She couldn’t offer fake help or passive-aggressive sabotage disguised as support.

It scared her.
And so, she made it feel like I was doing something wrong.
That every win was abandonment.
That every independent step was selfish, dangerous, immoral.

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And the worst part?

It worked.

I internalised it.
So I sabotaged everything.
Not because I was weak.
But because it was the only power I had left.

If being successful meant being owned, I’d rather destroy it all.
It was my last act of rebellion.
The only form of control I had left.

How fucked up is that?

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But now I see it.

I didn’t ruin things because I didn’t care.
I ruined them because I cared too much — and I didn’t know how to separate my worth from her grip.

Now I do.

Now I know I can succeed and still be mine.
I can win a tournament and not feel like I’m betraying someone.
I can do well in life without needing her blessing — or fearing her resentment.

I’m not sabotaging anymore.
I’m living.

And this time, I get to own it.