I am far from the perfect poker player. On the felt, I’m patient and pick my spots well. If I’m catching no cards at all, I can literally fold for 40 hours straight. I have a better than average grasp of the mathematics and odds. My intuition and player profiling are my strongest suit. But I have faults.
First there is my bank roll management. My spending habits and my drug habits come in waves. When I hit a few good weeks in a row, I tell myself I deserve a small break, a vacation. I’ve had high points in my BR a few times, 25k, 18k, nothing ever mega huge. Before the start of summer, I had a healthy 12K to begin my summer with. That 12K was probably enough to continue grinding without too much worry. 2.2K of that went to pay some debt, and I spent 5K on a trip to South America with my then girlfriend. (To be fair, she was the love of my life.) When I came back to the States to build up the BR again, of course I run bad on the felt.
I don’t tilt at the poker table, I don’t spew in the pits. Instead, regressing into depression makes me tilt at life. I go on benders. Back in the day, it used to be alcohol, heroine, and pot. Nowadays, I try to just stick to the pot.
I had a romantic notion of how human beings should treat each other with kindness. I wanted for the longest time, to believe that people are intrinsically good. I grew up reading comic books, and idolized superheroes as they were selfless, giving without asking for anything in return. I thought that was how people were supposed to treat each other. As I grew up, I realized that those books were more fiction than I originally thought. All people have selfish intention in the majority of things they do. This notion compounds my depression.
My reality is not aligned with the consensus reality. My perception of things are different than the average person. No, I don’t see pink elephants floating down the street. What I experience is kind of like being on marijuana, but without the feeling of highness. It’s a bit hard to explain. I’m talking about the heightened sensitivity to touch, smell, feelings, but just to communicational cues (which can be body language or verbal speak). I can be aware of someones shyness, awkwardness, excitement, etc. even if they are trying to hide it. I can usually tell when a person is being devious or lying, and often that makes my life more difficult. Yea, basically to most people, I’m just a nutjob. It’s in alignment with my anxiety.
This is who I am. A little bit crazy, and far from perfect.
First there is my bank roll management. My spending habits and my drug habits come in waves. When I hit a few good weeks in a row, I tell myself I deserve a small break, a vacation. I’ve had high points in my BR a few times, 25k, 18k, nothing ever mega huge. Before the start of summer, I had a healthy 12K to begin my summer with. That 12K was probably enough to continue grinding without too much worry. 2.2K of that went to pay some debt, and I spent 5K on a trip to South America with my then girlfriend. (To be fair, she was the love of my life.) When I came back to the States to build up the BR again, of course I run bad on the felt.
I don’t tilt at the poker table, I don’t spew in the pits. Instead, regressing into depression makes me tilt at life. I go on benders. Back in the day, it used to be alcohol, heroine, and pot. Nowadays, I try to just stick to the pot.
I had a romantic notion of how human beings should treat each other with kindness. I wanted for the longest time, to believe that people are intrinsically good. I grew up reading comic books, and idolized superheroes as they were selfless, giving without asking for anything in return. I thought that was how people were supposed to treat each other. As I grew up, I realized that those books were more fiction than I originally thought. All people have selfish intention in the majority of things they do. This notion compounds my depression.
My reality is not aligned with the consensus reality. My perception of things are different than the average person. No, I don’t see pink elephants floating down the street. What I experience is kind of like being on marijuana, but without the feeling of highness. It’s a bit hard to explain. I’m talking about the heightened sensitivity to touch, smell, feelings, but just to communicational cues (which can be body language or verbal speak). I can be aware of someones shyness, awkwardness, excitement, etc. even if they are trying to hide it. I can usually tell when a person is being devious or lying, and often that makes my life more difficult. Yea, basically to most people, I’m just a nutjob. It’s in alignment with my anxiety.
This is who I am. A little bit crazy, and far from perfect.