The night that it dropped clearly again—@Dusk —I stared at my phone screen, and the first sentence that popped into my mind was:
“Are you starting again, aren’t you?”
Then, right after that, another softer voice: “Don’t move yet—adjust your breathing first.”
I put the phone face down on the bedside table, but I still couldn’t help burying my face in the pillow. The voices in my head surged one after another—“Should I cut a little first?” “Wait—will it keep falling if I wait?” “Last time, I hesitated and only regretted it afterward.” Every line came with a touch of urgency, like someone was gently tapping my chest. #dusk Later, I slowly realized that what really feels uncomfortable is often not the price itself, but the urge to immediately “do something” to end the discomfort. When the impulse hits, my body tightens first; my fingers, without thinking, start tapping to open the trading page; and my heart rate jumps faster than usual by half a beat. I tried turning off all notifications. I also forced myself to wash dishes or go downstairs for a walk. But I found that simply avoiding it only made those voices echo louder in my mind.
Once, I sat on a chair and typed those self-talk lines into a notes app one by one. After I admitted it, the conversations didn’t feel so sharp anymore. $DUSK I began letting myself finish saying all the impulsive things first, and then asked one question: “Have you said everything? What do you still want to do now?”
Recently, the way I handle it really is a little different. When a drop comes, I don’t rush to draw conclusions about myself anymore. Instead, I give myself a short window of time—I do just one thing: fully record what my body is feeling in the moment and what’s being said in my head. After I’m done, then I decide whether to check the market or whether to take action.
I can’t say I’m completely steady yet. Sometimes my heart still races for a few minutes. Sometimes I still repeat opening the same message again. But at least now, I know those conversations belong to me, not to the price being forced on me. I don’t treat them as an enemy that I must eliminate right away anymore—I treat them as signals that need to be heard. $BTC
My current assessment of how I handle my emotions is this: I’m more willing than before to pause and listen to myself, and I’m also less likely to be swept away immediately by the first wave of impulse. I’m still practicing, but the direction is clear. $ETH
“Are you starting again, aren’t you?”
Then, right after that, another softer voice: “Don’t move yet—adjust your breathing first.”
I put the phone face down on the bedside table, but I still couldn’t help burying my face in the pillow. The voices in my head surged one after another—“Should I cut a little first?” “Wait—will it keep falling if I wait?” “Last time, I hesitated and only regretted it afterward.” Every line came with a touch of urgency, like someone was gently tapping my chest. #dusk Later, I slowly realized that what really feels uncomfortable is often not the price itself, but the urge to immediately “do something” to end the discomfort. When the impulse hits, my body tightens first; my fingers, without thinking, start tapping to open the trading page; and my heart rate jumps faster than usual by half a beat. I tried turning off all notifications. I also forced myself to wash dishes or go downstairs for a walk. But I found that simply avoiding it only made those voices echo louder in my mind.
Once, I sat on a chair and typed those self-talk lines into a notes app one by one. After I admitted it, the conversations didn’t feel so sharp anymore. $DUSK I began letting myself finish saying all the impulsive things first, and then asked one question: “Have you said everything? What do you still want to do now?”
Recently, the way I handle it really is a little different. When a drop comes, I don’t rush to draw conclusions about myself anymore. Instead, I give myself a short window of time—I do just one thing: fully record what my body is feeling in the moment and what’s being said in my head. After I’m done, then I decide whether to check the market or whether to take action.
I can’t say I’m completely steady yet. Sometimes my heart still races for a few minutes. Sometimes I still repeat opening the same message again. But at least now, I know those conversations belong to me, not to the price being forced on me. I don’t treat them as an enemy that I must eliminate right away anymore—I treat them as signals that need to be heard. $BTC
My current assessment of how I handle my emotions is this: I’m more willing than before to pause and listen to myself, and I’m also less likely to be swept away immediately by the first wave of impulse. I’m still practicing, but the direction is clear. $ETH