Tag: success

Happiness in mediocrity and the curse of lost success

Next to me at work is a woman in her early 60s and about to retire permanently.

She is, by most accounts, the typical decent person. Friendly, kind of a tomboy, involved in a serious relationship, has a well-rounded overall life, and with job duties similar to mine.

Most people wouldn’t think much of that (because it sounds so ordinary). I, on the other hand, see her as someone who stands out more than most.

Why? Because she seems genuinely happy and content with herself and her life. I can hear it in her voice during the occasional business related phone calls that we have there.

And I admit that it makes me envious.

Here is someone who’s never done anything that would be considered extraordinary by more materialistic standards. Yet her life is the emotionally healthy one that most wish they could have.

I imagine that a main part of that contentedness is that she’s accomplished about all that she ever hoped to. And that’s where I think her life deviates the most from mine: while my potential likely has a higher ceiling than hers…..I, on the other hand, have failed so badly to hold on to my own accomplishments (or to ever get close to that stage again after all these years.)

Up until now, when it comes to “is it better to have loved and lost than never loved at all” dilemma, I was always on the loved and lost side. But at this point, I’m not so sure.

Because at the moment, I know I’d be much better off if I didn’t want to live up to my past standards again. Especially since I’m the depressive type.

When you’re not emotionally healthy enough to handle losing your success, then it may be best just to never succeed much at all. And I so wish that wasn’t the case.

But I’m a living example of it.

A flashback to a past accomplishment

Even though this blog is my outlet for expressing the frustrations and difficulties that I don’t subject those in my “real life” to, occasionally it’s healthy to bring up something positive from the past too. Especially since writing about it gives my mind a short break from the mental hell that I’ve often been in for many years.

I’ve shared old baseball stories here briefly before. But while I’ll always be a baseball player at heart, a lot of my focus switched to tennis and pickup hoops during my teen years.

Was never a natural at either, but I was a good enough athlete to still improve over the years. Ended up being on the tennis team (and one of the top seeds on the team) throughout high school, despite how I was just a self-taught hack who didn’t have the polish and experience to beat the country-club type kids who’d been taking lessons their whole life, etc etc.

The perfect example of “that” type was our high school’s #1 player when I was a sophomore and he was a senior. Roberto. He destroyed most people in the area and went on to compete for the state championship. A big guy with a huge serve and nasty strong groundstrokes.

You watched him play and thought about how that was a level that most people never reached.

So when I went to college (a huge university), I continued to play recreationally all the time. By my senior year there, I’d honed my baseliner-esque skills as sharply as they could get. But when I entered the yearly student tennis competition, I never assumed that anything too memorable would come from it. Cause there were always a few people around who were just too advanced and skilled for me to handle.

That was what made the following six weeks so surprising.

Here’s how the competition was done: everyone who signed up was randomly thrown into groups of six. You played the other five people in your group, and then the top two (from each six) would advance to a single elimination tournament.

I breezed through those first five matches. And when the tournament bracket came out (which had about 60 or 65 players in it), I noticed that whoever set it up must’ve noticed how I and one other player had dominated so far. Because even though there were no formal rankings, you could tell that I was unofficially the #2 seed in the tournament. While a very familiar name was on top as the #1 seed:

Roberto.

Yep, there he was. Probably in med school at the university already or something.

Both of us kept advancing. By the time the semifinals came around, I was still in my best form and hadn’t even lost a set throughout any rounds.

Won my semifinal in straight sets too. So as I was on my way to the finals…..this huge tournament that I’d never come close to winning anything similar before….you know what’s next, right?

After 10 years of my game slowly improving step by step, it was time to see if I could come full circle and beat the guy who was the standard for tennis excellence growing up.

However…..once I got to the match, there was just one problem: the other player wasn’t Roberto. I’d just assumed that he’d win his semifinal; hadn’t even checked. But this other guy had just knocked him out.

Bet you didn’t see that coming?

Anyway, it didn’t even matter to me. I was there to try and win the tournament; there was no tying my ego to having it be directly through him.

Which I then did. In three tough sets, I pulled it out and won the championship. To absolutely no fanfare and no one watching, I’d just accomplished something that I never thought would happen.

I’d beaten the guy who beat Roberto and (out of over 200 players at the beginning) was the last one standing.

While this wasn’t the athletic moment that meant the most to me (as much as I respect the tennis court, those will always be baseball)…….it was definitely the most impressive.

I really miss that feeling. Success. Feeling like I was at the top of something. Pride. Accomplishment. It’s something I haven’t had for so many years now (and especially into the beginning of this midlife crisis).

Can only hope that someday, I can put together some life redemption that turns me back into that person. Even if it’s just for a short while.

Because I miss him.

Shawshank and the “hope” debate: sorry Red

One of my favorite movies is the Shawshank Redemption. For those who may not know it, it’s based on the prison life of a wrongly convicted murderer (Andy) and how he eventually gains his freedom after about 20 years of (very) slowly digging a tunnel out of his cell.

A famous scene from that movie involves Andy talking to his best inmate friend “Red” about hope. And Red is against having it there, as he feels that hope is a dangerous thing that can drive a man crazy inside prison walls .

Well, Red, I have to disagree with you (just as Andy did). As someone who’s been in his own figurative prison for about that long, I can relate to the situation some.

(And no, I’m not claiming that could compare to being in Shawshank!) But the key similarity is how any seemingly endless prison can still ruin your life.

Unless you find a way to get out.

And I can tell you that the main thing that keeps me going, as I hit new life low after low (another one today), is the hope that the future will be much better and include my own “redemption” of regaining my success of many years ago. Having that happen would involve plenty of aspects both in and out of my own control. So the odds may not be very good.

But if there is ANY realistic chance…..you have to hold on tight to it. Otherwise, you’re doomed to stay in despair from now on.

The good news is that last week, there was a money making opportunity here in my city that I hadn’t seen in ages. While it was way too high stakes for me to go after (given my current situation), just the fact that it was available to me was a jaw dropper.

I thought, well, if something like that can pop up so unexpectedly now…..maybe when I’m ready for it in 5 or 10 years, similar ones will then too.

Is there any guarantee that will happen though? Not even close. There is no way to know if it were practically a one time opportunity, or if they might start to appear more regularly now and/or much further down the road. So it’s quite possible that I won’t ever be able to get out of this corner that I’ve painted myself into over the last 15 years.

But I still have to do my best to hope. Even if the outlook was still as bleak as possible, there’s no other way to maintain any focus on doing your part to improve your chances (and find a little positivity in an otherwise highly depressed life).

Just ask Red. Without Andy’s hope, he would’ve likely been doomed.

“It’s an affair of the…..mind”

I was just watching a flashback compilation of entertainment from the year 1983. A song by Rick Springfield that I hadn’t heard in awhile came on for a few seconds. “You better know it’s an affaaaair of the heart. Clap…..clap. It’s an affair of the heart”. Love that song. Decided to click on his discography to see how high it charted back then, which led to bumping into his wikipedia page. And finding something quite sad and troubling.

Springfield has pretty much had success his entire adult life. A minor hit album in the early ’70s when he was just starting out, then a regular TV actor for awhile when his music career fizzled temporarily, to becoming a pop superstar during the first half of the ’80s with a huge catalog of great music and big hits, and then back to acting (and even some successful musicals on Broadway).

But while his avenues for success kept changing over a period of many decades, there was one constant in his life: deep, suicidal depression. Which still remains.

When he was 17, he hanged himself (and only lived because the knot broke just in time). Then 50 years later (in 2017), he talked about how he was very close to ending his life again.

And as all of us who’ve dealt with lifetime adult depression know, those 50 years in between his deepest suicidal attempts and thoughts probably weren’t much better for him emotionally.

Here is a guy who always found a way to stay ahead (over a period of many decades, which is naturally so tough to do in show business). And was adored by countless fans. But when your mind is incapable of turning the corner and learning to enjoy life, even those things don’t help nearly enough.

This was a needed reminder for my own situation at the moment, though. I’ve talked so much about how I need to regain enough success to feel better about how I’ve handled life overall (or else I just can’t see myself ever turning any corners emotionally). But I can’t forget how having success didn’t help me achieve that emotional health when I was in my 20s, and it won’t be enough now either.

So if it’s not a well-rounded recovery, it probably won’t matter. I have to be sure to keep my eye on that ball. Achieve a happiness and healthy comfort level of life that balances more than just your career ups and downs.

Or even if I do get back on track, I’ll have the same demons at age 70 that Springfield still does today. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

Success of the past

I miss that feeling.

Drove by the apartment building where I lived during my 20s during my first stint in the city here that I’ll be leaving soon, and one of those times flashed in my memory. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned any stories from my advantage gambling past here, so here is a quick one.

It was the first round of the 1997 NBA playoffs. Had been less than a year since I graduated college, so I was still getting my feet wet in the real world. Though as an avid sports fan my whole life, I felt a lot more seasoned than age 22 in that regard.

Normally a pro’s sports betting advantage comes from a more statistical approach that’s based on the current “market” of the betting lines. It’s usually way too difficult to predict what’s going to happen in sports, so that was not something I tried to do very often.

This was a rare exception to that rule.

The series between the Seattle Supersonics and Phoenix Suns was going to a deciding final game, and the underdog Suns had barely missed a chance to win the series at home in an exhausting overtime battle in the prior game. Seattle was a team that you beat by matching their high energy and competitive level (moreso than with precision on the court with your gameplan), and the Suns had given their all throughout the series so far….only to come up just short of finishing the Sonics off.

Now they had to travel back to Seattle and try to come up with one more big effort against a superior team, and there wasn’t going to be anything left in the tank, either physically or emotionally. I think even the Phoenix players knew it.

Seattle was favored by 9 points in that deciding game, and that seemed like a lot of points on the surface (given how competitive the series had been). But given everything described above, I knew the Suns would likely have a tough time staying anywhere close.

I found the best deals that I could on every Seattle way imaginable. To win the game, to win by more than 9, to win by as many as possible. Probably would’ve even taken their mascot to beat up the Suns’ mascot that day if I could’ve.

As the game came on that day and I watched the Sonics’ awesome player intros (bobbing my head to the music), you could feel what was going to happen. It’s now 23 years later, and to this day I’ve never felt as confident in my prediction of a basketball game as that one.

If you’d like to relive what I felt at that time, watch from about 4:10 to 6:10 here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8XD_5kLR2U

Seattle won easily, 116-92. You can imagine my look and feeling of satisfaction afterward.

But that feeling had nothing to do with a gambling “high”; it was all about feeling that I had an edge. Not just in this aspect, but in life as well. Even though it was only one game, it felt representative of what I could accomplish as a whole.

And for the next 10 years, that turned out to be true. Before I lost my way ever since.

As you might guess, I spend too much time thinking about the past. Maybe it’s because I hope that at some point, that will spark me to relive it eventually.

The continued quest for freedom

I’ve talked some in recent months about having to juggle the various career options that will soon be in front of me. But I’ve never really mentioned just how much I want to lean toward working on my own again.

For those who know me, that is no surprise. I’ve never been the 9 to 5 type, because that means dealing with…..well, people. And more importantly, bosses. While I’ve always gotten along well with anyone around me in an office environment, the people thing still isn’t for me.

And, well, bosses. Probably shouldn’t even get started. Do I have a problem with authority? You could say so. But it’s not because I can’t handle being told what to do; it’s because so many human beings with power don’t have the character qualities necessary to handle it well enough. And I’m not the type who can easily sit back and let poor treatment just roll off my back.

The other main reason that the real work world isn’t for me is that the strengths of my skill set are perfect for making a living on my own. Unfortunately, as anyone who’s read this blog knows, my faults can just as easily destroy that advantage. Still, it’s always felt like that balancing act is what’s meant for me. Always will be.

So, the good news lately is that I’ve made some strides toward having that freedom again. Recent weeks have been very helpful. And I actually should have done a good bit better; a great trading opportunity wasn’t nearly capitalized on enough. But, the reason for that is that this particular trade was more of a gamble worth taking (as opposed to something where I had a safer advantage). Given my current situation, I felt like I needed to play it more conservatively. Should have done that in a different way that allowed for more upside, though.

As you can see, my world is still an ever-changing mess of ebbs and flows, ups and downs.

Also still have too many of my destructive urges. I’ve battled through them (and, at times, gotten away with them) lately, but that still doesn’t make it ok. I HAVE to find a way to have consistently better discipline. Just being so-so that way won’t cut it. Especially since I have a little more to lose now than I did not too long ago.

The life doors I need to get through aren’t open yet, but now they’ve been unlocked and cracked again. And it’s up to me to take advantage of this (likely) final chance to get through them.

Because I can’t afford to fail one last time. Either financially or psychologically

Self-therapy, part 2. Finding happiness, and the main barrier with starting that journey

First….yep, I finally added an image to my thumbnail. And yes, it took forever. But hey, at least it was less than a year 😛

Now, onto business.

Yesterday I mentioned how the only chance to salvage the second half of my life was to learn how to be ok with happiness. You can also include making substantial progress with the other aspects of my depression; that goes without saying.

This would be a very difficult and long road for anyone. But in my spot, there’s something else that may need resolved before I can even get very far. And the problem is, this may be an issue that doesn’t have a very good solution:

Becoming successful again with my career and finances. Or, at least recovering much of what I lost to start with.

I know that the general reaction to that will be “but much of life, success, and happiness isn’t about money!” Yes, that is usually true. But you have to understand how my entire adulthood has been centered around supporting myself that way. It’s not about having lots of actual $; it’s about how this a core part of my identity, and always will be. Not to mention the pride that goes along with succeeding at being your own boss.

So as long as I have failed in that aspect of life, I will continue to feel like I’ve failed overall. And could you really find happiness with that always lingering in the back of your mind?

If building success back the “right” way was going to take, say, just a few years, then I could manage that. But there lies the problem: my current lack of opportunities make that highly unlikely. This I’ve discussed before, and it presents a major barrier (not just for my finances, but even moreso for my state of mind). Because while I’m ok with having some patience, I’m not alright with grinding away until I’m 65 to come full circle.

This means that I may have to still take some bigger chances. I emphasize MAY, because I’ll have to think some more about whether or not it’s worth it (and the consequences if that wouldn’t work out).

These wouldn’t be the same hopeless larger risks (done for just a high) that I referred to in my last entry. It would be about focused, realistic chances to land just the bigger score(s) necessary. And then if that happens, returning to the “right” ways overall and entering my rebuilding phase with a clear conscience.

It would have to be with my financial market trading, because advantage gambling with an edge (in the current environment) has to be much more of a slow build for my situation. I’m sure you’re not surprised that the casinos don’t make it possible to intelligently crush them for large amounts overnight.

The good news is that if I go that route, I have the ability to find trades with incredible short-term potential. The bad news is that I missed out on two amazing ones in just the last year (one of which I blogged about), and they aren’t easy at all to come up with. So I may have already missed the boat. I can’t count on replicating those results anytime soon.

But I still may have to give it a shot.

The lone person who might understand…

I’ve told plenty of stories about how gaining and losing success is not something most people relate to. And how the particular way it happened to me is an even more unique path. One that even experienced therapists couldn’t put a finger on. Sometimes I feel entirely alone in that world.

But there IS one exception.

I once read a story about an extremely successful pro sports bettor who had begun supporting himself that way sometime in the 1970s. By the time he was in his 40s, he had a net worth of almost 10 million dollars. Was already starting to put his kids through college. I’m sure he felt like he was living the dream, and always would.

Then came the 1985 World Series. And that was when his life changed.

The St Louis Cardinals were playing the Kansas City Royals, and the Cardinals were a 2 to 1 favorite to win the series. This gentleman wagered $2 million to profit $1 million on the Cardinals. Notice the first parallel here to my story? No one should ever risk 20% of their net worth on a bet like that. Or even close. I imagine that he was too blinded by his past profits to care enough about making those kinds of mistakes. Something I know quite well. Continuing on:

St Louis won 3 of the first 4 games. For those who aren’t familiar with American sports, the World Series is the best of 7 (meaning that you keep playing games until one team has won four times). So, the Cardinals were one win away from the title. And that was despite one of their key players suffering a fluke injury early in the series. So, while this guy had risked too much on the Cardinals, he had a really good chance of getting away with it this time.

They lost Game 5. Then, in Game 6, the Cards were ahead 1-0 going to the bottom of the 9th inning. Three outs away. And that was when one infamous moment in time changed everything:

Kansas City’s first hitter should have been out, but a terrible call by the umpire left him safe at first base. That call is still talked about to this day in the baseball world.

KC came back and won the game 2-1. Then they destroyed the Cardinals in game 7, winning the title. And costing that bettor an agonizing $2 million loss. But hey, despite all that, he still had a net worth of $8 million. Time to move on, try and get past it, learn from your mistake, and so on, right?

Well, the guy never recovered.

When he was interviewed about all of this about 10 years later, he was in the basement of a modest house with baseball games on everywhere. Trying to paste together some new success a thousand bucks or two at a time. Wondering if he was ever going to have enough capital again. How he’d pay back borrowed money. His kids were trying to be as supportive as they could (not financially, but any other way possible). They had so much appreciation for what he’d done for them growing up, but now their dad hadn’t been the same person for a long time.

And they didn’t know if he ever would be. Once things turned downhill, his bad habits trumped his skills from then on. The overbetting that used to help his results was now a highly destructive problem (as it always will be at some point, no matter how good you are). It didn’t matter how talented he was at his craft, or how many years he’d done so well in the past.

Now that I’ve been in the same boat for such a long time, I wish I could find that story again. Can’t even see a trace of it on the internet. He’s the only person I’ve ever read about who so closely mirrors my own strengths/weaknesses and rise/fall.

I’d love to talk to him. Let him know that I get it. Hear the rest of his story. Find out if he ever got things turned around.

Before it’s too late for me to do the same.

Misery does “not” love company

While I realize how that title cliche…without my adjustment, of course….. partially implies that some unhappy people want others to be miserable too (to feel better about themselves), I have never agreed with the other interpretation that miserable people want to actually be around other miserable ones. IME, those who are unhappy and depressed are more likely to push others away (either directly or indirectly). And personally, I am never comfortable with my issues or any negativity adversely affecting others.

Back when I was doing well in my career, this wasn’t quite as much of a problem. Some of us few people who earn a living at either financial market trading or advantage gambling tend to meet each other eventually at some point. It’s a fairly unique (and very difficult) combination skillset, mindset, and knowledge mix that most don’t possess, and so there’s an underlying respect for anyone who can support themselves that way.

Unless you mess it up, that is.

You see, my friends from that walk of life have not dealt with most of my problems and failures. They may not have the most healthy overall mindset and ways of enjoying their daily existence (even the ones who are married with kids), but at least they are still able to keep their edge. Both careerwise and overall in life.

So when I started to have my worst times in recent years (the ones that, for the first time, I haven’t been able to dig out of), that made the rest of my life worse as well. Beyond anything financially. Not only was there the hurt of losing what I had, but there’s also the shame of being the only failure among my mix of friends and confidants in the trading/advantage gambling world.

I’m not one who spends much time concerned about what others think of me, but this was an exception to that rule. Losing the respect of those uniquely successful people is a hit to your pride. And while only one of them has ever really shown that he thinks less of me now than he did a dozen years ago (and that one, ironically, is by far the least skilled of them all), I know that they’re all thinking it.

How could they not? After all, I am the ONLY one out of that circle who isn’t still a successful person with a better life. The only one who became a screwup. The only one who doesn’t have the freedom to do what he wants anymore.

As you can imagine, that has just fueled my loner tendencies that much more. I barely keep in touch with any of those guys lately. Not only because of the shame and embarrassment, but because I’m not part of their world nearly as much now. They’re the ones still plugging away to make a nice living, while I’m still mostly back at square one.

It’s yet another part of my life that’s worse than it used to be. This downward spiral has taken so, so much.

The only question now is: how much of this lost life can I ever manage to get back?

Baseball good ol’ days, part 2 of 2

My other baseball story from awhile back was about team glory. This one is about personal accomplishment, and I imagine anyone who loved being on the diamond as a kid can relate.

Late spring 1987. The goody good suburban ’80s were in full swing in my hometown, and my best time of the year was about to start: Little League baseball.

You see, the older kids had the limelight of football and basketball. But when you were a tween, the youth sports world revolved around one place: what was (at the time) the only LL field in town, right next to the high school football field. If you were a player during that time of year, you often wore your team’s jersey to school on game days (just like the HS football players did). This was serious biz.

The bleachers were always full of people watching, and there was even a food concession stand there too. And in clear view at that stand was always a list of everyone who had hit a home run that season (along with how many).

I didn’t simply want to get on that list. I HAD to.

It was always a childhood fantasy to hit one out. Not in the backyard (that was nothing), but during a real game. With the fans reacting and the scoreboard changing. During my 10 and 11 year old LL seasons, that hadn’t happened, but it didn’t bother me at all (as very few guys would hit homers at that field before their last season as 12 year olds).

Now, it was time. And before that final season began, my dad noticed a hitch in my swing that I’d developed (which led to us combining to come up with an adjustment at the plate that gave my bat more pop). Clearing the fence at that field was now easy in practice. I just had to do it when it counted.

Early in the season, I hit one off the base of the fence. A few games later, a deep shot clanged square off the top of it. So it only seemed like a matter of time, especially since I hadn’t really gotten into one yet.

But to my surprise and, before long, ever-growing frustration, it continued to elude me.

Before I knew it, the season was halfway over. At that point I started to press and went into a slump for a couple weeks, which just made things worse. Took a deep breath and got back on track eventually, but by then, I had almost run out of chances. All that was left was the short postseason (single elimination) tournament. Since we had only won three games all year, that meant that I probably had only one more shot.

Sure there were the all star games coming up too, but I couldn’t count on that. Plus, it just wouldn’t have been the same. It only seemed right to do it on my home field.

I singled in my first at bat. My next time up, we were ahead 2-1 with runners on second and third. A teammate yelled “we need these ribbies”.

The pitcher (and yes I remember who it was, but not saying here) laid one right down the middle. I swung. A long line drive took off to left field. And….

I didn’t even see what happened next. Why? Because my dad and I always made a point for the hitter to never watch the ball on his way to first base. Even in this spot, I held true to that. Despite the fact that I wasn’t sure if it was too much of a liner to get out.

So I only heard a unique roar from our side of the stands. Given that no one else on our team had homered all year, I knew what that meant. As I was getting to first base, I finally saw the left fielder at the fence, looking calmly beyond it, and that was when it was certain that it was gone. The scoreboard now said 5-1.

I don’t think I left a footprint the rest of the way around the bases. People took off to find the ball for me. It still sits at the house where I grew up, along with the other home run ball that I hit a little later during all-star competition (cause hey, the pressure was off then).

Anyway, we ended up losing 18-5 that day. But after I went deep, no one seemed to care that much (especially since we knew our poor last place team was just playing out the string.) And I’d like to think it was also because everyone else in the dugout lived the moment with me.

Which made it even that much better.