Tend to agree with your analysis, except that the two callers behind weren't as significant as you might think. These players are often not seeing the prior action as bet/raise but more bet/amping-it-up a bit, so will still call with top pair or weaker combo draws such as pair/gutshot. If it were raised preflop and the action on the flop was, say, c-bet $40 then raise to $100, they're nearly alway folding these weaker hands unless tilted or short-stacked (and usually if they call in this situation, I'm definitely more wary, although I doubt a player would call to trap with a straight or set here that often; perhaps they would call with bottom-two, in a more cautious sense).

With respect to folding, I can see the merit of this option, and, when this option is fully considered, it can, I'd argue, logically lead to raising, since a decent portion of those hands calling a 3bet are the better combo draws, which our hand is a slight favourite against, due to our top pair and flush blockers. Of course, such logic comes with a relatively high risk factor, as I indeed discovered (there is such a thing as FE v the nuts, but only in PLO).

Tail-end of a downswing suggests the vet

My last session was in line with the previous few weeks, as I posted another loss (in the vicinity of my running bb average). I was happy with how I managed to claw my way back from a poor start (only getting to the turn once, in my first 30 minutes of play, as PFR, with some lovely cards---T9s and K9s from CO, AJ from EP, AK from BN and AQs from MP---and just whiffing everything, back-door equity included, except for middle pair on one occasion, which I folded to a tight player on the turn after he led).

It wasn't long before my frustration became anger, including a verbal with a dealer, who lent back in a hand between me in seat 1 and seat 9, in order to allow my opponent a "read" (I had AA on a K93hhx board in a 3bet HU pot and bet smallish; she folded, likely JJ-QQ, much to my disappointment, adding to my general dissatisfaction and increasingly toxic fatalism).

Then developed a heated dynamic between me and another player on my immediate right (I'd moved to seat 7, after the above incident), who I'd assumed was Spanish but was actually Greek. He insisted on commentating, even when he didn't have cards (such as "oh, you're raising again/you're betting that flop?/ why are you betting flop and checking turn?/how can you fold that river?, etc."), but, naturally enough, ignored my request to keep his comments to himself, which, I'd even reinforced by saying "look I get upset when I lose, happy when I win, so asking me what I had when I lose a pot is something I'd rather you wouldn't do". Bluntly, he proclaimed that he didn't get upset when he lost, as if that was the most obvious thing he'd ever said, default for most 1/3ers.

After he nonetheless continued, I did what I don't ever recall doing before. I stepped down from the moral high ground and decided to commentate as well, unlawfully announcing "I'm pretty sure he's good here", when I believed my nemesis was value betting in a hand against a guy I know likes to call light. Dealer wasn't happy.

Of course, I managed to call my nemesis down light in a subsequent hand (he'd been caught bluffing a few times previous) to further add to the shame/anger, as tends to happen in these situations. When my nemesis (a millenial, with a motorcycle helmet at his feet, some tattoos, evidence of gym work) made the most of my failed bluff-catch, I added extra spice by telling him that those "chips of yours are coming here, pal" (not actually saying these words, of course, but if I'm going to paraphrase I might as well revert to heroic cliche).

Soon after, I raise to $15 with 55. UTG1 and MP call, nemesis completing his BB. I check a 754r flop, UTG1 bets $22, MP folds, and BB calls. When I raise to $80 and UTG1 folds, BB pauses, gives me the look, and says "you raised pre, right? How do you have 86 here? You don't have 86 here, I'm all-in." Turn is a T, river a blank and he shows me T7. As he rebuys, a few from the table give me a smirk, clearly having enjoyed this predictable drama (guy who I advised to fold, just before, was particularly pleased).

What's notable about this anecdote is that thereafter nemesis and I became buddies. While I seemed to reach the unenviable heights of fishiness, or, more precisely, entitled bad-reg frustration, the resulting competitive, verbal engagement, including the egotistical and shallow response to a shame-inducing play (e.g. failed bluff-catch morphing into a stereotypical taunt in the manner of an old school duel), actually proved good for the game. Anger, in this respect, is better expressed than stifled by poker-psych doxa---it's surprising how often we value camaraderie over conflict, or, at least, engage in conflict for the sake of camaraderie.

At the back of my mind during this whole night was that my 4 month-old poker psych was home by himself and would wake to an empty apartment and no breakfast (since my partner was away). By around 7am, I'd decided to book a small loss, but before I could, I was informed that a certain VIP was at the cage about to start his day. It was the blind-raiser from last week, the one who managed to stack me in three AI hands, with less the 20% equity in each, for nearly 1000bbs in total. Since I'd already benefited from a revenge plot tonight, I figured I should stay, convincing myself that poker psych would understand. Well, of course, the same narrative was replayed, with me 3betting AhKh from the SB to $80, an older guy on a heater calling, along with the VIP blind-raiser on the BN; flop comes Kd8h3h, so I check, as does MP, with blind-raiser shoving. After I tell him I've got a monster (what else do we call TPTK with NFD on a disconnected board?), he says, excitedly, "oh that's alright I can still beat it"; turn is a 6s and river an 8c. Unfortunately, that excitement didn't even have time to revert to its more natural state, as he gleefully rolled over 98o.

At the very least, I expected to get some genuine understanding from my poker psych, upon returning home. It's always tough being bad-beat at the tail-end of the graveyard shift, particularly after recovering from a poor start, most particularly in the midst of a 17 BI downswing. What's more, we expect our poker psychs to be beacons of support, purposively tail-wagging, so as to ensure we remain positive and EV-inclined, even when beaten-up and cynical. Well, the support he offered was certainly roundabout, albeit instructive to the nth degree. The poor little fella had some serious gastro, with him trying his best to wag that tail, as I looked at my apartment covered in bile, blood and some very scary black stuff that you don't normally see, even on nature-strips. Being stuck in a downswing, after suffering endless bad-beats and coolers, not to mention all the shame and anger, is measureless compared to the panic of believing your puppy has been poisoned (a missing battery from a chewed up air-con remote all of a sudden came to mind).

Taking my poker psych to the vet at 9.30 am, in the morning heat and all, after playing 9 hours, was a new addition to my after-game routine. Fortunately, the vet---a meta-poker psych, in many ways, I'm now supposing---reassured me that my puppy would be okay, after some medication, telling me that, if he'd eaten a battery, I'd have know about it sooner. He even looked me in the eye, when saying this, the vet, checking, it seemed, whether I was doing a Hollywood or not, before deciding that my concern was indeed genuine, that a bluff-catch response wasn't required. He convinced me that leaving my poker psych with him for a few hours at the clinic was best, a mere precautionary measure of course (one not necessary for me, I was glad to think). I went home and cleaned up my puppy's insides, splattered all over my apartment floor, thinking about how all those moments over night, when I was quibbling over whether to c-bet or call a river bet, he was in a state of helpless and solitary despair, his body convulsing and rejecting all it seemingly contained. Nothing like a cocktail of disinfectants to rid oneself of the poker demons, and, what's more, allow oneself to realise what compassion is really about.

Poker psych agrees:

Gotta admit, this was my first big lol of the morning.

And you ran good at the only thing that mattered that day, congrats on the puppy being ok!

GcluelesspuppynoobG

Would have been funny, if the tanker nonetheless called and was good, since I folded TPTK on J8764. Tanker had some kind of middle pair, I believe. Still feel guilty about speaking out of turn, though.

Played my first session in six weeks a few days ago and ran well. Won in the following session but ran very poorly yesterday. Was proud of how I managed to recover 1.5 BIs, however, after being stuck a fair amount.

I've always noticed how returning to poker after a significant break is governed by variance to a greater extent than usual, with the lows so much harder to handle, psychologically. Listening to DGAF's podcasts has certainly helped in this respect, with his philosophical (and humorous and honest) attitude to variance something to be admired.

My six week break was a little ad-hoc in design, with it being precipitated by a downswing, of course, which has typically been the case for me, in the past. Fortunately, I had a lot of music stuff going on as well: I played gigs and recorded with two new projects during that time, all of which went very well; the other project I mentioned in this thread (a duo with a close musician buddy) has also continued to gain momentum.

I believe I've been lucky with music in relation to poker. So often it has provided an emotional counterweight to the lows one experiences when losing session after session. Much of this has to do with the fact that, in music, most often the goal is to occupy a similar emotional plane to one's band mates, whereas in poker, you're on your own, and, quite often, your opponents are trying their best to make you as uncomfortable as possible.

Had one relevant interaction yesterday with a dealer, when stuck over 4BIs. He was chatty, but slow, particularly as he kept on watching the basketball on the big screen, in between hands (because he had money on the game). When he returned for his next shift, a few hours later, he was doing the same with the horse races, and I couldn't stop myself from saying something:

"The light's green, man," I said, referring to the shuffling machine.

"Are you trying to hurry me up?"

"Yeah"

"But, I've got a bet on ..."

It was such a big deal for me to say this to him, in my mind, but in reality, it meant nothing and he just laughed it off. In fact, what I thought was a major intervention in the game flow, was kind of the opposite. So often, when losing, we get stuck in the bubble of alienated negativity, thinking the worst of every scenario, what amounts to intense agitation. Just the act of being social in itself can reverse things, pretty quickly, an act that is generally easier to accomplish than winning a big pot.

Keen for next update OP.

Thanks for the prompt, samilace! Appreciate your interest.

Fortunately, I've been running well, over the last three weeks or so, having now recovered from the poor start to the year. How much of this recovery is due to variance or good play is hard to say, of course.

I'm still trying my best to focus on experiences of emotional and/or cognitive dissonance at the table. Treating these moments as a challenge is easier in theory than practice.

I often find myself struggling to break from the cocoon of thought in these circumstances, so the gentle reminder that poker is a social game has proven a useful remedy.

While it's hard to measure, I would say there's been less anger/shame in play, over this period. This comes as no surprise, given that I've won over 70% of my sessions (during the last 100 hours), but I'd like to think that my sensitivity to this "leak" of mine has been a factor.

I'd won 16 out of my last 18 sessions before last night, so wasn't surprised that a little 'reversion to the mean' occurred. It's interesting how anger manifests when running good, compared to running bad. The other day, when an old man (classic limit type of player) slow-rolled me, I just laughed it off and even congratulated him on his performance (the intent outshining the execution, unfortunately for him). But yesterday, after dropping nearly 4BIs at 2/5 and experiencing sustained negative variance over a number of hours, I did this when depositing my few remaining chips at the cage



Just snapped it between my fingers, much to the cashier's surprise, before hopping on the tram home. I believed this to be my best response to the "fear" of another downswing, my way of "controlling" the sadness of losing, that is, the idea that I might once again sink into the depths of bankroll despair.

We all have our irrational mind games, I guess, when it comes to the fantasy of the poker life. I always like to think the cashiers at the cage have an intimate knowledge of how well I'm doing, bankroll-wise, even though it's never explicitly spoken about (conversations usually consist of "how would like those chips" and "would you like your receipt" rather than "looks like you crushed them today" or "must have been coolered a fair bit").

So me snapping my player's card, in one respect, was an acknowledgement of the unspoken game I've been playing with the cage, all these years: I believe the cashiers really do know how I'm doing, and, what's more, are fully invested, emotionally and psychologically, in my prospects. It was also an expression of shame, not to mention a tacit request for some sympathy (which neither etiquette nor trolls allow at the poker table, especially when the need of sympathy is clearly evident).

The fact that we're in the age of cardless transactions should lessen the blow of this episode. I'm hoping the return to 1/3 will be relatively non-toxic, too.