This blog is the greatest thing.

Unfortunately no . I haven't played 1/3 in a while and if I play at the Aria it is for their nightly 125.

Pro Tip: When playing at the Aria they have freshly squeezed, organic juices. Watermelon, carrot and pomegranate. Besides being insanely good for you they are DELICIOUS and free. Any other room in town will charge you around $7 a glass.

Bummer, thought that might have been you. Either way, still enjoying the thread a lot and just means well have to meet some other time.

Watermelon grey goose is pretty much my greyhound. That, and goose, soda, splash of St. Germaine which I've only been able to order consistently at Aria. Delicious and a very good break in the routine of mundane drinks. Tastes kinda like a lychee martini to me.

The Birth of a Grinder

Deployment had ended. My time in the Army was nearing it's closure and I was moved from my unit to another. The new brigade I was placed in was one that was preparing for a deployment to Iraq. I was not going. I was put into what is called "rear detachment", a company that was full of people who were too broken to deploy or preparing to E.T.S. (end time in service). It was cool. No one messed with me. I always had medical appointments that conveniently "took all day", when in reality I was in my barracks room, glued to my computer, playing the game I had become obsessed with. I had discovered online poker and it was amazing.

I started with a couple of $100 deposits and purchases of every book on poker I could find. I read all of the publications cover to cover, soaked in the internet forum's threads and started learning software like pokerstove. I was hooked. I had decided to focus on tournament poker. It appealed to me. Low risk-high reward. Within a month of playing seriously I had binked a first place prize of 8k by winning the Pokerstars Daily 30. I had done it, my first big tournament score. I had outlasted a field that resembled the main event, as far as number of entrants go. I was going to be the next superstar. Of course I immediately hopped into a high stakes HU match with a guy named King10ofClubs(something like that). I ran super hot and took him for around 9k in about a half hour. I'll never forget the feeling of dominance. "So all poker is this easy???" Wrong. There was a list 15 deep to play against this donkey who was playing every hand and hitting everything, destroying some poor soul, who was most likely an advanced heads-up grinder. I felt invincible. Why were these people waiting in line to get crushed??? Well, I found out why. After I had laid waste to this K10ofClubs guy, another HU specialist joined the table and quickly took me for $600. Something isn't right here, I told myself. I had ballooned my bankroll from $100 to over $17,000 in one day. Did I want to lose all of it? I quickly left the table.

I felt on top of the world. It was time for me to reach the pinnacle of the poker mountain and I had a bankroll to do it with. I started grinding 4 tourneys at a time and had decent success. I was in the final table for the "Tuesdays with the Pros" tourney (was that what it was called?), cashing for another 1k+. Sweet. Time to play something bigger.

I started out with the Sunday Million, busted pretty quickly. Damn. Let's try again. I saw a listing for the Sunday 500, 500k gtd and this field looked very small! Sweet. This should be easy.

One man's misfortune is another's...well you know

I was crushing the Sunday 500, I couldn't lose a flip. I was manhandling every table I found myself at. I was chip leader from the first break until I busted out, and it wasn't even close. I was the first one to break 1 million chips, 2 million, 3 million and finally reaching 3.5 million chips with 15 people left. 98k up top. This was going to change my life.

The next closest person to me in the rankings had under 2 million, this was going to be easy. I was just going to coast to the final table. Play basic poker, no need to get crazy anymore. Then this hand happened. The hand that I have thought about for years. The hand that crushed my dreams. The eventual winner, who has gone on to poker superstardom, being called one of the greatest in the game, was the one to destroy me. I had 88, raised preflop and was called by this man. Flop comes down KQ8x. I bet, he raised, about 6 bets occurred before I shoved. He snap called. HUH? No way he has KK or QQ here. He didn't. He had Jx. He ended up doubling through me when his flush completed and I was down to around 1.3 million in chips. Still plenty to play with, but I didn't know it at the time. I was steaming. I shoved the very next hand and was called by the eventual runner up with K8. I had K6. I was out. From dominating chip leader to out before the final table.

I stared at my computer screen for hours in dismay. I couldn't believe what had happened. I did not go on tilt this time. I just felt sadness. My dreams of poker glory had been crushed. I was going to be on the (insert other forum here) podcast the next week talking about my dominating rise to fame. I was going to be another legend. $100 to over 120k in under 3 weeks.

To tell you the truth, it was probably a good thing I lost that hand. I don't want fame or glory, not that I would've got it just from that win, but it would've changed my buy-ins dramatically. I realize that now. If I was to ever play in the main event and go deep, I would probably intentionally go out before the Final Table. I don't want to be recognized. You will never see a picture of me on this forum. Never know my name. Why? I am content with the grind. Happy to be anonymous at the tables, just another young guy enjoying himself while playing cards.

The grinder inside of me had been born during this period of less than a month. The fire inside had been lit. I continued to play online, being a successful MTT player and dabbling in cash games. I developed a love for 6max PLO. I was playing HORSE and other mix games. I just couldn't get enough.

If I would've boated up in that hand, maybe I would be a poker superstar now. That Sunday 500 win may have been the same catalyst for me, that it was for this Poker Legend. Would I change a thing? Probably not. I am happy with how my life has turned out.

It was time for me to use some of my online winnings to branch out into an uncharted frontier. What would become my true love.

Live Poker.

Very good max. Keep writing I will keep reading.

Just Another Nightmare

WHISTLE, BOOM.

My platoon was huddled into our concrete bunkers, we had been taking incoming rocket fire for a good 20 minutes. WHY THE **** HAVEN'T WE GOT THE INCOMING RADAR WE WERE PROMISED SO WE COULD HAVE A P.O.O. SITE TO FIRE BACK ON???? Oh because we are way out in the middle of nowhere and the highest ranking person on our base is a 1st Lieutenant, hardly worth the Army's money. When a rocket is being fired at you, unlike a mortar, you have a little bit more warning, typically. First you hear the rocket being fired from it's tube, then the whistle, then the inevitable impact. It doesn't make it any less scary.

BOOM, WHISTLE.................BOOM.

They overshot us now. Either their spotter sucks or maybe the rocket caught a lucky patch of air on it's way in. Then we hear it. Screaming. Crying. It is coming from the small village that is about 200 yards away from us, on the edge of the river. Guess we are going to get blamed for this. Hearts and Minds.

Radio: "COUNTER FIRE, COUNTER FIRE, COUNTER FIRE."

Everyone springs from the bunkers and sprints to the guns. We quickly get our M119 artillery pieces pointed skyward in preparation for a lethal counter-attack. Who had eyes on the P.O.O. site??? (point of origin, used to reference the spot where indirect fire is originating from).

Radio: "PLATOON FIRE FOR EFFECT..........QUADRANT xx.."

BOOM, WHISTLE. "INCOMING." Everyone hits the ground, I am in the middle of the gun preparing to load a round into the breach and just kneel down, putting my head as low as I can. BOOM. My Chief picks himself up and our R.T.O. continues to read the firing mission data off.

I load the round into the breach and then hear it. BOOM, WHISTLE. No one says incoming, we just hit the ground, I put my upper torso under the breach and close my eyes. These fighters know we are about to exact vengeance , their spotter has told them about the impending counter fire. They are stepping their game up. This sucks.

BOOM.

"DOC!! DOC GET OVER HERE."

Flash

I open my eyes and see the strip dancing in my window, sitting up in my bed I notice I had been sweating profusely. My girlfriend would be here to beg me to talk about my nightmare, but she is sleeping in the other room. Things haven't been going too well lately. The clock reads 11:45 pm. I had gone to sleep around 4:00 pm. She hadn't even woken me up for dinner. I sneak over to the closet and grab the back end of the carpet in the corner, pulling it up to reveal my secret stash. I grab the pint of Bombay out of it's hiding spot, snatch my smokes and walk out onto the balcony. Damn, it feels good out here. Sipping slowly on the neck of the pint, while taking deep inhales of delicious tobacco, I observe the fascinating architecture in front of me. It really is amazing. The sheer size and decadence of the strip always blows me away, even after seeing it everyday.

"Yo son." I almost accidentally drop my pint off the side of the balcony, which is scary to think about, god forbid someone is walking out of the lobby. The bottle would kill them. I look over and see Eric, my neighbor, playing some poker on his laptop, play money I assume. I can smell the Green Crack emanating from his Roor Bong sitting on the table. God, that strain is so amazing, I am getting high just thinking about it.

"Hiding from the old lady are we?"

"Just needed some fresh air brother." He nods, being an Iraq veteran himself, we have had real conversations about our experiences overseas. Only another veteran can understand experiences you have been through. Truly understand. He sits up and passes me the bong over the railing. "Gracias amigo." I take a deep rip and hand it back to him, savoring what I consider to be the finest herb that Nevada has to offer. He asks if I want to come over and play some Xbox, I decline and we both go back to what we were doing. Man, the strip really is something.

I say goodnight to my friendly neighbor and walk back in, fire up the old laptop and start to work on a new blog post. It really has become a passion for me, I get satisfaction in knowing that my story will not be lost. By reading this blog you are getting to know a person that not even my parents know. My oldest friends don't even know everything about the struggles I have faced/currently face. I don't want to burden them. You bear no responsibility in reading this. You are a quiet observer, getting an unfiltered picture of another man's life. I thank you for reading. I am going to end with a quote from a book called Prozac Nation. I haven't read the book but I saw the quote one day online and it really hit home. It describes me very well. I am constantly leaving and re-entering people's lives who are close to me, without notice. It is because I am scared of who I am. I am a self-destructive person. I would never hurt another soul, but I will drag mine to the depths of hell and back. Here is the quote:

“I'm the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible...”

My next entry, which should be up by the end of the day will finally detail what I promised 2 entries ago. A look at my time grinding in Dallas and my descent into the "Altered States Game." Hope you guys are enjoying reading about my life and I thank you for your time.

Keep it up Max, it's a powerful story. Hope that you continue to find writing it out helpful.

MadMax...much respect. Love your blog. Thank you for your service. Subbed

I think fold pre is best, even if u were utg +1 on a 6 handed table which would be effectively the hijack it would still be advisable to fold, unless it was a ridic limp happy table. On the flop u fire out 50 into 35, i'm not sure if the overbet is a standard part of your game, it can work, if u balance your semi bluffs and value bets, but it just seems like betting 1/2, 2/3 or 3/4 pot would be a better option.

thanks, but, you made a wrong turn;

http://forumserver.twoplustwo.com/17...low-stakes-nl/

madmax is sharing his life with you, not looking for strat.

Thanks Dollar. I do find that writing everything out has helped me out a lot. I learn something new about myself every time I re-read one of my posts.

Thanks Eddie. And you're welcome. I will get into what I think of my service at one point and it won't be as positive as I would like it to be. But I do appreciate your intent by thanking me.

Like I said before, I am not here to talk about my game and I don't intend to discuss it at all. I do thank you for your input though and understand completely what you are saying.

Lol, you beat me to it mendicant.

That's cool, gl w your journey.

Hey max( if that's your name) I love the stories man. How long have you been with your girl for? My girl is also a social worker which is a funny coincidence.
I would recommend you talk to your girl and try to work out whatever problems you have ASAP. That relationship is one of the most important ones you can have, and you gotta make sure that she's happy. The faster you converse the faster you resolve your problems and reach compromises.
Disagreements damper your mood which affects you psychologically. And whether or not you know it, that can affect your game since you won't have a perfectly clear mind. I've literally dealt with everything I'm saying so I'm speaking from experience. It might be different for you and affect you differently than it does me, but if you love the person I think disputes more or less affect people the sane way. Get her back to sleeping your bed man! Gl at the tables and in life.

Thanks for putting this up. I've thoroughly enjoyed your story so far especially because there are so many parallels in our worlds. Seems like you have a solid head on your shoulders despite some of the issues you deal with. Looking forward to your "trip" report with that beautiful girl, Lucy

Thanks for the well wishes Box. You can call me Max, lol. I have been with her for 7 months now. I am in love with my girl, I love her very deeply. As you know, having a woman who is a social worker in your life is a blessing. They are inherently kind, caring, compassionate and understanding. It comes with the territory. I am not telling you anything you don't already know, this is for anyone reading. The problem is me. The arguments are all centered around her dissatisfaction of what she views as my lack of caring about myself. Like I said in my initial post, I am pretty sure I have borderline personality disorder. Part of this disorder is not being able to handle relationships at a normal emotional level. I am in constant pain over the possibility of her leaving me. Throbbing, mind numbing pain. I try, I really do, but I don't know what else to do. I treat her well, have never cheated on her, laid a hand on her, never cussed at her, but she sees the pain I am in. She probably feels extremely inadequate due to my inability to help myself. She is in pain, like I am. I don't know if I am able to have a healthy romantic relationship. It may not be possible, I am damaged goods, I guess. I broke up with my last girlfriend, who I should have married, after I got back from Afghanistan. I left her because I was afraid of what I might put her through, due to what I had just gone through. It is sick. I don't know man. I may never have a healthy long-term relationship and I am slowly accepting it.

You're welcome Joe, thanks for reading man, seriously. My "trip" report will be up soon. I am going through 6 journals containing about 500 pages each and just found the entry I had made about the altered states game. I will have a new blog post up soon detailing that madness.

This is one of the best paragraphs on 2+2 ever.

I'm really interested in this. I've just started trying to deal with some things recently. I probably don't have the exact same thing going on as you - nowhere as extreme. I know the therapists diagnosis for me is spot on and after reading a lot about it, part of me thinks what you are thinking. That it is so ingrained in you that you can't change it.

The other part of me says, dammit I'm gonna take this head on.

So, my question is - how motivated are you really to make changes? Maybe not a good question. What do you do with the things your therapist says? Does he give you "homework" or techniques or stuff to try? Do you really put effort into what he says? I mean, is it in the forefront of your daily life or does it sort of get lost in the shuffle once you leave the office and go on about living?

Please don't take this as a judgement or anything. I'm sincerely curious about this.

One of the most powerful books i have had the pleasure of reading, The Truth Book, by Joy Castro, concludes;

" No matter how beautiful the houses of Marrakech or San Cristobal may be, the safety and seclusion of walled gardens where things can grow in peace, there comes a time when you want to walk outside. One blue square of sky can come to seem too small a ceiling.

My mother was ruled by the fear of shame: shame in the fancy department stores, shame in front of the congregation. My father's shame at his failed marriage built a facade so thick he couldn't even let his children in, until it was too late. My parents tried to hide so many things.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know/ What was I walling in or walling out, says the speaker in Robert Frost's poem "Mending Wall," rebuilding the stone property line with his neighbor while questioning the needfulness of it all.

I have always known precisely what my barriers kept at bay. But now I wonder what I may have walled in.

I see that my silence has kept me safe, but it has kept me lonely. Sometimes you want to leave the jeweled perfection of your privacy, to walk out into the world, among people, with your history on your sleeve. Come what may.

It's all right that there are things that you do not get over, not really. You just go on, knowing that the things you love could be stripped from you at any moment, remembering to love them now.

It makes you human. You try to be decent and treat people gently, knowing that they, too, have their scars and madness that, like yours, do not show. "

I came home from school when I was ten years old to learn that my mother had moved to Canada. To survive that pain, I had to bury it. Took me thirty five years, a failed marriage, a decade of verbally abusing my sons, alienating every friend I made, and some very heavy-duty therapy, to accept that I was, in fact, normal, and I could stop lying to everyone I talked to.

Seven years later, I am waking up next to the finest person I have ever met, a gift from wherever these gifts of unaccountably good fortune come from. My wife is the only 100% honest relationship I have ever had. Telling the truth was new ground for me. Terrifying.

gl with your demons. keep reading and keep writing.

I 100% do not take what you are saying as a judgement and even if I did feel you were judging me, I would be okay with it. Before I answer, just want to say that your building blog is friggin awesome, I am about halfway through and while I don't understand half of whats going on technical-wise, the dedication is inspirational. Seeing the house transform is very enjoyable, love the french doors!! Well done.

I really hate to sound like I have a defeatist personality, but it is just what I believe. I have seen psychologists who just sit there and listen to you, barely uttering a word, except the occasional "and" or "what do you think about that?" Others have been more engaging but just as ineffective.

The one I am seeing at the VA currently is specifically a specialist in Cognitive Behavior Therapy, which is supposed to really help people with depression, anxiety, phobias and addictions. For people who don't have a problem opening up, it is supposedly one of the most worthwhile forms of treatment. The basic premise is that my thoughts directly influence my actions. A no-brainer, right? Well by becoming aware of how these thoughts influence my behaviors and changing those thoughts, my behaviors will change. Becoming self-aware is a big step of the therapy, but took me a very short time to achieve. I was already aware of how my thoughts influence my actions. Being aware of my thoughts didn't stop me from having them. The therapy feels like finger painting, a childish exercise that most of the time leaves me looking at my psychologist in bewilderment that he spent years in school learning this stuff. He will ask me to throw out a problem, like my drinking. Then he will ask me what to give him a thought that leads to me having a drink. For instance "I can't deal with this right now, I need a drink." Then we will attempt to find a base belief that causes me to think that, such as a feeling that I am worthless or incapable of dealing with life. Then we will replace that belief with something positive, such as I am capable of dealing with life or I am a good, strong person. Now the next time I want to drink I am supposed to tell myself this, which in theory, will prevent the thought or feeling that leads me to have a drink. That is a very short, condensed synopsis of the therapy, typically it takes 4-5 sessions to work through the chain: Belief->Thought->Behavior. Keeping a journal to aid in the introspection process was also a highly recommended part of this therapy, but I had already been doing it. I also started taking a yoga class at his request, which is supposed to aid in the overall state of relaxation I feel throughout my daily life. Two words have prevented me from taking yoga seriously: yoga pants. I can't concentrate on the techniques I am being presented in the class.

So, yeah, "homework" is a given, you can't avoid it because the point of therapy, any therapy, is to apply what you learn to your life outside the room. It can be a very slow and tedious process. Be careful with psychiatric meds also, I have strong beliefs in the long term ineffectiveness and harm these drugs present.

Some days I put a lot of effort into the therapy, while others I walk in with some lunch and tell him I really don't feel like doing anything today and we talk about how my life is going overall. On the days where we do CBT work, I am 100% there in the moment and listen to everything he says, mostly out of respect, I don't believe the therapy works. I have made promises though, so I keep going. There is rarely a time when I am outside in my normal life where I apply the techniques. It all gets lost in the shuffle, I guess. Turning off/altering my thoughts as they are streaming out of me is impossible, in my opinion.

Will therapy help you Boat? I sure hope it does man. Try it out, see if you can change whatever is causing you problems. Don't take my word for it or go off of my experiences. Everyone's brain is different. Best of luck to you.



That's really good, I just ordered the book off Amazon. Maybe this blog is symbolic of me breaking down my wall. Lying by omission is still dishonesty, which is something I practice all of the time with those close to me. Can't wait to read this book, sounds good.

I have taken a couple of days off from work this past week, after stepping back into what I had made my new home room, I was hit with a wave of shame. Regs were looking at me, quietly mumbling to the player next to them. My secret was out. There was no way a normal man drinks as much as I did the night I detailed in my first entry. I sat down at a 2/5 table and immediately the dealer, who I have built a report with, says "no drink tonight?" I smile, a fake smile. We converse shortly and I find out more details of my blackout.

I hadn't insulted anyone, I am not an angry drunk. Apparently a tourist I had become friendly with a couple nights before had come over and tried to get me off of the 5/10 table when I had a huge stack, he had gone so far as to grab me and try to literally pull me off the table. He ended up getting kicked out. I felt horrible. This poor guy, who I barely knew had been kicked out of the room for trying to be a friend to someone he had just met. Damn.

This night, I lost a buy-in over the course of 3 hours, after having a stack of 900+, a $400 profit. I had called a huge value bet on the river holding Aces and been shown the nuts when a tourist flipped over the A2 for a turned nut flush. He proceeded to talk bad about me to his friend, sitting to his right, saying things like "this player is horrible." I AM SITTING RIGHT HERE. I thought about saying something to the guy, but let it go. It didn't matter. I dumped the rest of my stack, unfocused as I could ever possibly be and went back home.

Donkey Does Dallas

After cashing out some money from from my Pokerstars account I had decided to try out live. I first made a trip to the Winstar, an Indian Casino in Oklahoma. I lost the $2000 I had brought before I even got to the poker room, blackjack is a mother ****er. I phoned one of my fellow soldiers and headed down to his parent's place in a suburb of Dallas, called Wylie. He mentioned a cash game that was held in a barn down the street, sounded like fun. The game that was played in this barn was 3 card holdem. Yes, I said three cards. You are dealt 3 cards and can use 1-3. Okay. We stopped by the ATM and I pulled out a buy in, still feeling the pain of the losing blackjack session that had occurred 5 hours earlier. That was so stupid.

The barn game was like something out of a movie, full of characters. Cowboy hats littered the room, big belt buckles shined and the sound of cowboy boots on the wooden floor created a constant clacking. Marijuana smoke created a haze over the tables and the clinking of beer mugs was a constant. I was seated at a table full of men who were at least twice my age, this should be easy, what could they know about poker? I have played online with the best in the world, it was time to crush these poor souls who were probably playing with their retirement money.

Well I was wrong. I was the one who the crushing was bestowed upon. I didn't hold my cards right, allowing players to my right and left to catch glimpses. I fumbled with chips. Why can't this be as easy as online?? I was not aware of live rulings, more than once throwing out too many chips on accident, raising when I didn't want to. I didn't read the board well, more than once not seeing 3 to a flush. I was nervous, my anxiety was flaring. I was a mess. I dumped my buy in and walked outside. What the **** had just happened?

I would improve though. After this I spent every weekend in Dallas, playing in the barn game, random home games and tournaments which were held in the back of a propane and grill store (insert King of the Hill joke here). I had to adapt to reading a person live, understanding the dynamic of a live table, the social aspect, the mechanics. I had a lot to learn. After 3 months of playing I had become profitable in these live arenas. I was ready to step up. The cousin of my Army friend would introduce me to my first live, high stakes game. It was a 10-20 nlhe game held in a penthouse in downtown Dallas. Big city, big stakes. I was ready.

Part 2 coming up

Just after I got out of therapy, my cousin purchased this book for me;

http://www.amazon.com/Baron-Baptiste/e/B001IODKJK

She, being a certified yoga instructor, helped with the poses for the first two weeks whilst I built a workout at home. No way was I going into a studio

I really don't know how much, or even if, yoga helps with my addictions. Certainly helps keep me fit. Absolutely improved my poker results ( poses are built from the ground up. If you fail to establish a solid and balanced base, your pose gets increasingly out of balance, and you topple, or hurt yourself...just like poker ).

Omission. Seductively effective wall. Sit down with your woman and rip that one to shreds.

Subbed, really enjoying your writing, thanks so much for sharing

Great answer/read max. Thanks.

I hope you continue to post about your therapy.

One more question if you don't mind. Maybe not so much a question but a comment. I'm interested in your response though.

I've been around 2p2 for a while and it sure seems like a significant number of poker players suffer from depression. I could be wrong about this, but that's not my question anyways. I really wonder why they keep playing poker. To me that seems like the worst thing you could do if you are fighting depression. Any thoughts on how playing affects you? I think you've sort of addressed it but maybe you can expand on it?