The only time I am sure I am tired is when I have trouble talking or typing about myself.
Yesterday was a mediocre Sunday session. I final tabled the Sunday Mulligan with the chip lead, but finished fourth. Normally the $8,000+ score would be pretty helpful, but I got destroyed in every other tournament. I played a relatively full schedule and a number of higher-stakes satellites for the SCOOP and WSOP main event. I’m not sure why but I didn’t play the $2,000 events. $500 or $700 for a buy-in I can write off fairly easily, but I made some plan before SCOOP to only play 2ks if I won a satellite with a specific budget. I blew through that and oddly forgot about it.
I don’t even play the $500 events normally, but everyone played too many tables yesterday and I thought I had more than a normal edge.
I didn’t have as large of one as I expected, especially after TableNinja FT once again flamed out 30 minutes into my session. I also haven’t taken into account that my style has changed, and I don’t bust tournaments as rapidly as I once did. I’m booting up tournaments like I did when I was a reshove monkey who went out all the time, but now tournament life and a shortstack are much more important to me. I feel as if my study has allowed me to handle them more effectively.
I’m very blessed to be on this run. Since I moved into this house a month back I’ve won a Main Event package, two 109s on Party, the Stars $50r, and finished 3rd and 4th in the Full Tilt Multi-Fifty and Mulligan respectively. This has been unexpected as I really only play poker on Tuesdays and Sundays. The schedule for my consultations is getting sold out sooner than before, and I’m having trouble keeping up with demand.
I wonder how much of this run has been because of the new fresh air and open space of my home. My last place was a good grind pad, when it was just me. When my wife lost her place of business and had no where to go I felt fine letting her use space I wasn’t using. Then you have two people working together, customers coming, and I always had to wake up early to clean the place; it got pretty stressful.
We were also just working toward the marriage and the move, and that’s stressful with nothing else going on. My bunker home (there were few windows) didn’t help.
Having to play Medication Roulette has not been fun either. My medication that worked very well for a couple years just stopped working right around this stressful period. Not slightly, but completely. It had been tapering off for a while, but it dropped off in the face of everything.
Finding the balance with the one new medication I’ve introduced has been difficult. If I take it at this time of day I become tired. If I take this dosage of this I become hyper and have a huge crash. Then I tried to cut one pill out my doctor felt was no longer working. Two weeks in I felt like I was dying. Going back on it held me together for another couple of weeks, and then it wore off again. It doesn’t work that well anymore, but I can’t go off it. It’s like being a drug addict again.
Obviously I understand I am doing much better than years ago. I’m much more stable, controlled, and grateful. I’m far less stressed. There’s just a guilt when I am not grateful. I ran away from home to live in a friend’s garage. I couldn’t have ever imagined all of this. Yet, when I’m tired, when I’m sarcastic, and when I’m just an asshole I’m not honoring what’s been given to me. God has entrusted me with so much and I can’t help but feel I’m blowing it.
Living with my wife has been a joy but also a challenge. She is a talker, a communicator, and go-getter. If she’s not working on her business or the home she’s planning something, a 100 miles per minutes. I don’t know if she has ADD, but she’s doing a great impression. It’s hard for me to sit and work on something for a while, because she’ll be working on something else, asking my opinion, or for a hand. She gets an idea and goes right after it, while I’m more of a “hey, let’s make a schedule a week in advance. And by the way, leave me alone for five hours to read something.”
We’ve had some arguments, which I abhor. It brings up too many bad memories. Yet, I have to admit, most of these have been my doing. I expect my wife to just read me and leave me in my Man Cave (as the therapists would call it) so I can work out this problem that’s been bugging me, or so I can plan for the next few moves financially. She could do something like that and also cook dinner and conduct open heart surgery, so it’s taken some adjustment. I’m learning to divide my focus when need be and be more spontaneous and she’s learning that sometimes a man needs to be focused on one thing and one thing only.
It does no good to beat yourself up but it’s so hard to stay completely together on my medications. It’s hard to focus at times, without a new person to change your rhythm. I wonder if I really need the pills, but public mania I exhibited on my old blog for years and frequent nervous breakdowns would suggest I do.
I wonder what I would be like if I’d never done a drug in my life. I wonder if I’d need to take five pills a day to not start pacing back and forth and imagining conversations that never happened. I wonder if a doctor hadn’t prescribed me an amphetamine when I was in high school, or if a girl I’d liked hadn’t gotten me beer, what I would have been like. I probably would’ve found some other excuse to partake.
It was just so addicting, having your state altered. Aspergian life (read: social retardation) without a care towards social embarrassment. The world was a Grand Theft Auto map.
It’s a scary proposition to think you’ll have to be on medication for the rest of your life. Yet, it’s hard to argue with results. At the lowest point I couldn’t beat NL 50. I couldn’t beat it for a month. I rented a $250.00-a-month apartment specifically because I knew detox wouldn’t be pretty. It took so long to feel normal as myself again.
The first goal with my neurologist was just getting healthy and controlled. That certainly has happened. The stability I find in my job now pales in comparison to any other time in my career. 99% of the time I love my life. I sleep well at nights. I eat well; I’ve put on 40 pounds, and while it’s not muscle, I don’t feel fatter really. I guess my body was just starved for so long.
God has helped my mind to heal. God has given me new mental pursuits and coffee to fuel them A good book, a note pad, studying, discussing new concepts with my students, The Bible, MTTs, jazz, there’s so much to feast on in this world.
The only problem is the days where my anti-psychotics knock me flat on my ass.
The Bible says there is wisdom in having many advisers. I’m looking to put together my team. Psychiatrist, neurologist, sports psychologist, coach, dentist, and doctor; they’re all needed. I’m looking to get a full physical here soon, measuring practically everything the doctor can imagine. I’m building a gym in my house so I can run and lift weights while watching training videos. I’m excited for the future.
But really, the dream is now. I can taste it, in this mango smoothie my wife just brought me.