Loss doesn’t always mean failure. It just feels like it does when you’re staring at the screen, watching red numbers move faster than your thoughts.
I remember days when a small loss felt personal. Like the market was pointing at me, saying I didn’t belong here. Other days, a quick win made me reckless. I’d size up without thinking, convinced I’d figured it out. That confidence usually expired fast.
What took time to understand was this: failure is when you stop paying attention. Loss is just something that happens while you’re still in the game.
There were trades I closed too early out of fear. Trades I held too long because I didn’t want to admit I was wrong. Nights where I replayed entries in my head, thinking one candle earlier or later would have changed everything. Sometimes it would have. Most times, probably not.
Loss strips things down. It exposes impatience, ego, hesitation. It also forces honesty in a way wins never do. Wins let you lie to yourself for a while. Loss doesn’t.
Over time, the pain changes shape. It becomes quieter. More familiar. You stop seeing every red trade as proof of incompetence. It’s just part of the rhythm.
The real failure isn’t losing money. It’s losing awareness. And once you see that, losses stop feeling like the end of the story.
