Poker, my dear friends, is a lot like life… if life were played in cowboy boots, fueled by coffee and bar snacks, and featured strangers aggressively bluffing you out of your rent money.
Now I’ve had my fair share of good runs—the kind of heater where the deck feels like it’s in love with you. Every hand’s a winner, your opponents look like confused puppies, and you start dreaming about buying a little vacation cabin in Jackson Hole with your winnings.
But this isn’t that story.
This is the story of the downs.
It started on a Wednesday. Always Wednesday. I sat down feelin’ good, ready to work my magic. Within 30 minutes I’d flopped top two, got it all in—and got rivered by a one-outer. The poker gods were laughing. Loudly.
Next hand? Flopped a set. Gorgeous. By the river, it turned into a very expensive "donation to the cause" when Mikey (my husband, traitor at the table) hit a backdoor straight with his off suit low cards.
By the end of the night, I felt like a casino slot machine… except I was the one handing out jackpots. To everyone. For free.
Now here’s where the story turns.
Friday night rolls around. I drag myself to the Game, more for the company than the cards. I tell myself, “Yo, just play tight. Be patient. Maybe just watch and pretend you’re a retired librarian.”
But then it happens.
A big hand builds. I get dealt pocket tens. I don’t love 'em, but I also don’t hate ‘em. Flop comes 10-7-2 rainbow. Hallelujah.
I slow play like I’m on a first date with royalty. Turn is a 6. More action. River is a 10. Quads, baby.
I check. My opponent shoves like he’s the sheriff of Card Town. I tank a bit—mostly for dramatic effect—and call.
He proudly flips over his full house. I flip over my quads. The table erupts. Mikey chokes on a pretzel. The poker gods nod and whisper, “She’s back.”
And just like that… the down was over. I’d ridden the river of redemption, one beat at a time.
The thing about poker is, it's not about never falling. It’s about dragging yourself back to the table, wiping the salsa off your shirt, and playing the next hand like your chips are watching.
So if you're in a slump—remember: it only takes one good hand to turn the whole thing around. And if all else fails, tell a good story, get another beer, and bluff like you mean it.
The Two Tilts: When Poker Messes With Your Mind Both Ways
Most folks think tilt only comes from losing. That red-hot, steam-out-the-ears frustration when your pocket kings get cracked by someone chasing rainbows and catching miracles. But let me tell you — there's a second kind of tilt. Sneakier. Fancier. Dumber. And just as dangerous.
Let’s break ‘em both down.
I find these two things my biggest enemy on the table...#2 cost me a lot this past week.
1. The Classic Tilt: Losing and Losing Your Mind
You take a beat. A bad one. You had the nuts, or thought you did. You get rivered by some donkey who "just had a feeling."
Now you're stuck. Not just in chips, but in your head.
You're not playing poker anymore — you're playing revenge.
You're calling too light. Raising too much. Trying to force the universe to make it right.
This is the “I’ll get it all back right now!” kind of tilt. It doesn’t work.
You end up donating chips to people you don't even like. You know it, and it makes you even madder. You start thinking, “I’ll show them!” — and suddenly, you’re showing them the way to your stack.
Tilt from losing is ugly. But at least it’s recognizable. You feel it in your chest, your jaw, your grip on the chips. It's a warning siren — and if you're wise, you take a walk before you turn into a cautionary tale.
2. The “Rich and Reckless” Tilt: Over-Chipped and Outta Line
Now here's the sneaky one.
You’re running hot. You’ve got a mountain of chips. You're the table boss. People are folding when you blink.
So what do you do?
You start getting... creative.
You call with trash. Raise with air. Bluff into calling stations because “why not?”
You’re not angry — you're invincible.
But guess what? That’s tilt too.
It’s the "I’ve got chips to burn" tilt. The “I’m playing with house money” mentality.
And suddenly, you’ve gone from feared shark to floating fish in a matter of orbits.
This tilt feels fun at first. You’re splashing, laughing, trying plays you’d never try on a short stack.
But the fall comes quick. And painful. And public.
Next thing you know, the guy you doubled up three hands ago is ordering drinks with your chips and thanking you for the "donation."
The Cure for Both Tilts? Awareness and Ego-Check.
Whether you're stuck and steaming, or stacked and showboating — tilt is tilt. And the moment your emotions take the wheel, you're in trouble.
Here’s the fix:
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Pause.
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Breathe.
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Ask yourself: “Am I playing smart poker, or emotional poker?”
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Then fold something you want to play just to prove to yourself that you’re still in control.
If you can't do that, get up. Hit the bathroom. Sip a drink. Laugh it off with someone who's seen it all (hello, that’s me).
Because poker isn’t about one hand, or one heater.
It’s about making good decisions, over and over again.
And the second you forget that — whether you’re down to crumbs or sitting behind a fortress of chips — the game starts to eat you alive.
Stay smart. Stay humble. And when in doubt… tilt-proof your play.