That night, I lost to my own "certainty"

September 2025, the crypto market entered a frenzy mode. Ethereum skyrocketed from $2,800 to $3,700 in just two weeks, my spot account showed impressive unrealized gains, and my confidence swelled along with the K-line. At that time, a popular saying in the circle was: The deflationary effect after Ethereum's merge would push the price through its all-time high. Analysis videos from major KOLs kept coming, on-chain data indeed showed decreasing ETH balances on exchanges, whales were eating up. All the "signals" pointed in the same direction—up.

I decided to no longer be satisfied with spot gains, opened a futures account, deposited over 30k USDT accumulated over half a year, and used 5x leverage to go long ETH, entry at an average of $3,650. After entering, in the first three days, the price hit a high of $3,780, with unrealized profit exceeding $4,000 at one point. I excitedly took a screenshot and posted it in a small group, captioned "Target $5,000 this wave." Group members gave thumbs-up one after another.

Disaster struck late at night on the fourth day. News about a major market maker transferring huge amounts of ETH to exchanges suddenly fermented, interpreted by the market as a sign of a sell-off. ETH started plunging at 2 a.m., dropping from $3,740 directly to $3,460, a 7.5% decline. My 5x leverage meant over 37% loss in my account, and liquidation was imminent.

But I didn't cut losses. I was "sure" this was just a correction.

Next 12 hours, I did a series of the most regretful operations of my life: first, I urgently transferred 10k USDT from outside the account to add margin, lowering the liquidation line from $3,400 to $3,200. Then, as the price continued to fall to $3,350, I added another 5,000. When it dropped to $3,280, I had no more extra funds. That afternoon at 5 p.m., ETH hit a low of $3,150, and my position was forcibly liquidated around $3,180. The 45k USDT I invested in total, left me with nothing but scraps—less than 2,000 in my account balance.

Even more brutal, less than a week after liquidation, ETH stabilized around 3,000, and two months later, it rebounded back to 3,600. If I had just held spot, it would have been a normal correction. But leverage turned a normal fluctuation into a catastrophe.

After liquidation, I fell into the classic "break-even syndrome." The next day, I used the remaining 2,000 principal to open a 10x short, trying to "recover" the loss, but ETH rebounded slightly, triggering my stop-loss. Over the next week, I traded frantically—long and short switching, watching 5-minute K-lines, day and night. The trading fees and slippage devoured another over 1,000 during this period. That week, I made 31 trades, only 7 profitable, a 22% win rate, and my account finally shrank to less than 300 bucks.

I had to stop because I no longer had capital to lose.

What truly woke me up was a post-mortem after the market closed. I opened my trading records, laid out all operations before and after liquidation in Excel, and asked myself some honest questions with data: Why did I hold a heavy position long at 3,650? Because I "thought" it would go up. Why did I keep adding during the plunge? Because I "didn't believe" it would fall. Why did I trade wildly after liquidation? Because I was unwilling to accept it.

Throughout, not a single trade was based on "what if I’m wrong." I took "correct analysis and direction" as "the market will definitely move according to my view," essentially treating myself as the market's god.

After two full weeks of depression, I decided to change my approach. I re-deposited $5,000 to enter again, but this time I set some ironclad rules, wrote them on sticky notes, and stuck them on my screen:

First, maximum loss per trade no more than 2% of principal. 2% of $5,000 is $100, a number so small it felt "not enough," but this "not enough" saved me— I could no longer hurt myself badly in a single trade.

Second, leverage no more than 2x, used only in rare high-confidence opportunities. Most of the time, I only traded spot or used grid strategies to ride volatility.

Third, open only one trade per day, and before opening, write down three reasons and corresponding stop-loss levels. If not clear, don’t trade.

Fourth, if weekly loss reaches 5%, force a break—shut down the platform, stop watching the market, do something else.

These rules may sound like elementary school rules, but they helped me withstand several subsequent violent swings. In March 2026, ETH dropped from 3,500 to 2,800, my spot position retraced significantly, but because I didn't leverage, I stayed calm and even added some positions around 2,800. Last month, ETH rebounded to 3,200, I gradually reduced my added positions, earning little but real profits on each. The account slowly recovered to $8,000, at a slow pace, but for the first time I felt what "sustainable" really means.

I began to understand "long-termism"—not just holding a coin for three or five years without moving, but trading in a way that allows you to survive three or five years. Frequent heavy positions, even if right ten times, one wrong move can wipe you out; but with reasonable sizing and strict stops, even if wrong ten times, you still have a chance to be right on the tenth.

An old trader once told me a phrase I didn't understand at the time, but after liquidation, I finally got it: "The market never lacks opportunities; what it lacks is your capital to stand in front of those opportunities."

Now, every time I think about heavy positions or frequent trades, I remember that night, when my phone screen flashed a liquidation notice, and the moment my account balance hit zero— that suffocating feeling. That’s not fear, it’s a lesson.

In this investment journey, in the end, it’s not about who makes the most money, but who survives the longest. If you’re currently blinded by profits or rushing to recover losses, remember my story— the market will never spare you just because you are "sure." What truly protects you is not judgment, but discipline. #我的Gate交易时刻