My fingertips trembled on the keyboard, and the numbers jumping on the screen were like bloodthirsty demons. Another account blew up, the glaring red warning felt like a burning wound. This was already the third time this month. I stared at that string of zeros, my heart gripped by cold despair—every time an account blew up felt like a piece of my soul was ruthlessly torn away by the market.
Once, high leverage was the 'magic weapon' in my eyes. 10 times? 50 times? Even 100 times! I was immersed in the frenzied fantasy of 'small capital driving large returns.' Every time I entered the market, adrenaline surged through my veins like venom, and the illusion of doubling my account and achieving financial freedom seemed to appear before me. Leverage amplified my greed but never my ability. When the market unexpectedly reversed, my account capsized like a paper boat hit by a huge wave, sinking instantly without a chance to struggle. Leverage is not wings; it is a cold blade hanging over my head— the more wildly I swing it, the more accurately it falls.
I was immersed in the fragmented light and shadow of 1-minute and 5-minute charts. Every slight price fluctuation tugged at my taut nerves. Chasing highs and cutting lows, I frequently entered and exited, the clicking of the mouse sounded like a death knell. In those narrow temporal cages, I was like a blindfolded trapped beast, seeing only the flickering candlelight before me, oblivious to the surging undercurrents around me. Noise devoured signals, and anxiety distorted judgment. Fighting in the micro-fragments ultimately led only to being drowned by the dust of the market.
In the pain of reflection, I know I must change, or I will be completely consumed by the market.
The first thing I did was to personally cut the noose called 'high leverage.' With trembling fingers, I gradually lowered the account leverage from 100 times to 50 times, then 30 times, finally stabilizing it at 10 times, or even 5 times. In that moment of reducing leverage, it felt as if I had shed a thousand-pound shackle. Each breath no longer carried the taste of rust; each price fluctuation was no longer a life-or-death sentence. I could clearly perceive: when leverage no longer crazily overdrafts your future, you can truly possess the calm to think about the present. Stop-loss became bearable, and strategies had room to maneuver. Lowering leverage is not a cowardly retreat but an awakening of survival wisdom— to survive the storm, one must first stabilize their anchor point.
A greater transformation is breaking free from the cage of the micro and looking up to the broader space and time. I forced myself to close that suffocating 1-minute chart and shifted the main battlefield to the 4-hour and daily charts. The world before me opened up! Those 'giant waves' that were thrilling on the minute chart were merely small ripples on the calm sea from the daily perspective. The true trend's context, like the direction of ancient rivers, clearly emerged in a grander time dimension. The market's heartbeat steadily pulsed between daily charts, noise was filtered by time, leaving the calm breath of the trend. I was no longer held captive by every minor fluctuation and began to learn to identify key support and resistance, patiently waiting for high-probability patterns to appear.
Change is painful, like shedding a shell. Accustomed to high-frequency stimulation, I felt restless and impatient when facing the initially 'slow' daily charts. But when I forced myself to wait according to plan, abandoning those small fluctuations that excited me but were full of traps, the curve of my account miraculously transformed from a steep waterfall to a gently rising staircase. Although slow, it was incredibly solid. True trading wisdom often lies in knowing when to sit quietly and watch the tide, rather than always wading barefoot into the waves.
Once, short-term blowups felt like bloody cycles, high leverage was the knife of self-destruction, and the micro time frame was a cage of confinement. Now, I have laid down that blood-drinking knife and opened that narrow window. The reduction of leverage brings breathing space and dignity of survival; the elevation of the time frame grants insight into the tides and the composure to filter out noise. The scars of my account have not yet fully healed, but each breath becomes steadier, and each decision becomes clearer. The redemption on the trading path often begins with putting down the weapons that slaughter the self, turning to seek direction on the broader shores of time—where there are no instant annihilations and ecstasies, but the power of a steady stream and the hope of endless life.