#美SEC促进加密资产创新监管框架 speaks from the heart: When it comes to trading contracts, getting the direction right really doesn’t mean you’ll make money.
I’m living proof of that. The first year I tried contracts, over the course of six months, my account evaporated by 730,000. The most frustrating part? My judgment on the direction was almost always right, but the money still disappeared.
Later, I forced myself to review those settlement records and finally understood—I didn’t lose to the market trends, I was buried by a few invisible pitfalls.
The first pitfall, I call it “impulse syndrome.” Whenever there’s a slight move in the market, my hands would itch. I’d see the price break a certain level, get heated, and go all-in. The result? As soon as I entered, I’d get wiped out by a sudden long wick, with no time to react.
The second pitfall is even more hidden. Back then, I was super “professional,” setting myself iron-clad stop-loss lines—3%, 5%, strictly enforced. Sounds solid, right? But with contracts, the volatility is at least ten times that of spot trading. That tiny stop-loss range is just a snack on the table for the market makers.
I remember clearly, there was a period when I got stopped out by “fake breakouts” three times in a row. The price would touch my stop-loss line and then immediately reverse, surging like crazy in the exact direction I originally predicted. All I could do was watch helplessly from the sidelines, feeling unbelievably frustrated. That’s when I realized: stop-losses need to be flexible, adjusted to market volatility, not fixed at a single number.
The third pitfall is the deadliest—going all-in and gambling everything. The thrill of betting everything at once is real, but it’s also the fastest way to blow up. So what if you’re right about the direction? If there are a few candles going the other way, your margin is gone in an instant. The night I got liquidated, staring at the words “balance zero” on the screen, I felt completely hollowed out.
Since then, I’ve set strict rules for myself: First, no matter how confident I am, never go all-in—always split my funds into three parts; Second, stop-losses can’t be set on a whim—they have to be adjusted with volatility; Third, if the direction isn’t clear, don’t act—staying out is also a valid position.
With these rules, I went from repeated liquidations to steady account growth, tripling my funds in a year. Looking back now, the most important lesson that 730,000 tuition fee bought me is this:
In this market, the one who laughs last is never the one with the most accurate predictions, but the one who manages to survive.
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BearMarketBro
· 12-05 04:21
Tsk, now that's the truth. So many people have failed because of those four words: "I'm on the right track."
View OriginalReply0
GateUser-74b10196
· 12-05 04:10
Damn, that 730,000 tuition is brutal, but the last sentence is truly enlightening.
View OriginalReply0
GasGuzzler
· 12-05 04:02
730,000 tuition fees... This is the true nature of contracts. Staying alive is more important than anything else.
View OriginalReply0
CounterIndicator
· 12-05 03:56
Damn, 730,000 in tuition just to learn a lesson about life. I'm still in the stage of paying tuition myself.
#美SEC促进加密资产创新监管框架 speaks from the heart: When it comes to trading contracts, getting the direction right really doesn’t mean you’ll make money.
I’m living proof of that. The first year I tried contracts, over the course of six months, my account evaporated by 730,000. The most frustrating part? My judgment on the direction was almost always right, but the money still disappeared.
Later, I forced myself to review those settlement records and finally understood—I didn’t lose to the market trends, I was buried by a few invisible pitfalls.
The first pitfall, I call it “impulse syndrome.” Whenever there’s a slight move in the market, my hands would itch. I’d see the price break a certain level, get heated, and go all-in. The result? As soon as I entered, I’d get wiped out by a sudden long wick, with no time to react.
The second pitfall is even more hidden. Back then, I was super “professional,” setting myself iron-clad stop-loss lines—3%, 5%, strictly enforced. Sounds solid, right? But with contracts, the volatility is at least ten times that of spot trading. That tiny stop-loss range is just a snack on the table for the market makers.
I remember clearly, there was a period when I got stopped out by “fake breakouts” three times in a row. The price would touch my stop-loss line and then immediately reverse, surging like crazy in the exact direction I originally predicted. All I could do was watch helplessly from the sidelines, feeling unbelievably frustrated. That’s when I realized: stop-losses need to be flexible, adjusted to market volatility, not fixed at a single number.
The third pitfall is the deadliest—going all-in and gambling everything. The thrill of betting everything at once is real, but it’s also the fastest way to blow up. So what if you’re right about the direction? If there are a few candles going the other way, your margin is gone in an instant. The night I got liquidated, staring at the words “balance zero” on the screen, I felt completely hollowed out.
Since then, I’ve set strict rules for myself:
First, no matter how confident I am, never go all-in—always split my funds into three parts;
Second, stop-losses can’t be set on a whim—they have to be adjusted with volatility;
Third, if the direction isn’t clear, don’t act—staying out is also a valid position.
With these rules, I went from repeated liquidations to steady account growth, tripling my funds in a year. Looking back now, the most important lesson that 730,000 tuition fee bought me is this:
In this market, the one who laughs last is never the one with the most accurate predictions, but the one who manages to survive.
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