May has been... well, a disaster for me. While everyone else is out there celebrating green candles and new highs, I'm over here trying to convince myself that red is just another shade of green if you squint hard enough.
Here's what I do when my portfolio is down:
1. The Magical Eye Icon: Out of Sight, Out of Mind
The first thing I do is press that little eye icon in the app that hides my portfolio. Boom! Instant peace. It turns all my painful red positions into beautiful, meaningless asterisks.
It's like putting a blanket over a ghost — technically, the problem's still there, but emotionally? Gone.
Also, this is a selective operation: I hide the red positions. The green ones? I let them glow. Those stay visible. It's important to maintain morale.
2. Pretending I'm a Long-Term Visionary
When someone asks how my portfolio is doing, I say things like:
“I'm investing for 2060, not for the next 3 months.”
What I really mean is: "I'm trapped in these positions and praying they go up before I turn 70.”
3. Change Mindset = Change Reality (Sort Of)
Stock is down 30%? Fantastic! That's not a loss, it's a buying opportunity. I tell myself, "Great news! I can now double down on my mistake at half the price!" It's not denial, it's... optimistic reframing.
TLH
4. Only Read Comforting Quotes
I carefully curate my reading list to only include quotes like:
-
"The stock market is a device for transferring money from the impatient to the patient." - Warren Buffett
-
"It's only a loss if you sell” — which sounds wise until you realize you've been saying it every month for a year.
Sometimes I even quote myself. For example:
"If you never look at your portfolio, it never goes down." – Spiders, 2025
5. Wishful Thinking (A Core Part of the Strategy)
Any stock that's tanking? There's still hope. Maybe it'll become a meme stock. There's always the tiniest voice in my head whispering: "Hey... what if this dead stock turns into the next GameStop?" I believe in miracles.
6. Comparative Suffering
I go on forums and look for people who are doing worse than me — not to laugh, but to feel less alone in the chaos. Misery loves company, and investing misery has a very active online community. "Oh no, your stock went to zero? Mine just filed for bankruptcy twice." It's oddly comforting — not because others are struggling, but because it reminds me I'm not the only one fumbling my way through this market.
Final Thoughts:
Investing is a roller coaster. Except on my roller coaster, the seatbelt's missing, the brakes don't work, and the operator quit mid-ride. But I'm still here. Hiding my portfolio, laughing through the pain, and waiting for the day the market says, "Hey spiders, you were right all along.”
Until then… asterisks mode: ON.
Comments