The allure of a Sony VX1000 camera had always been strong. When the 2020 stock market crash hit, I saw a golden opportunity to finally make that dream a reality.
On March 16th, 2020, I took my first plunge into the stock market, a day that marked its lowest point. California’s lockdown followed, leaving me with ample time at home, coupled with generous COVID relief funds from unemployment and stimulus checks. I began trading stocks, and after absorbing countless stock market videos and articles, I ventured into the world of options trading. Initially, my results were inconsistent, but then I hit a streak of wins, leading me to share screenshots of my gains with friends and family.
I stared at my computer screen, a mix of disbelief and excitement washing over me. In just one month, I had amassed over $60,000 through options trading. While I won’t delve into the complexities of options trading, it essentially involves trading stocks with increased risk and reward. It was surreal. I made more money in a single month than I would have in over two years working my job as a machine operator. I felt a sense of liberation, as if I finally escaped the shackles of financial hardship. It was an incredible feeling.
A screenshot of stock gains, showing a large profit amount
A Newfound Sense of Possibility
At 26, I was feeling the weight of my looming 30s, with little to show for it. I was a college dropout, with hobbies that bordered on passions—skateboarding, filming, and writing—but I had never taken them anywhere. Now, with this new wealth, I had the potential to quit my job and explore those interests. It was a profound realization. I invested in new skateboards, clothes, and took care of my rent. I also created a brokerage account for my mom, buying her some stocks. She was thrilled, and shared my success with relatives. Soon, I was receiving requests for investment advice from people I hadn’t spoken to in years. It was both funny and flattering, as everyone regarded me as some kind of financial guru. Truthfully, I just got lucky. Still, I felt a sense of validation.
At that time, making money in the stock market was almost effortless. Buying the dip seemed to work every time. Investors were euphoric, but the situation was about to change. Before things took a turn for the worse, I discussed my gains with a supervisor at work. He advised me to withdraw my funds, cautioning that my success was simply luck. I dismissed his warnings. He shared stories of his family’s gambling habits and warned that I could lose everything. “Don’t worry,” I reassured him, “I’m playing it safe.”
A close-up of a computer screen showing stock trading charts
The Downward Spiral
It was strange that losing the first $1,000, then the next, and the next, didn’t faze me, especially given my minimum wage job. I began to treat $1,000 losses as minor inconveniences. The money felt like it wasn’t real, as if I was playing a video game. I’d lose, then I’d win. I was up at 5 or 6 am, exhausted from my midnight shifts, staring at the charts on my screen, my mood fluctuating between despair and elation with every loss and gain. My account plummeted to $50,000, then $40,000. Despite the losses, I persisted, and slowly depression crept in. The screenshots to friends and family stopped.
Once my account hit $20,000, a part of me knew that I would end up with nothing if I didn’t stop. Yet, another part of me was in denial, still believing I could recover my losses. “It was just bad risk management,” I told myself. If I was more careful, I could get back to the top and continue to grow my wealth. I felt like a fraud, no longer living up to the praise I’d received. This desire to prove that praise wasn’t misplaced became the main motivation for my trading. I moved some money from my Robinhood account to other brokerage accounts, trying to make it harder to waste it. But I kept trading with the rest.
A skateboarder sitting on a curb, looking at their phone
“I wish I would’ve just taken all that money out,” this thought echoed in my head daily. I wished it was all a nightmare, and that I’d wake up with my money back in my account. I tried to hide my emotions, but I was visibly depressed and distracted. Sometimes, when no one was home, I’d lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, overwhelmed with despair. I was consumed by trading, constantly seeking advice on Twitter, yet the same cycle of profit and loss persisted, and I couldn’t break above $20,000. I felt punished for being greedy, undisciplined, and foolish. I knew I should have been more cautious, focusing on building more wins than losses, but I continued to make risky trades, often driven by emotion.
Then, on a Friday, looking at my phone, I knew I was in trouble. I had put too much money on a single trade. Even after the market closed, I continued to torture myself, staring at the trade I placed. It was the longest weekend, hoping for some accidental win, but I knew that was unlikely.
Acceptance and a New Beginning
When Monday arrived, my account was around $9,000. I lost over half of my money. I expected to see zero, so there was a small sense of relief that I still had cash. I took out half of it. I felt I had to start from the beginning. Despite being completely defeated, there was a sense of catharsis, free from the pressure of recovering my losses.
I was still asked for advice by friends and family. At this point, I told them to be careful, because I had lost a lot, though I didn’t reveal how much. My trading continued to be erratic. I kept making money, then losing, then losing more. Eventually, I liquidated my other brokerage accounts, so I could trade more options on my Robinhood. That money was drained, too. I reached a point, sitting at my kitchen table, when I decided I was done. I withdrew most of my remaining cash and finally bought that Sony VX1000, preventing myself from using the money on options any longer.
A skateboarder filming with a VX1000 camera
My wife knew that I was losing money, but not the extent. I was afraid to tell her, and it took a lot of courage to admit. One day, in a parking lot, I finally told her everything, and I broke down crying. She wasn’t angry. She just comforted me, and that’s exactly what I needed. That was when I finally accepted my losses. My mom and aunt still let me trade with their accounts.
Long story short, I lost most of my gains by the end of December 2020. Then, I recovered a significant portion during the short squeezes of January 2021 with GameStop, AMC, and other stocks. After that, my aunt wanted her account back. I told my mom the full story about what happened with my account. She was shocked, but we laughed about it. I still felt stupid and defeated. After my aunt took back her account, I finally felt free.
A person holding a VX1000 camera
Lessons Learned
The stress was gone. I slept better, and the stock market no longer consumed my thoughts. I still checked financial news occasionally, but it wasn’t all-consuming. For the first few months, I would say “I lost a lot of money” without going into detail. I was embarrassed, but that faded over time. Looking back, it is clear that successful trading is rooted in qualities like patience, self-control, and emotional balance.
My mistake was trying to practice these qualities only in the stock market. I should have been cultivating these habits outside of trading as well, because you won’t lose the kind of money you could lose in the stock market. I might have lost all the money I made, ending with just a $1,000 loss from my initial 2020 investment. But I still believe there’s something to trading and investing, and I might try it again someday. I simply got lucky initially and didn’t cash out.
Because of that, all I have to show for it now is this stupid story and less money. Oh well, that’s just how it goes. Play stupid games and win stupid prizes. At least I finally got a VX1000. I’ve wanted one for years.
A wide shot of a person skating, shot with a VX1000
