The strangest thing about not using a stop loss isn’t ignorance. It’s emotion.
I’ve seen the chart. I knew where I should get out. I just didn’t want to accept it.
Early on, I told myself I was being patient. That the market just needed time. Price dipped, then dipped again, and I stared at the screen like it owed me something. Closing the trade felt heavier than the loss itself. Once you exit, the loss becomes real. As long as you stay in, there’s still a story you can tell yourself.
Sometimes it worked. A bounce came. I felt smart, almost proud of my “strong hands.” That feeling stayed longer than it should have. It quietly trained me to ignore risk. I started believing that every red candle was temporary, that every drawdown was just noise. That belief cost more than any single bad trade.
There were nights I checked the chart half-asleep, heart racing, doing math I didn’t want to finish. I remember thinking, if it comes back to entry, I’ll close. It rarely did. When it didn’t, I lowered my expectations. Then lowered them again.
Not using a stop loss wasn’t about strategy. It was about ego, fear, and hope mixing into something dangerous. I didn’t want to be wrong. I didn’t want to feel small. Over time, the market didn’t argue. It just waited.
Eventually, I understood something quietly: losses hurt once. Avoiding them hurts slowly, over and over.