Cold coffee & Blunders: How chess became my therapist

It always starts the same:
A cup of cold coffee. A late night. A chessboard glowing on my screen.

And somehow… that 64-square grid knows exactly what kind of day I’ve had.

 
♟️ The Board Doesn’t Judge
You could lose 5 games in a row, hang your queen twice, premove into a mate —
but the board never laughs.
It just resets.

No fake smiles. No advice. Just a quiet: "Your move."

 
🧠 Therapy in 3 Phases:
Opening: Chaos. Like life. Full of sharp lines and unpredictable replies.
Middlegame: Decisions. Regrets. Discoveries.
Endgame: Acceptance. Simplification. Clarity.
You come out lighter, somehow. Win or lose.

 
🥀 A Blunder Means You Tried
Some people run. Some people journal. I blunder.

Every mistake I make on the board mirrors something I’m figuring out in real life.

I rush. I overlook. I panic.
Then I breathe. I learn. I rematch.

 
🖤 So Yeah, Chess is My Therapist
It doesn’t nod. It doesn’t talk back.
But it listens in its own quiet way.

And that’s enough.

 
🧩 Final Note:
If your brain ever feels heavy, open a game. Not to win. Just to feel.

Let your pieces speak what your heart hasn’t said yet.