If you had asked me a few years ago where my path was headed, I would’ve said media, branding, storytelling. And in a way, I wasn’t wrong—but I had no idea how personal that path would eventually become. I have spent the last year at a company called BSide Media, a company rooted in something deeper than just content. During my time at BSide, we have talked a lot about values—and one in particular has
We’ve all been there. A product goes on sale, a breaker runs a promo, or you spot a rare card priced just low enough to feel like a steal. The adrenaline hits, your brain goes into rationalization mode and suddenly you’re buying something you never planned for. The problem is, not every “good deal” is good for you. When we’re deep in the hobby, especially during a season of heavy new releases, it can feel
It’s easy to get caught up in the rush of the hobby these days. Every week brings a new release, a fresh wave of excitement and a sense that something big is happening—that you might miss out if you’re not part of it. The energy around it can be contagious, especially when it’s coming from people who clearly love what they do and are passionate about the cards they’re breaking. But sometimes, that constant buzz
Let’s make one thing clear: Loving the hobby and protecting your well-being are not mutually exclusive. At Collectors MD, we talk a lot about accountability, boundaries and the emotional toll of compulsive collecting—and for good reason. The highs are addictive, the spending can spiral, and when things get out of control, the damage runs deep. But here’s something just as important to remember: You can still collect. You can still love the cards, the art,
There’s a moment right before you launch something real—something that actually matters—where doubt floods in like a tidal wave. Lately, I’ve been sitting in that moment. I believe deeply in what Collectors MD stands for. I know there’s a need. I’ve lived the need. And yet, in the first few days of CMD’s inception, I have felt completely unequipped to be the one carrying this forward. Who am I to lead this?\ What if I
Lately, I’ve felt a surge of resentment every time a breaking clip pops up on my feed. Whether it’s someone screaming over a hit or pushing fillers in a 3AM livestream, I feel this visceral reaction—frustration, even anger. I scroll past fast, sometimes with a pit in my stomach. It’s not just fatigue. It feels like a form of PTSD. A flashback to moments I don’t want to relive—the shame of overspending, the thrill that
One of the most critical—and difficult—things to do in the collector’s journey is to hold yourself accountable when you feel the spiral beginning. We’ve all been there. A big win or an exciting pull triggers a dopamine rush. Maybe a grail card pops up late at night, and suddenly you’re rationalizing a purchase that doesn’t fit your budget or long-term goals. You tell yourself it’s a one-time thing, that it’ll all even out. But those
Walk into any casino, turn on a sportsbook app or even glance at a fantasy platform and one thing is immediately clear: responsible gambling messaging is everywhere. “Know your limits.” “Play responsibly.” “Call this number if you need help.” Whether it’s mandated by law or implemented voluntarily, these prompts exist because the industries they support recognize the psychological risks that come with high-stakes environments built on chance. But in the hobby? Not a word. No
For years, collecting brought me joy. It gave me community, nostalgia and excitement. I loved the chase, the hits, the hobby. I still do. But somewhere along the way, that excitement turned into obsession. What started as fun became compulsive. I was chasing more than just cards—I was chasing dopamine, distraction, validation. And I didn’t realize how far it had gone until it was too late. I found myself in financial ruin. Owing money to
