2x WSOP Bracelet Winner Who Lost Himself — and Found Redemption
Executive Case Study: Steve Sung
2x WSOP Bracelet Winner
I’ve worked with elite performers around the world — CEOs, athletes, artists — but every so often, someone comes into your life who reminds you why you do this work in the first place.
Steve Sung was one of those people.
When I first heard about Steve, he was on the edge. A poker prodigy with nearly a million in tournament winnings by his early twenties — and yet, he was spiraling into a darkness so deep, even he didn’t believe he could be pulled out.
His mother reached out to me after hearing about my work through someone at church. She had tried everything — doctors, pills, therapies, spiritual healers — and nothing had worked. Her son was trapped inside his own mind, isolated by trauma, addiction, and fear. I knew this kind of pain. And I knew it could be healed — if the person was willing.
Steve was skeptical. But when we met, there was a moment — and I’ll never forget it — when I looked him in the eye and saw the part of him that hadn’t given up. Not yet.
That was all I needed.
Addiction, Trauma, and the Poker Face
What most people didn’t see was how hard Steve was suffering behind his poker face. He had a hypersensitivity to drugs — and what others could dabble with casually, Steve’s nervous system absorbed like a flood. He became addicted quickly. Ecstasy, benzos, cigarettes. What started as numbing led to full-blown social anxiety, paranoia, and near-collapse.
He told me later that he thought people were coming to kill him. And he meant it. This wasn’t just anxiety — this was the nervous system hijacked by trauma.
Despite the chaos, Steve still performed. That’s the paradox with high-functioning trauma. He was winning tournaments even while falling apart. Unconscious competence — muscle memory from years of obsessive practice — kept him in the game.
But no amount of poker chips could buy him peace.
Ten Days of Unraveling — and Rebuilding
When I work with a client, I don’t focus on surface behavior. I go deep — into the subconscious, into the stored trauma that’s been looping like an old tape since childhood.
Steve had triggers — emotional and somatic — that kept replaying fear, shame, and anxiety every time life pushed on those wounds. That’s how addiction starts. That’s how it stays.
In just ten days, we cleared the addictions — all of them. Cigarettes included. We moved trauma from his body, rewired mental triggers, and began building the foundations of a new life — body, mind, and spirit.
He trained in martial arts. Lifted weights. Meditated. Journaled. Cried. Reclaimed his power. He wasn’t just recovering; he was reawakening.
By the time I left, he didn’t just look different. He was different.
From Collapse to Champion
A year and a half later, I was standing inside the Rio in Las Vegas, watching Steve take a seat at the final table of a $25,000 WSOP tournament. He’d barely scraped into the event thanks to a backer who cashed just in time to stake him. He started late and short-stacked.
But Steve didn’t flinch. Not this version of Steve.
He moved with clarity. He was grounded. Focused. When he went heads-up against Phil Galfond — someone who had taken a lot of money from him during his lowest moments — Steve wasn’t playing to prove anything.
He was playing because he believed in himself again.
There’s a pivotal hand where Galfond check-raises on the flop. Steve had only a middle pair. A weaker man folds. A mechanical player calls with hesitation. But Steve didn’t second-guess. He knew. He followed through, re-raised on the turn, and Galfond eventually mucked his hand.
Eight hands later, Steve won his second bracelet — $1.2 million and a full-circle moment of redemption.
More Than a Poker Story
This isn’t just about cards or cash. It’s about something deeper — the kind of healing that makes a person whole again.
When people ask me what I do, I tell them I help people remember who they really are — before the trauma, before the anxiety, before the self-doubt.
I believe we are born free, clean, and powerful. Then life happens — trauma, fear, loss, abuse — and it clouds us. But it never destroys us. The core of who we are stays intact. We just have to learn how to access it again.
That’s what happened with Steve. He didn’t just become sober. He became awake.
Why I’m Sharing This
Because someone out there needs to hear this.
Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s someone you love. Maybe it’s someone who’s convinced that no one can help them — like Steve once was.
Let this story remind you: healing is possible. Trauma is not permanent. And when you clear the weight you’ve been carrying, what’s left is power — raw, authentic, unstoppable power.
Steve Sung is living proof.
And if it can happen for him, it can happen for you.
“Ray Johnston saved my life.”