Similar to you, a friend invited me in. I won and lost. For many years, I blamed that friend. I realize now...I made that choice to continue on...and that friend, as sick as he is, I was responsible for my own actions.

That is also why I never take my friends to the casino. I don't blame my friend, but I know the damage it can cause and I wouldn't wish it on my friends.

I knew when I was 16 or 17 that I wanted to gamble. Specifically, there was something about slot machines that appealed to me. Maybe it's because I'm an 80's kid ... raised on video games, talking toys and color TV. Something about those machines just called to me. My grandfather had told me quite a few glorified stories of Vegas ... staying up all night on the silver dollar slots with his brother, Billy, losing track of time, stumbling out of the casino and into a 99 cent breakfast buffet at 7am. Even though he often referred to the slots as "the one armed bandits," I only remembered his winning stories. Or, maybe that's all he ever really told me.

I just know there was something about those glamorous tales that made me want to try my luck. The first time I had the chance to do so was on a Sea Escape cruise. I was about 16 and obviously wasn't old enough to gamble. Somehow, I managed to get away with it for an hour or two. I remember jumping from machine to machine, feeling like an outlaw. I was winning, too. When I was approached by a staff member, I played it cool... was as adult-like as I could be. She asked how old I was and I didn't even know what the legal age to gamble on the boat was (just knew I wasn't old enough), so I replied "17." She asked for all of my quarters and told me I had to leave. I had 2 or 3 buckets, and I refused to hand my money over. I took it to my family members and went off to the "kids" area. I don't remember much after that, other than feeling left out, lonely, sad. I know I enjoyed playing the slots that day, but I was so nervous about getting caught that my first experience was (thankfully) fairly tainted.

At some point, I had also purchased a $1 scratch ticket out of a machine in a Sam's Club store. I believe I was 16/17 at the time. I won $500 and my mom had to cash it in for me. That money kept me going for over a year ... movies, bowling, eating out with friends, gas in my car here and there. Hard to believe, but true. I was so happy to have won it - it felt like millions. And I was so conservative about my spending back then.

I didn't think much about gambling again for a few years. Then, when I was 19, my mom got on a kick to visit the Indian casino. None of us had ever been, and she kept hearing from friends at work how much fun it was; slots, bingo, poker. At the time, this casino was really the only game in town in South Florida. Since then, many more have sprung up, including the massive Hollywood Hard Rock.

Anyway, the first time that we made the trek down that dark, dangerous, winding road (probably one of the most fatal stretches of road in Miami), was a Friday night during the weekend of my mom's 39th birthday -- just my grandparents, my mom and I. Armed with a mere twenty bucks, I won $90 on a video poker machine. That was it for me. I believe we went back for the next two nights. I don't remember if I was ahead or behind at the end of the weekend, but it was that first big win that made me think it was all oh-so-easy.

In no time at all, my mom and I began making regular visits to this particular casino. I was in college, living on campus about 30 minutes away. My mom would get off at work at 2:30am, and I just couldn't wait to slip out there in the middle of the night with her. We were like a couple of crazies; but there was something about it that always felt so good. I was always smiling when I met her there. We both were. Though not for long, usually.

There was also a real sense of rebellion built in to those early experiences ... the late hour, neglecting our respective responsibilities, the crappy, often-fried cafe food, or the plentiful breakfast buffet (which we usually only stopped to enjoy if we'd won). It was exciting to meet her there a few times a week. We had never had a very close relationship, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like we were bonding. Even in our losses, we would console each other.

On the rare occasions that we both won, it felt like we'd crossed over the rainbow and found some elusive pot of gold. We'd come out after a few hours, early in the morning, smelling like filthy ash trays, but exhaling nothing other than pure euphoria. I'd head east, right into the sunrise and back to my cold, moldy dorm room with the shutters closed (that way I could sleep most of the day away without the light streaming into my eyes). My mom would head south to go home. She'd stop to pick up our dog (who spent the evenings with my grandparents), then head home to feed our band of cats before hitting the sack. She'd often go to sleep around 9 or 10am, then have to be back up around 3pm to go to work. The insanity had already begun - we just weren't ready to face it squarely.

We'd often talk on our cell phones the whole way home, reveling in our wins or sulking over our losses. As time went on, those conversations often shifted toward how we planned to dig ourselves out of our new found debts. We were tallying all of our wins/losses in a book. I don't remember watching the numbers rise until we hit around 16k (combined), after a couple years or so, I think. I knew then that we were both in trouble, especially since there were plenty of losses that weren't even included in our tally (all those times I'd slipped off to the casino alone, lost more money, and never reported back to our little brown book).

Looking back on all this now, I can see just how quickly we'd both gotten so very crazed and sick. Yet, right in line with the crazy illness, those late night/early morning memories still hold the same kind of appeal to me as some of those first stories I'd heard of my grandfather's gambling adventures with his brother.

This was just the beginning ... slots, video poker. Eventually, I got brave and ventured into online poker, and later on, real tables with friends and at the casinos.

That's where the innocent fun turned into a blood thirsty competition - not only with those around the table, but also with myself. Just like in all other areas of my life, I had to be the best. I had to be the smartest. I had to have the most chips.

And I'd be willing to give up just about anything to make sure that happened ....

The truth is, it often did. I destroyed the felt, both online and in person. I came out ahead in 70-80% of the sessions I played. I was really rockin' things ... Until I'd walk out of the poker room and onto a slot machine (or later, a Blackjack or Three Card Poker or War table). That familiar late night destruction/compulsion from my early days of gambling with my mother almost always returned. Not-being-able-to-just-stop-and-go-home (whether winning OR losing) wasn't enough for me to really take a step back. No, no. I had to do lots and lots of financial damage before I'd even be willing to slow down, let alone stop ... or give up.

And if you made it through all that, thanks for reading my story. I've never really written it out like that before...

Encouragement and strength to all this weekend.

East - I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention. And I get where you're coming from.

However, I must say that in my GA room, this seems to happen on the regular. With the exception of using numbers/dollar amounts (something forbidden in the room), many graphic gambling stories do come out of people - kind of like blood spilling onto the floor. And yes, sometimes it's hard to listen because it actually MAKES me want to gamble. But if I don't tune out the rest of what usually follows, I always realize how sick this person has become, and how the flashy lights and/or whirly cards are just temptation to lead you right back down the path to insanity.

I think for some of us, especially those in early recovery (I'm at around 95 days) it's necessary to really re-think through steps that got us here. I've never done it before, not even in my meetings have I really shared about my gambling itself. It was cathartic for me to write all this out, and I am thankful I just took that journey down memory lane. I see how easy it was for me to get trapped, how easy it was for me to fall prey to my desire to spend time with my mom/family, and how all of that (among many many other things that I didn't even get into) really tied into what led to such a path of destruction for me.

I hope it does not serve as a trigger for someone else. I obviously wouldn't be here if those early stories (glorified) were the norm for my gambling 'career.' They were the beginnings of pure evil for me.

I hope that makes sense; and again, I my intention wasn't to offend or create a trigger for anyone. Let me be clear: gambling has really destroyed my life. Or, rather, I have. I'm 28 and I have so much work to do to feel like I'm even living/working at my potential.

You seem very far along in recovery - perhaps remembering the needle/taste in your mouth isn't where you need to be, but it's definitely where I need to be. I need vividly/mentally revisit how I ended up here, because sometimes I'm not even sure. And if I forget about all of the horrible things that happened while I was gambling, surely, I'll be right back out there.

My apologies, again. Hugs to you. ~LJ

Started as a $5 bet on a baseball game with my brother. Harmless enough, right? Now 28 years later, I've wasted around $70,000 on gambling and feel I got no chance of ever getting rid of this awful addiction.

I started off by buying lottery tickets here and there. Then, on my 21 birthday, I was taken to the casino and won over 3000. I said this may be an easy way to make money but ever since, I lost that plus at least thousands of my own money. Now I find myself thinking about winning it back everyday and am miserable.

My problem also started with a win-and then down the hole of losses not just money but so much time and then telling lies to cover. I like to think of myself as a sane, smart person but this gambling turned me into a loser in so many ways. BTW, LJ your story inspirded me to write down my spiral down, when you read these things it shows have insane and illogical these addictions are.

I never had a problem with gambling. Currently I more have addiction problems with alcohol and cigarettes.

I had this dream for a few years that I was going to martingale the craps table, I just had to save up $4094 for the $2-$2000 table at my local casino.

Once I bought in for $1000, and I tried to do martingale, but the table minimum was $5. I think I only won one roll, then lost something like 5 rolls in a row and I was going to have to lay down $160 to get my money back, and if I lost that, $320. I decided I was going to leave my super-short gambling session, down $155. That was the most I ever lost at a casino, and in the shortest amount of time as well.

Since that was a lot of money, I decided since I wasn't going to martingale the craps table anytime soon, I just played on a craps simulator with no money on the line. After hours and hours of simulating, I had one roll that I lost 10 rolls in a row. I knew then and there that if it was real money, I would be terrified to pony up $2000 to win my money back, I did and won but I knew I would never want to come that close to losing $4000+ in a night with real money.

BUt it was then and there that I realized the fatal flaw in Martingale, and for that matter, any other table at the casino. The House edge wears you down in the long run, regardless.

Somewhere along the way, I googled house edges, and found that virtually every casino game, there is a house edge that will take your money most of the time. Think about adding all your wins and losses together and you probably have lost money, or if you have won money, not much in the grand scheme of things.

I then looked up interviews with professional gamblers, and there are 2 ways of beating the casino, cheating which has only been done by a handful of savvy people, and being good at poker and exploiting lower skilled players.

Even then, I wouldn't want to make a living gambling, adding in your losses I would think that the wages are rather low. My dad once yelled at me because he could tell I potentially had a gambling addiction in its infancy, he said, if you want to make money at a casino, get a job there, dont gamble there.

I think everyone has a right to discuss how they got started and try to figure out what went wrong. This is part of healing and therapy. You can't just brush it under the table and forget that it ever happened. Every time someone shares their story it may help someone else. For me, when I go to GA, there is nothing like that. it's never about how they got there, what has helped them to recover and what steps they are taking. It's like they just want to forget...well, I don't want to forget. I want to find out how this happened to me...I want to find out why someone who never drank, did drugs, was a shopoholic, or had another type of addiction became a compulsive gambler. I want to find out ways to recover and heal from this dreadful disease. What works for one will not work for another.
Everyone, please read the above title of this site, it says "Gambling Addiction & Recovery Support Group" . This means people are here on this site looking for answers, wanting to help others and they want to share there stories and not be judged. Where else can they do that? You can't cross talk/comment in GA, you read the same lines in the book each week and then you have about 5 minutes to "share", they talk about how their week is going, about work and how grateful that they are to be in GA. I have yet to hear anyone offer really sound advice and help. I have been going for a year now in 2 different states. I was really hoping that it would be different in my new town but it's not...not for me.
I am not saying that it doesn't work, and I will continue to go to GA, but I also know for myself I need support in other ways. What I am saying that people have to find what works for them. Give them options, allow them to speak, allow them to write. Sometime sharing how they feel in writing is therapy. People who read their post may relate and get an "ah-ha" moment. Allow people to share what has worked for them...this is what support is.

All I can think of is "puke city". Nothing I want to really remember about or care to think back on. However it happened, it caused issue and now I'm trying to fix it. There isn't a grain of nostalgia or interesting stories from it at all...I mean this in regards to my case. I rather hear a long humming noise than piece it together in a historical sense.