Years ago I saw a pamphlet in a casino titled “When is the Fun Stops”, it’s strange because I can recall feeling embarrassed, and insulted, at the same time.  I wasn’t having fun, and it seemed impossible to me that anyone could be having fun gambling. And a pamphlet was there, free for the taking, by the casino cage, that was supposed to help “when the fun stops”?  I was mad. At a pamphlet. I was mad at myself.  

I’ve been reading posts here that talk about big wins possibly being the trigger to becoming a compulsive gambler.  I had my big win about 30 yrs ago.  Big win!  Ha!  I was betting high, in a panic, losing my entire paycheck again.  I won, I knew I had to get home before I was any later than I already was.  I worked in a casino. My brother also worked there. I zip up to his restaurant and gave him a big chunk of my winnings.  I gave my mom a big chunk, too.  My boyfriend, now my husband was furious at me.  I treated my kids to some cool stuff.  I thought sharing my winnings made me a happy gambler?  Yeah, that’s a question I still can’t answer.  My husband was mad at me because he sensed the facade I was putting up wasn’t real, it was fake.  He knew me well enough to know something was wrong with me.  I remember the first time he ever saw me gambling he told me I was addicted, did he say addicted, I’m not even sure, but it was something along the lines of I shouldn’t be gambling if that’s what it did to me.  

You know what?  After that big win I tried to convince myself I wouldn’t gamble anymore.  I tried, I wished?  I told myself it didn’t matter if my boyfriend thought I shouldn’t gamble, so what.  I kept gambling, now trying to make sure no one knew about it, fooling myself.  I took out payday loans, some at really crappy places, and snuck around trying to pay the minimum on those.  I grew to hate those places.  I grew to hate myself more. 

Talk about living one day at a time, I was living with panic every second of every day.  Boom!  I was gonna get caught!  Boom!  I was gonna get caught!  I couldn’t get anymore loans. I couldn’t keep a paycheck. I could only borrow a bit from my family and friends.   Panic.  Told my boyfriend.  He paid the loans.  He swore he would leave me if I did it again.  

I did it again.  No loan sharks, not this time.  Sneaky. Sneakier. Sneakiest.  Stupid dabs of money, for what? Ugly excuses and lies as to why my boyfriend was still paying for everything.  He knew.  I knew he knew. It wasn’t about money anymore.  He paid the bills, angry at me, he’d bring my gambling up sometimes.   I’d play dead, play dead?  I felt dead.  I blamed him.  

This is an ugly addiction.  Since way back then I did manage to abstain from gambling for periods of times.  I always felt like I was being punished, as if everyone else could gamble except for me.  That if I didn’t gamble everyone else could be happy.  I even believed that if I didn’t gamble I would somehow, automatically become stronger.  I didn’t.  I was empty inside.  I couldn’t forgive myself for the heartbreak I caused my family.  I felt like a freak.  I pasted on a smile.  I hated looking at myself in the mirror.

And I gambled again.  And quit.  And gambled again, and quit, again...

This is a long post.  I could go on and on about the pain.  It’s horrible.  Don’t get me wrong, abstinence without recovery is still better than feeding any addiction.  I quit gambling so many times, I know it’s not easy. Just stop. It’s not easy.  

Almost a yr ago I quit gambling, again.  My rock bottom was insanity.  Somehow I knew I had to quit gambling because nothing in my life would ever make sense unless I did. 

“I have to admit it’s getting better, a little better all the time”  Beatles fan here 

I’m in a new place, on a journey filled with hope and love.  

Today I will not gamble