Every day that passes by, takes us a day further away from the bet but also means we are a day older…nearer to the “hasbeen” stage. All the more reason none of us is free to waste time gambling.
I used to think “I don’t want to grow old in the casino”, but when I looked in the mirror I knew I had grown old. Very old! Gambling ages us. There is no doubt about that. The stress, strain, grief, borrowing, wheeling and dealing not to mention the distances that I drove.
Do I want to do all that again? All for the sake of a “buzz” that didn’t even exist in the end? Sometimes I get vague flashbacks, happy memories, “magic moment” images. Mainly thoughts of walking through the door and placing a note in the “slot”. Sick thoughts , that I never dwell on. It takes a long long time for the human brain to obliterate images and memories.
I think that every CG has “another bet in him/her” . I have heard men in GA telling how they went back gambling after 20 years. They did it by choice. None of us ever woke up in the bookies or in the casino, real or virtual.
Yes, I did put some effort into not gambling, I-did-it but not half as much as I put into gambling . The strides I went to so that I could spend endless hours in a casino would be considered incredible if not deranged to a non gambler. I remember telling you I was standing at the gate waiting for the “agent” to arrive with a high interest loan….and I would vow and swear “not this time will I gamble one cent” and the following day I would be screaming at myself and pulling my hair out literally asking why, w h y WHY did I do it AGAIN???!!! And so it continued until I just could not take any more.
I honestly don’t think I have another recovery in me.
I drove into the train station today…couldn’t get the parking meter to work. Took a number off the wall with the intention of phoning when I got on the train to pay the fee to keep clampers away…pushed my way through the crowds alighting six other trains. Saw the train on the platform. “Portlairge” . Elbowed the ticket guy to let me through saying “I’ll get my ticket on the train” only to be told “The train doors are closed love, can’t let you through”. I gave him an evil look and came back to the car park only to find the car two up from mine, clamped. I would have been next…I hate missing trains. I hate being clamped even more.
Is this RECOVERY?
When I gambled I got loads of parking tickets and on more than one occasion got locked in underground car parks that I would have entered “for an hour” at 2pm only to return at 2am. In the past I would have driven straight to a casino because “missing a train means I am entitled to gamble”. Not today. Today I came home…only to be greeted with an earful from “himself”for being so stupid and irresponsible and selfish (the car I was driving is not taxed) Again, a “reason” to gamble and “sort him out”.
..NAW!!
Not today. Too much effort.
I still didn’t collect the money even though I drove past the place where I know it is.
Maybe tomorrow.
