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Dude, I think that metaphor nailed it. I really like it.
If the QB focuses on the interception, then on next drive he won’t be able to focus on those upcoming plays, or worse, ***** try to make up for the interception by creating a big play, and in doing so substantially increase the odds that ***** throw another interception.
I feel this exact way about recovering from gambling. If I can’t let the money go and move on, then the only thing left is to win it back. I’ve been in that exact spot a couple of different ***** in recovery and have thrown another interception trying to make up for the last one. This last time (after two years of not gambling) I convinced myself that I could make up for the last interception(s) by throwing a series of short passes (small bets). When the short passes were incomplete, forcing me to make up the yards another way, I started throwing the hail mary.
Wouldn’t you know it, another interception.I decided to quit when I was 25. And when I was 26, 27, 28, etc. Always after tremendous losses and always soon forgotten. I guess I decided that since I had the shovel already in hand and the hole could still be dug, that my bottom wasn’t yet attained. I was correct.
20 years, a couple of hundred thousand dollars, a suicide attempt and incarceration later, I woke up and realized that all those horror stories I’d heard from those ‘loser’ compulsive gamblers (that didn’t pertain to me since I actually won often ***** when I gambled), actually did pertain to me and I was the epitome of a compulsive gambler.
It’s fortunate that you’ve accepted and realized that gambling is destructive at such a young age. Cherish this gift and don’t forget it.
We’re here for you, on this forum. At any time, feel free to share your recovery experience with us, both the ups and downs. Your recovery story also helps us with ours, as you’ll come to understand.
I literally couldn’t stand GA meetings until I realized that I don’t have to do one single thing I don’t want to do.
What I mean is this:
– I don’t have to complete the twelve steps should I choose not to, which I haven’t. 1 & 2 are good enough for me.
– I don’t have to speak.
– I don’t have to be profound if I do speak.
– I don’t have to like or become friends with every (or any) person there.
– I don’t have to read the literature and agree with it 100%
– I don’t have to like being there.
For me, GA was kind of a pain and it often ***** caused me more grief than I should have allowed it to. But the stories I heard, resulting in the knowledge and appreciation that I was not alone in this dark addiction – and that there is hope for us all – were invaluable to me at the time and still resonate to this day.
We will never stop unless we choose to. You have. Good luck and remember, this journey is complete with dramatic ups and downs. Don’t give too much weight to your emotions for a while.
Matters little to me where you got that phrase from, the end result is it made it’s way from God’s lips to my ears, via you. I’ve used that mental image in the last few days and it has worked for me.
What else explains having to get my money back from the casino…RIGHT NOW(!), with almost entire disregard to what will happen to the longevity in my business’ and my family’s future should I lose?
Of course, I actually did consider what would happen should I lose (barely), but the sledgehammer aspect of my addiction made me think like this: "Maybe I should wait before I go back and try to win the money back…NO! I have to go right now! This is probably the precise moment when I should go. If I don’t go now, I’ll miss this golden opportunity to win it back and will instead lose later when I should have gone and won NOW!" That right there is some pretty screwed-up and desperate thinking. But that’s what I did…many, many *****.
Using a sledgehammer also explains why I feel so tense and stressful when I’m in recovery and expect results to happen sooner than they actually do/can.
It’s impossible to sculpture the crevasses with a sledgehammer. You can demolish them or not touch them at all, but not sculpture to desire.
Sledgehammer = danchaser*.
*past-tense.
Day 27. Much better that last week.
Poetry.
I thought I’d heard all the phrases, ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’, ‘change takes time’, One day at a time’, etc., but "a chisel instead of a sledgehammer" is a new one for me, yet, it defines me.
I want instant results…too much. I’m afraid I want/demand this more than a healthy person. In fact, this just provided me with illuminating insight into the primary reasons I gambled in the first place – instant gratification for fun, excitement and quick cash. Eventually, the fun yielded to excitement and quick cash and then excitement yielded to solely quick cash and I had arrived at my destination. Gambling wasn’t fun or exciting any more, I was on a mission of instant, financial gratification and I believe its safe to say that using gambling to achieve this goal is the very definition of using a sledgehammer. It only makes sense that I would also use this strategy in my thought processes for recovery and/or anything else I’m attempting to achieve. A chisel versus a sledgehammer…it’s so simple and unintimidating at the same time. I can see how the application of this mental imaging could be beneficial.
I also appreciate how you pointed out that recovery doesn’t necessarily move in a straight line of emotional successes. Yet, this is what I was expecting; that the optimism I feel about my gambling abstinence and emotional recovery should get better and my resolve stronger each and every day/week, not stagnant or worse. Unrealistic demands will simply accomplish nothing, other than grief and quite possibly could be damaging. I had forgotten what was so obvious to me in the beginning of my recovery – that freeing (not forgetting) oneself from excessive guilt and shame is absolutely critical to a durable and lasting recovery. Another day of not gambling gets me another day closer to the person I want to become, regardless of the peaks and valleys of unrecognized emotions.
Your post really helped me to look at my recovery from a different perspective these last couple of day, and I thank you for this. I’m sure grateful I’m not alone in this quest as it sucks enough already.
Day 25 for me, with no end in sight.
Good job on the month. You reminded me of a quote – "The days are long but the years fly by". Isn’t that the truth? By going a month, you’ve proven to yourself that you can go a lifetime.
But that’s not the real underlying problem (not currently gambling), is it? I know it isn’t for me. The gambling is a by-product of a bigger issue. But just what is that issue?
Speaking of movies/shows, you (also) reminded me of a quote from another movie, As Good As It Gets, when Nicholson is standing in the crowded lobby of his psychiatrists office and boisterously asks, "What if this is as good as it gets?"
What if this is as good as it gets? I’m on my 22nd day, and I can honestly say that I felt stronger and more motivated about my recovery when I was having to fight off the first few weeks of recovery -arguably the noticeably (consciously) hardest – than I do today, even though that fight is over and has been won.
Why is this? Is it that the rush of the bet that is now gone…forever? Do I need to set another goal for myself, like going another month and if so, how do I psyche myself up for this to the same level and with the same enthusiasm that I did for this last one? Is it the having to accept the financial reality that is mine, without the illusionary belief (escape) in my ability to acquire more, easy money from gambling? Is it lingering guilt and regret, or a combination of all of these and maybe many more factors? I’m more than happy to work on my ‘thing’ that has lead me back to gambling so many ***** before, but just what is this ‘thing’? How can I fight an enemy that I cannot recognize or understand the motivations of?
I’m simply left tense and waiting, on guard. For what? I don’t know, all I know is that I can’t gamble and later on, I’m told (by others and myself), it’ll be easier and I’ll feel better and understand myself more. So…OK, this is my goal. Blind faith. Can’t live with it, can’t live without it. Day to (son-of-a-bitchin’) day.
I can easily see why cross-addiction exists because this **** ain’t easy, to the contrary, it’s extremely frustrating. Turning to the bottle or a pill would be so comforting at the moment.
*phew* That felt really good typing that!
ps – I also am a HUGE fan of Breaking Bad. Too bad it’s almost over. No need to panic though, Breaking Bad fans also enjoy Homeland and House Of Cards.
pss – Judging from your posts, Sirena, it’s obvious your educational background is substantial. Mine is limited. But in a strange way, it’s comforting to know that gambling addiction can suck us all in, regardless of whatever knowledge we’ve armed ourselves with. That we’re not ignorant freaks, just regular people who got unwittingly caught up in an addiction.
Welcome, Bdesail986!
Lizbeth4 made a good point. GA is a good start for you if you haven’t been yet. Even though it’s not the end-all-beat-all cure (for me, anyway), it’s a good place to go when you’re feeling down about your addiction because you will be surrounded by people who understand and can relate. And surprisingly – for being such degenerate and selfish people that gamblers are (wink) – you’ll find some of the most eager to help and concerned people you’ll ever meet there. No one can give better advice to a compulsive gambler than a long-time recovering compulsive gambler.
Good job and keep abstaining!
Good point, Harry.
Many (if not most) of the compulsive gamblers I know are not ‘losers’ in the classical sense that we unfortunately ascribe to our fellow brothers and sisters. But we are losers at gambling.
Let’s be honest, we wouldn’t be here if we weren’t in the red from gambling. Of course, if this were ever the case (gambler’s winning AND taking it home with them), the casinos would simply remove all the tables and machines. I’ve even witnessed gamblers who were anything but compulsive, win substantial sums. But in the end, and over time, they too give it all back…with interest. This is precisely why the casinos never sweat. To the contrary, they spend vast sums to bring even the most experienced players to their casino. Do they appreciate a reality we don’t? Yep.
The crucial ingredient in the creation of a compulsive gambler (in my opinion) is someone who has not only won a substantial sum, but one who has done so multiple ***** and/or consistently, only to give it all back and then chase the losses, because (unlike the casual gambler) time and time again, they have proven to themselves that they can win. So, ‘loser’ in he classical sense of never winning? No, this does not fit. In fact, compulsive gamblers usually have gambling ‘skills’ – the ability to win – in far greater capacity than just your average gambler.
Personal example: The LA Dodgers (of whom I’m not even a fan of) are currently on an 8 game winning streak and have won something like 38 of their last 45 games. My plan (latest gambling rationale) was to bet on them every day, but also bet on no other team and absolutely NOT hit the blackjack table. I followed the plan for many weeks. It was (is) a profitable and logical gambling plan. At this point, my ever-increasing bet amount would have been gloriously high and I’d be raking it in daily. Weekly, I’d be up somewhere in the 200-300% range of the week’s bet total. Funny twist though, I’m not up, I’m down. Not just down for the week, I’ve lost of all the winnings, PLUS the original investment, PLUS thousands on top of that, even though the entire time I was cashing in my winning stubs for the Dodger’s bets. Sure, I can win…for a while, but in the end, I’ll never keep it because my compulsion will not allow it.
My compulsion simply does not afford me the desired outcome, no matter how meager, reasonable or grand. I believe this is true for not only most compulsive gamblers, but all compulsive gamblers. The unfortunate reality is that even if a compulsive gambler won a million dollars, whatever wasn’t frivolously spent would be right back in the casino’s hands before a year’s time had passed (if not sooner).
Today I’m beginning the fourth day of my newfound recovery. My third day was not that easy. I was very tired. I believe my exhaustion was from mental anguish, coupled with the fighting to think positive, and physical lack of sleep. I didn’t feel as positive as I had about never gambling again and those familiar, ultimately disastrous thoughts crept back into my head. Thoughts like "Well, you don’t necessarily have to quit forever. One day, after you’ve gone a long time without gambling and thus have a fatter bank roll, you can go back and hit ’em hard and fast. But this time, you’ll stick to the script." It’s imperative that I find a way to dismiss entirely this insane notion. This part of me is not well.