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Hang in there Steve. It’s almost serendipitous that I saw the notification that you posted this; just today I deleted years’ worth of old emails from my gmail account because I kept getting messages that I was reaching my free 15 GB capacity (Otherwise the update would’ve been lost among 10 thousand other updates)!
I admire your ability to be honest, to come here and admit that you’ve relapsed despite this long thread and recent accolades on your sobriety; that takes SO much courage–more than I have yet to summon. I just want you to know that I feel your pain as I, too, have been wrestling with the gambling monster within in recent months as well. I can relate to every word you said, and I am unfortunately all too familiar with the emotional roller coaster of gambling, and it is absolutely horrific.My story would take a thousand pages, but so much of what I’ve done in the past few weeks is identical to what you’ve described. I’d been clean for a while. I accidentally found where my husband had hidden about $2,500 in cash several weeks ago. It was in one of those fire-proof metal boxes, and he had the key hidden amongst a gigantic key chain with dozens of other keys. Yet still, at first I was fine. Then one day earlier this month, with little reflection at all, I took $700 of that cash to my local casino. I convinced myself I’d be in and out—a quick win, then I’d leave. All along I was lying to myself. I’d attempted the same thing countless times before, and either I was successful in winning but I put it all back before leaving the casino, or I left the casino ahead only to go back a day or two later with the intention of ‘fluffing up’ my winnings, only to lose it all.
This most recent time, I lost the $700 within an hour and a half. Just as you described, I asked myself how the F did this just happen? I SWORE to myself I would be smart this time. I’d walk away from a machine that didn’t hit after 4 or 5 pulls. Yet time after time, there I sat, pressing the fucking “repeat bet” button just ‘one more time’ because I knew the machine was about to hit.
Going to the casino in the first place wasn’t a purely impulsive decision either. Roadblocks had been put in place thanks to my history. I have a gps tracking appd on my phone which my 20 year old son can monitor (my husband doesn’t have the app on his phone since he has an android and we have iphones). I had to disable location sharing and make an excuse for when my son asked why he couldn’t see where I was.I wish I could say I’d come back to reality after losing the $700. But the adrenaline was pumping, along with the self-rage and regret, so I quickly devised a plan B: go back home to retrieve the rest of the money, and tell my 2 college age sons and my husband that I was having a social distancing visit with my best girlfriend. Of course this required making sure my best girlfriend was on board, because my poor husband has been burned so many times by my gambling excuses that I worried he might check up on me.
He didn’t check up, and I pulled off the lie.I also lost all of the money, and my soul.
Having been in this situation before, I knew my husband would check that box of money periodically, but I had no idea if it would be every day or every week, month, or quarter. In desperation I texted my mom and told her everything.
She quickly Zelled me the $1800 I had squandered at the casino. I wish that were the end of this story, but it’s not. Somhow I discovered some stupid Bingo App in the interim, and lost $800 over a week or so on that. So I replaced my husband’s cash with my mother’s cash, but have $800 in credit card charges that I have no way to pay. Most of it was on my personal account, which my husband won’t see, but $100 of it is on an account he will see (which will cause him to suspect that I’ve relapsed and he’ll start looking into everything again—back to square one)?
I feel like a damaged piece of worthless junk, and certainly not worthy of my dear husband’s love, let alone forgiveness. This guilt is eating away at me, slowly but surely.
So why do we keep relapsing? I have my theories: In between that nauseating, hopeless, soul-killing, truly defeated feeling, there’s that thrill we feel when we are winning. The rush that comes with seeing the perfect combo on the slot machine, or the score of the game, or the “25X” symbol on the lottery scratch off–honestly, that rush is pure brain chemistry at its best; it’s no different than pushing a needle in our arm. That’s the feeling we are seeking when we choose to go back to gambling after long sober stretches; and chasing the loss is what keeps us in the viscous cycle.
When we have a strong support system and we keep our psyche busy we’re easily able to resist temptation; we’re cognitively aware that the lows of gambling FAR outweigh the highs, and we fall back on the supports we’ve previously put in place to center us back to reality.So when we have long stretches of freedom followed by periods where we return to the belly of the beast (gambling), I believe it is because we let our support systems go by the wayside. Either we thought we were cured and didn’t feel we needed to stay active in our recover groups, or we had a long stretch of sobriety and slowly got disconnected from our support network to the point that when temptation hit were too embarrassed (or proud) to reach out for help.
The answer, then, now that I’m writing it out like this, is pretty simple: We need to constantly remind ourselves of the hell gambling has caused us. We need to keep our support networks active, and never become complacent in our recovery. Only a true gambler can understand the deep, dark misery of being out of control. So by the same token, only a true gambler can support another true gambler. How can we help each other, especially when that urge makes itself apparent after a long silence? If we can nip it at the bud, and snip the temptation off before the compulsion–and all of its inevitable ‘friends’ like regret, shame, desire for redemption/chasing the loss follow–we would be one step ahead of the game.
I am right there with you Steve, and I don’t want to ever succumb to this horrible addiction.Hey Murr,
I’ve been browsing these forums but have never posted yet. I just read your entire thread going back to November and wanted to thank you for sharing your journey with us. I have been struggling so much on this roller coaster of compulsive gambling and I really related to how you describe the damage to your mental health when you were in the throes of it. That’s where I am right now, and it’s KILLING me. I feel worthless, useless, damaged. I hate that I am weak this way and wish I was someone else. On the other hand I realize that kind of thinking will get me nowhere, and I need to accept that I have a compulsive nature, I was born this way but it can be managed. And also that it doesn’t make me a horrible person, just flawed, as I suppose everyone is in some way or another.
Anyway I hope you are doing well and that you can give an update on your journey, even if you’ve had some setbacks. Thanks again for sharing!
Brilian–terima kasih telah berbagi ini!
Fantastico: grazie per averlo condiviso!
Lieliski-paldies, ka dalījāties ar šo!
Znakomicie – dziękuję za udostępnienie tego!
Брилянтно-благодаря, че споделихте това!
Великолепно – спасибо, что поделились этим!
Brilhante – obrigado por compartilhar isso!
Brilliant–thank you for sharing this!
Brilliant–thank you for sharing this!
Briljant – bedankt om dit te delen!
Cintai TF ini … Kami bersama-sama dan akan mengalahkan ini bersama!
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Amo esse TF … Estamos nisso juntos e vamos vencer juntos!