Aug 13, 2021 | RECOVERY, STORIES
The first time I started to think I might have a gambling addiction was when it was suggested to me by my manager at work. She saw that I enjoyed talking to coworkers about my gambling — even laughing off my appreciable losses. Until then, I didn’t give it all that much thought.
I was taken a little off guard by my manager’s comment, in which she actually asked me to watch how much I talked about gambling in the workplace because coworkers might think I had an addiction. But the message hit home for me — she was telling me I should consider that I had an addiction.
At my very next therapy appointment after that conversation I used my therapist’s phone to call the gambling helpline. I knew it was time.
Although I was decisive in seeking help once my manager talked to me — and I took the initial homework assignments very seriously — I still had relapses in the first several years while going to Gambler’s Anonymous (GA). And while I know that others might not return to GA after relapsing, I was struck by the welcoming, nonjudgmental outlook they shared, and so I never missed a meeting.
Two things motivated me to become more steadfast in my recovery. When visiting my father for six weeks before he died of cancer, I had to drive right past the casino. But despite the stress of my father’s health and his proximity to the casino, I never gambled.
The second motivator was the lingering feeling I had the last time I gambled. I distinctly remember how I wanted to drive my care into a wall to kill myself. I didn’t wish to revisit that awful feeling, and I also knew that my father would not want me to do that.
Over the years, I’ve learned about the various situations with other problem gamblers. Our stories always have similarities and differences. Unlike a lot of others, I never lied, cheated or stole. I was always honest with people and confessed when I had relapses. I’m also lucky because I never dipped into retirement savings, though I can only wonder how much more I’d have saved had I not spent so much money gambling.
With the work I’ve done to overcome my gambling addiction along with various other addictions, I’m very familiar with many of the processes, including the 12 steps. In my work in the social services industry, I’m able to provide insights to people when I share my own story.
I encourage others to replace gambling with another activity. And if drinking is also an addiction for them, I tell them to replace alcohol with another beverage of choice that they always have on hand. I also encourage people to reward themselves with jewelry or something else as they reach clean milestones to keep them going.
In August, I will have ten years clean from gambling. I live what some might call a boring 12-step life, but I’ve never been happier and more optimistic about my future.
Oct 21, 2020 | PROBLEM GAMBLING, RECOVERY, STORIES, YOUTH GAMBLING
I had my first big win of $500 as a 7-year old at a church picnic in a small town in Minnesota. I was like a celebrity for a while after that. I chased that feeling for 34 years, becoming very competitive in sports, games, spelling bees and just about everything else.
I figured out I had a gambling problem in 1994 and went to a few meetings but didn’t take anything away from them at that time. That same year I went through outpatient treatment to help control my gambling. But I did not want to stop; I wanted to get back to the winning streaks I thought I had.
Over the next two years I had periods where I abstained from gambling to prove to myself and others that I had it under control. But I didn’t. In 1997, I stole $250 from my employer to cover gambling losses. By the middle of 1998, I was taking much larger sums, with the last theft being for $25,000. With each theft, I convinced myself it would be the last time I’d do it.
Every time our company had an audit, I would pray and pray that they wouldn’t pick one of the stolen checks I had cashed. I felt really bad about what I did, and the pressure to hide my gambling problem increased. I even worked on plans to have someone kill me, put me in the trunk of a car and abandon the car. I thought it would be better for my parents and others to see me murdered than to learn about my gambling problem and the illegal activities I had committed.
I white knuckled it and floundered around for a while, staying gambling free but still trying to “find recovery” on my own.
I was eventually caught, and was fired from my job on December 6, 1998 – yet that was not my bottom. I worked out a repayment agreement with my employer, but I reneged on it when I couldn’t make the payments because of my continued gambling. In February of 2000, I was charged with 24 federal felony counts of theft by swindle for the money I stole from my employer, a securities firm and a banking institution. I plead guilty to much lesser charges, served my time and am still making restitution payments.
My last day of gambling was two days before I entered inpatient treatment on September 20, 2000. I white knuckled it and floundered around for a while, staying gambling-free but still trying to “find recovery” on my own. I believed that I was not worthy of God’s or any other higher power’s help or caring.
On November 7, 2001, I was involved in serious accident that changed my outlook on recovery and life in just a few seconds. My SUV was demolished after rolling over three and a half times. I was pulled from the wreckage by a good Samaritan. I walked away from the accident with very minor injuries because I heard from within the car that I needed to lay down. There was no one else in the car with me, but I listened to that voice and laid down on the front seat, seat belt still intact. The roof of the car was crushed down to the steering wheel. Had I not laid down, I would have most likely been killed or paralyzed.
I knew then that I did have faith in God. If I didn’t or had hesitated about lying down, I may not have survived. I began to live a different life the next day, one where I am involved in GA, the conference and the fellowship that GA has to offer. I am alive today because of the choices I have made in recovery. Some choices have been made without hesitation while other choices have taken longer – like asking for help during sad times.
I have a few friends from before recovery who tried to help, but I wasn’t ready to accept help. They still stood by me in courtrooms and then a treatment center, having accepted my addiction without necessarily understanding its affect on me. The hundreds of friends I have met through recovery do understand the effects my addiction has on me. I have been willing to accept their help and they in turn are willing to help me.
What a different life I am experiencing thanks to my higher power, my friends and my choices.
Aug 17, 2020 | ADVOCACY, RECOVERY
Jess Stewart’s desire to become an advocate for problem gamblers was born while he was at Project Turnabout for residential gambling treatment in 2016. Four years later, he’s proven to be a highly motivated, steadfast voice for those afflicted with gambling disorder.
After graduating from Project Turnabout, Jess returned to his native Ohio (Jess was unable to find residential treatment in Ohio). He immediately sought out organizations involved with problem gambling to determine how he might contribute as an advocate.
Jess soon forged a connection with the Problem Gambling Network of Ohio (PGNO), signaling the start of a great new journey. He subsequently attended national conferences and recovery meetings, became a PGNO board member, participated in a symposium for Recovery Resources in Cleveland, and led a session at the 2020 Ohio Problem Gambling Conference. “Everything sort of snowballed in a good way for me as if it were meant to be,” says Jess.
Jess found that he had unique value to add because of his lived experience. “I can tell a very real story to influence legislators about gambling issues. When someone shares their story in person, they have to hear it, and it changes the way they think about it. I also remind them to think about the legacy they want to leave.”
Jess has reached out to legislators by email, letter and phone calls, written op-eds for newspapers and done television interviews. He’s also passionate about the language of “addiction.” “I think the term ‘addict’ creates a stigma that keeps people from coming out to the forefront and getting help.”
Jess has contributed in other ways. For example, he’s supported the use of “warm transfers” on the Ohio state helpline, giving individuals calling in the opportunity to speak with and be assessed by a certified gambling counselor. He’s also encouraging the state to add an advocate line, which would allow a caller to talk to a peer that’s experienced challenges with gambling, rather than a counselor that they might view as less relatable.
“You have to have compassion and understanding when talking to another person and treat them as you’d want to be treated,” he says. “That conversation just might save a life. That was the case for me after my initial call with Project Turnabout — I heard the voice of hope and understanding.”
Where does Jess’s passion come from and what motivates him to be so energetic about the cause? “I believe if you’re aware of what you can do that you have a moral obligation to speak out and help others. I wasn’t willing to be silent because I’ve read and heard so many sad stories. I respect others who decide not to share their story or to be in the forefront, but for me that just isn’t an option.”
Aug 17, 2020 | RECOVERY, STORIES, YOUTH GAMBLING
My nearly 50-year relationship with gambling started when I was six years old. My father, an illegal sports bettor, introduced me to gambling and would take me to sporting events everywhere he placed bets. I remember that he would split his winnings with me on baseball bets because I knew the sport better than him.
This continued until about age 17 when my mother — and best friend — died suddenly. The trauma from that started a period of depression that changed my relationship with my father.
The situation with my father caused me to move out of the house at a time when I really wasn’t prepared for life. I worked six days a week and went to school five days a week. To break up the monotony, I went to the local dog track. It was a great stress reliever and provided some excitement from the pain of my day-to-day life.
That started an off-and-on cycle of gambling that would last until four years ago. I went from dog racing to horse racing to the lottery (casinos wouldn’t come until the mid 90s). I took my first trip to Las Vegas around that time and that changed everything for me.
My gambling became more aggressive and I started spending money from paychecks that should have gone to bills. I started borrowing on credit cards, maxed them out, and then stole from my employer to gamble. That led to charges, and I eventually ended up spending three years in prison.
You might think that spending three years in incarceration would have changed everything for me and that I’d value the opportunity to start anew. And I did — at least for several years. But about four years after my release from prison in December 2003, I went to Las Vegas again and binge gambled for an entire week. Things continued to spiral down from there.
By 2008, I knew I had a problem and sought help. That’s really when my recovery should have started.
Unfortunately, the agency where I sought help did not have a certified gambling counselor. And although I poured out my heart and soul, the counselor diagnosed me with depression. At the end of my intake session, I’ll never forget what she said: “You have to admit that you’ve brought all this upon yourself.” Needless to say, I didn’t feel I was provided with the support and help I needed and, despite my heartfelt intentions and desire to get help for my gambling addiction, I didn’t have success.
In 2012, I went on another Vegas binge, but this was worse. I came home feeling humiliated, frustrated and broken. I’d spent all this time on counseling and had nothing to show for it.
Finally, in 2016, after my worst binge of all, I’d had enough. I told my wife I needed to gain control of myself or I’d kill myself.
I looked online for inpatient treatment options and ultimately landed on Project Turnabout. I sensed an immediate understanding on their part. I knew they could give me my life back and rebuild me from the inside out. I learned so much.
Ultimately, my experience in residential gambling treatment motivated me not just to embark on my own recovery, but also to help others as much as I can and to take a leadership role. I have since become a strong advocate for problem gamblers by sharing my experience with as many people as possible.
I sometimes think about the experience I had in 2008, when the counselor I saw was ill equipped to help me and only added to the stigma that I had failed. Had that counselor better understood problem gambling, I believe I could have started my recovery eight years earlier. But I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that that experience helped me to become the advocate I am today.
Apr 25, 2020 | PROFESSIONALS, RECOVERY, STORIES
For me, gambling led to two lifechanging experiences.
The first changed me for the worse. The second connected me to a support network I’d never had before.
My first experience gambling was when my brother gave me $20 and took me to a casino. His intent was to teach me a lesson in how easy it is to throw money away gambling. Our birth father had a gambling addiction that devastated my brother’s childhood and he didn’t want the same thing to happen to me. (I was adopted at an early age and escaped those consequences.) But the problem with that lesson was that I actually turned that $20 into $60, and I guess I became unknowingly hooked.
The next time I gambled was several years later when I was out on a date after I’d been divorced and gone through having breast cancer. I just loved it. So much so that I went back the next day by myself. I enjoyed not having to answer to anyone. I’d been through a lot and figured I deserved to have fun.
I started going to the casinos more often. I’d make the 200-mile drive from Wichita to casinos in Kansas City and sometimes even further to play at larger casinos. It was a big investment of time and money, but I looked forward to it.
What started as recreation and something fun to do, became an obsession. I probably gambled for more than 20 years.
It got to the point where I lost a whole paycheck. That was the most irresponsible thing I’d ever done. I remember thinking, “What the hell?!” I endeavored that that would never happen again, but it did.
Things got scarier and scarier. I lied about where I was going and to friends about the reasons I needed money. At the same time, I felt pressure to provide for my girls. I convinced myself that I would try to win to pay everyone back and pay my bills. It got so bad, I started writing bad checks and stealing.
I couldn’t reconcile the person I had become with the person I thought I was. I didn’t understand then — because I didn’t know about gambling addiction — but now I realize I was in the throes of addiction.
I couldn’t keep up with rent and was continually evicted. I ended up living in my car, which I tried to hide. I then lost my job because I performed badly after being out all night gambling.
I decided I was going to kill myself. I went to the Emergency Room and explained that I felt suicidal. The staff wanted to admit me but I convinced them I’d be OK and left.
A short time later, I found myself back in the hospital parking lot, ready to go back in, but I fell asleep in my car. That’s when the first of several extraordinary moments happened. A security guard knocked on the window, waking me up. She walked me into the hospital, where I was admitted to the Behavior Health unit and for a week had three meals a day and a roof over my head.
The next extraordinary moment occurred when the social worker at the hospital, who knew about gambling addiction, recommended a residential gambling treatment center in Minnesota (Vanguard Center for Gambling Recovery at Project Turnabout) where I could go at no cost. She made the arrangements and, not trusting I wouldn’t try to go back to gambling after treatment, made me think about planning my life after I finished treatment.
I finally told my daughters about everything and they were very supportive. I felt this, too, was extraordinary.
I expected to return to Wichita but Sheryl Anderson, program coordinator at Vanguard, convinced me that I’d be better off starting a new life of sober living in Minneapolis, where I could live with other recovering addicts and learn how to build a life without gambling. Another extraordinary moment in the series was having John Rundquist as my counselor after I left Vanguard. He has made such a difference for me.
Perhaps the crowning extraordinary moment was getting involved in Gamblers Anonymous (GA). Through GA, I have met such wonderful people that have supported me in my recovery and in so many other ways. It is such a gift to be honest, to be accepted and to be understood.
Apr 24, 2020 | HELP, PROBLEM GAMBLING, PROFESSIONALS, RECOVERY
The COVID-19 pandemic has affected virtually all aspects of life. Gambling counseling is no exception.
Given the drastic reduction in social contact, we asked several gambling counselors about the state of gambling therapy and the changes they’ve observed.
Lisa Vig, Gamblers Choice
More of our clients are keeping appointments than we anticipated. It tells me that staying connected to recovery support is very important at this time. They have also been initiating and requesting additional individual support as well.
We use a variety of platforms, including Teams, Zoom and the phone. One accommodation we’ve had to make using these platforms is reducing the size of groups. It’s more difficult to manage attention spans, allowances for everyone to talk and receive the attention they need with eight or nine in one group. We’ve adapted by offering shorter groups, more often, with fewer attendees.
As a counselor, I find that takes a different level of energy to conduct telehealth counseling. When you’re not in the same room sharing the same space, you have to pay more attention to their voice, inflections, participation and engagement since the ability to watch body language or other expressions is compromised. The clients we have worked with have expressed gratitude at every opportunity to stay connected.
I think telehealth counseling has a very valuable place, especially in this part of the country where we are dealing with rural living and limited availability of counselors. At least 50 percent of our clients would benefit from the option of telecounseling. Being able to utilize a combination of in person and telecounseling to customize delivery of treatment services would be ideal.
Craig Johnson, Club Recovery
Once all of my clients became used to the change and requirements of the stay-at-home orders, my group attendance has been good. Most clients are participating and “showing” up for group.
Except for rare occasions, we are completely virtual. We use phone or a Telehealth platform to conduct interactions with all clients at every level of service we provide.
While counseling is not a “one size fits all” process, I think that at some level and some circumstances all clients can benefit from using a Telehealth platform. We need to adapt and move forward with as many innovations in reaching out to clients that we can. Since the beginning of the COVID-19 crisis, the treatment community has been advocating vigorously for the use of Telehealth platforms and CMS and DHS recently approved that all services we provide can be done with Telehealth. Telehealth is a capability that we must keep as an option to use when a client may not be able to access services via traditional means.
There is a great need for gambling disorder providers outside of the Twin Cities, Duluth and near Fargo. Without Telehealth, potential clients in those areas would not be able to get services. As a community of providers we must promote this capability wherever and whenever possible to reach all those who need help. This will be the main topic of discussion at the next meeting of the DHS Advisory Committee on Gambling Disorder on May 14.
Paul Mladnick, Solo Practice/Bridges & Pathways
I don’t think Telehealth counseling is ideal but I don’t think that much is lost. About half of my clients prefer to cancel appointments until we have the all clear. I’d say about 30 percent are coming to my office while about 20 percent are receiving counseling over the phone.
From a practical perspective, I am keeping my office sanitized prior to each session and I do practice social distancing in my office. I have noticed that the number of referrals is down since March 17, so I have considerable availability for those with a gambling problem or those concerned for family and friends.