Jun 18, 2025 | PROBLEM GAMBLING, RECOVERY, STORIES
I was seven the first time I gambled. We were visiting my grandmother, and the older ladies in her building taught me how to play rummy—for nickels. We played for six hours, and by the end of the night, I’d taken all their money. I remember asking my parents the next day when I could gamble with them again.
There was a lot happening at home around that time. My sister’s teenage pregnancy caused constant tension and uncertainty. Playing cards with my grandmother gave me a break from the chaos.
When I turned 18, I went to the local casino with friends and my dad. I blew through my paycheck in minutes. My dad handed me $50 for my birthday so I could keep playing. I ended up winning some money back. That was cool.
Later, after dropping out of college because I felt homesick and unsure of what I wanted, I became a blackjack dealer. I discovered a benefit for employees—you could cash your paycheck for free at the casino. On payday, I’d often stick around until I either lost everything or doubled my money.
Poker was growing in popularity then, and I got good at it. I played tournaments around the Midwest and would often stay and play more poker or blackjack afterward.
Not long after, I began experiencing serious depression. Doctors gave me different diagnoses, and I was eventually labeled bipolar. I went through intensive rehab for depression.
I got married and moved to Minneapolis, but we didn’t stay long. We returned to rural life, and I got another job at a casino. About a year into the marriage, my husband relapsed after drug treatment. I flushed his drugs down the toilet, and he tried to choke me. A coworker helped me pack up and leave.
I kept working at the casino, but my mental health didn’t improve. Looking back, I can see how gambling highs lifted me way up, and losses sank me just as hard. I attempted suicide multiple times.
After years in and out of treatment, I finally stopped going to casinos. I met my current husband and went several years without the compulsion to gamble. I could even go to a casino with friends or my husband and be responsible.
A year into our marriage, I had my first daughter. I struggled with postpartum depression and soon realized that being a stay-at-home mom wasn’t for me—I needed more social interaction. I started going to the casino in the evenings, just to get out of the house.
Eventually, I took a job as a program coordinator for a home health company. I was working 60 to 70 hours a week, often leaving before my daughter woke up and coming home after she was asleep.
A year later, I got pregnant again. My son was born with a heart condition and passed away a week after birth. That sent me into a tailspin. I didn’t want to go back to work. I went on extended medical leave and returned to therapy.
After my sessions, I’d often go to the casino. That’s when my husband first voiced concern. He asked me to talk to my therapist about it—but I didn’t.
I got another job and became pregnant again. Despite everything, I still found reasons to go to the casino. I opened a separate bank account so my husband couldn’t see how much I was spending—or losing. He started to worry about our finances.
About three years ago, I lied to my husband so I could spend the day gambling. I stayed at the casino for 14 hours, lost everything in our accounts and maxed out all of our credit cards, including the ones he didn’t know about. That night, I realized this was more than depression. I remembered hearing the term “compulsive gambling” when I worked at casinos but had never imagined it applied to me. I even called the 800 number posted on the casino door—but hung up when someone finally answered.
A few weeks later, my husband found a W-2G form showing gambling winnings I hadn’t told him about. He started asking more questions about our finances. I still didn’t tell him I had drained our 401(k) or spent $29,000 worth of insurance checks we got for roof repairs as gambling money. I thought I could double it. I didn’t.
I kept losing. Then one night, before heading out, I wrote my husband a letter telling him everything. I left it on the counter with our credit cards and checking info. I told him I’d understand if he didn’t want to try anymore.
He read the letter after putting our kids to bed. He called me and told me to come home so we could talk. It was the longest night of my life. I felt like the worst person in the world.
That Sunday, I went to my first GA meeting. We researched treatment options and found the Vanguard Center for Gambling Recovery 30 miles away. I called them the next day and signed up.
I completed a 30-day inpatient program. It was the hardest and best thing I’ve ever done—especially being away from my kids with only limited contact.
Since then, I haven’t gambled. I attend two to three GA meetings a week and stay connected with others in recovery. I even went to the first international GA conference since COVID. I’ve found peace among people who understand what I’ve been through.
Now, life is boring—and that’s a good thing. Boring means peace, stability, and being present for my family.
Mar 4, 2025 | PROBLEM GAMBLING, RECOVERY, STORIES
As I look back on the last several years, I can see times when my husband’s behavior was odd, when things didn’t seem quite right. At the time, however, I thought it was just him having a love for sports and it was his hobby.
But after I received a call from a detective in 2023 telling me about things that my husband had done, my world was turned upside down.
I have been with my husband for 14 years. I knew that he was into sports gambling since his college days but hadn’t thought much about it.
Three years ago, he had a significant win with one of the sports gambling accounts. I said, “Great! Let’s take this win and move on so it doesn’t become a problem” From that point on, I always tried to have conversations about the list of things we could do and which ones to prioritize. But he didn’t want to make concrete plans, always saying something like, “Yea, yea … we can talk about it later.”
About a year later, a friend of mine said she wanted to talk with me. She informed me that my husband had another big win, which he hadn’t told me about. My husband’s family also informed me that he’d borrowed money from them. This was the start of when things started to fall apart.
Trips to the mailbox became traumatic as late bill notices became common. Our power was shut off from not paying the electric bill. My husband’s mother started getting calls from debt collectors. I didn’t understand all of this, as I assumed we had all this money going back to his big win.
Several months after that, I received the call from the detective that changed my life. He told me my husband had committed some illegal acts over the last year. I was shocked. I could’ve never imagined my husband going to such extreme lengths such as stealing private information to obtain money.
The next half year was filled with uncertainty. While we waited to see what legal charges might be coming and the implications, my husband kept getting new jobs — and kept getting fired. Somehow, people kept finding out and news would spread to his new employers. We were in survival mode, not knowing what our future looked like.
During this time, my husband started going to Gamblers Anonymous meetings while I started attending Gam-Anon. Gam-Anon became my rock through all of the uncertainty. It’s taught me that you have to take one day at a time and that you can only control what you can control.
Charges finally came. My husband was convicted of six felony charges, including identify theft and business theft. He was sentenced to nine months in jail and five years’ probation. He ended up being eligible for electronic monitoring instead of jail time, still our lives have been forever changed.
Almost as bad as the charges were how we were treated at the hearings. My biggest fear was that everyone in our small community would find out. Many showed up at the hearings, and I remember how upsetting it was when someone laughed out loud when “gambling addiction” was mentioned.
The emotional impact of this has been immense. I was devastated and kept it to myself for almost five months, only telling a few people I could trust. I remember crying in the bathroom between the classes that I taught. It breaks my heart that my husband will never be able to practice in his field again.
While my trust in him has been very slow to come back, I’m optimistic about the future. I’m able to handle things better. I set boundaries, control finances and always know where my husband is.
For those reading this who have been affected by someone with a gambling problem, I would say this: When you’re in the thick of it and scared, know that things will eventually get better, and take advantage of the resources that are available, the best being sharing your story and hearing others stories. There is hope.
Nov 12, 2024 | PROBLEM GAMBLING, STORIES
When I look back on the ups and downs of my struggle with compulsive gambling, I sometimes think back to the first time I was bailed out of my debt. When my parents learned about my gambling problem, they asked how much I owed. They subsequently paid off my debts, and while that solved the immediate anxiety I had about money, it did nothing to help me with a gambling problem that I would struggle with for the next 20 years.
There was no history of gambling in my family. While I remember cake walks as a kid, when you might win something, and the times my grandmother would let me deposit a ticket for a raffle, that wasn’t anything serious. I also remember my father placing minimal bets on horses at Ascot, but I was just thrilled to be there and couldn’t have cared less about betting.
My compulsive gambling started after I went with my friends to casinos around 1990. This was when gambling became more available as casinos opened on reservations. It was probably about three years later — when I’d taken time off for surgery, didn’t want to be home for any work calls and started going to casinos for an escape —that I started to gamble compulsively, though I didn’t recognize it as that at the time.
At first, at the casinos, I generally played cards but at some point I moved to playing the machines. They were faster paced and I found them more exciting. Eventually, I started going to the casinos more often, usually alone, and would gamble more each time.
This was also at a time when it was easy to get credit cards and I quickly racked up a lot of debt taking cash advances on credit cards. Eventually, it became difficult to pay my bills. Shortly thereafter, I became depressed and started to have suicidal thoughts. As I drove around the Twin Cities, I’d look at a bridge abutment and think that I could drive into it and that nobody would ever know about my gambling behavior. But I figured if I didn’t kill myself, things would just be worse.
The suicidal thoughts spurred me to seek help. I met with a behavior health professional, who suggested I attend a Gamblers Anonymous (GA) meeting. At the time, I had no idea there was such a thing as a compulsive gambler. I remember breaking down and crying at my first GA meeting appreciating how sympathetic and empathetic everyone was. They encouraged me to keep coming to meetings.
It was at this time when my parents learned of my gambling problem — and gave me money to settle outstanding debts. Yet even with the bailout, my getting professional help and attending GA meetings on and off, I continued to gamble — and continued to rack up more and more debt.
By 2007, my employer became wise to my manipulation of expense reports so that I could pay off my increasing debt. It was embarrassing to confess what I’d done, particularly given that I was an expert at my job and had a reputation for being responsible and never doing anything wrong. I ultimately quit my job in lieu of being fired. A friend drove me to Vanguard Center for Gambling Recovery two days later. I went back to GA for a year and participated in monthly meetings at Vanguard. I stayed away from gambling for a year.
But by the next year, I was back to gambling and not going to GA meetings. Over the next few years, things worsened. I kited funds until the banks caught up with me. Creditors came after me and, along with the IRS and the state of Minnesota, garnished my wages. My townhouse was foreclosed in 2012, and I began dipping into my 401K to make ends meet.
By 2015, I’d lost track of who I owed what, and I wrote a bad check at a casino. Rather than being prosecuted I was ordered to attend a budgeting class. I remember really wanting to tell the judge that I didn’t have a budgeting problem, but a gambling problem!
Aug 7, 2024 | RECOVERY, STORIES
My gambling addiction has driven me to do things I never thought I’d do: write bad checks, max out credit cards and make up stories about why I needed to borrow money from my family. But most upsetting to me was that my addiction caused me to steal from my parents’ retirement accounts.
That’s really the point at which I knew I needed to get help.
It wasn’t always that way. The first time I gambled was when I went to a casino when I was 18. I’d go a few times a year with friends and family. It was a fun thing that we did together and I never had an issue.
Then, when I was in my late 20s, I started going to the casinos by myself as a way of dealing with my feeling embarrassed about being without a significant other when all my siblings were getting married and having kids. It allowed me to tell everyone I had something to do so they wouldn’t feel sorry for me. They didn’t know I was alone.
I began going every weekend and not just to spend three or four hours. I’d sometimes spend the whole night. Then I started going during the week, and would often change clothes in the car on my way to work from the casino.
My money started to run out, and that’s when I began to max out my credit cards and write bad checks. I learned about ways to get money in which to gamble, including payday loans.
I knew I had to get away from gambling because I’d end up in jail for writing bad checks. I prayed that death would take me away and felt like I was such a loser.
I thought a change of scenery would help me so I moved to Montana to be with my sister. At first, I didn’t gamble, partly because I didn’t have a job. Then I started working and making money and began to venture out from my sister. I learned that bars, restaurants and gas stations had casinos, including Keno, which I had never played before. I started doing that more and more on my way home from work.
I decided to end my time in Montana, partly concerned that my sister would learn what I was doing with my time and money because it was a small town. I called my old boss in back in Minnesota and lucked into a job.
But I wasn’t back in Minnesota for more than a week before I was back at the casinos. I had worked to clean up my debts but now I was going right back into it.
About six months later, I did what I could never have imagined doing. I waited for my parents to leave the driveway as they were heading out of town. I went into my mother’s bedroom and opened up the checkbook for their investment account. I wrote a check out to myself. My handwriting was very similar to my mother’s.
May 22, 2024 | RECOVERY, STORIES
My name is Austin Strom, and I am a gambling addict. I am 24, and for the last seven years, gambling has been my life.
Gambling runs in my family. My parents and grandparents, who had their own gambling battles, would often gamble. I have numerous memories of them arranging a baby sitter to watch me when they would go out gambling.
So not surprisingly, when I had an assignment called “If I had 100 dollars!” in kindergarten or first grade, my response was “I would go to the casino!”
In high school, I would occasionally partake in friendly sports wagers involving my team against my friends’ teams. I would also play Blackjack with friends without betting money, but the objective never changed: win the game.
The day I turned 18 was long anticipated. I went to the casino with my parents and grandmother that day. I didn’t have the best luck, but since it was my birthday and my parents didn’t want me to lose on my birthday, they kept adding money in hopes of turning the tide. I don’t remember how that day played out, but I do remember spending about 12 hours at the casino, losing all I had with me. For the next month, I went to the casino multiple times, including a two-night stay by myself at the hotel. Other than a few hours of sleeping, the rest of the time was spent at the Blackjack tables. I remember one day all I had to eat was a piece of pizza because to me eating was time away from the table.
I was then introduced to websites such as DraftKings and Bovada, where I could partake in daily fantasy sports. Before switching to actual sports betting, I lost several thousand dollars on fantasy sports. I would spend the next two years betting on sports weekly, if not daily. I would wait until the day I got paid, just to eventually drain my account and wait two weeks for the next paycheck. By this time, all of my gambling, which also included blackjack, was done online and I rarely went back to a casino.
Once Covid hit and the accompanying shutdowns, I had no shortage of free time. By this time, my minimum bet was already at least ten times more than when I started. When I ran out of money, I learned about online personal loans. I took out a $1,500 loan and planned to make enough money to pay it off before my next paycheck. But that didn’t work out and I borrowed more and more, eventually owing up to $30,000 over a three-week period.
By this time, I was determined to keep the addiction to myself so that nobody would try to encourage me to stop. This pressure, combined with anxiety and depression I had struggled with for much of my life, brought me to consider suicide. This led to one of a few trips to the emergency room for personal safety.
At this time, I was ready to get the help that those around me had suggested, or so I thought. I enrolled in Gamblers Choice, essentially a 12-step program for gamblers. But my addiction continued, even while it was harder to hide. I came to realize that the program wasn’t something I wanted to do or what I was ready for at the time.
I continued to gamble, but eventually went to inpatient treatment at Project Turnabout in Granite Falls. I met great people who understood what I was going through. It also showed me that this addiction doesn’t care where you come from or what you do. My mindset improved but I left after three weeks, rather than stay for the full 30 days I was supposed to do. I re-enrolled in Gamblers Choice but would continue to gamble until Oct. 9, the day I placed my last wager. At this point, I had lost everything I could possibly lose, including my best friend. I was left with two choices — end it all or give it 60 days without gambling and see if living without gambling was something I could do.
I was assigned a “Goodbye Gambling” letter in my Gamblers Choice group, and I believe that really got me to a new place. Since then, I’ve really looked at everything after that as a new life. I’ve had to and am still currently rewiring my brain’s definition of fun. Sure, the highs aren’t as high as they were when I was gambling, and they may never be that way. However, that also means the lows aren’t as low as they were while I was gambling, and that’s a trade I will take every day of the week. My entire outlook on life has changed since I’ve quit gambling. I’ve got a new hope towards life and what’s to come that excites me. I’m definitely a different person than I was even just several months ago. My gratitude for everything life has to offer has grown substantially, and none of that would have happened had I still been gambling. That’s why it’s important that I just don’t gamble today.
If you or somebody you know is struggling with a gambling addiction, please reach out for help. Do it for yourself. So often we see this message and just let it slide by without giving it any thought.
As dark as it may seem, I promise there is light at the end of the tunnel. Let the journey of recovery be that light for you, like it was mine and so many others. I leave you with this: “Sometimes when you’re in a dark place it feels like you’ve been buried alive. But perhaps, you’ve just been planted and now is your time to bloom.”
It is with great sadness MNAPG learned that Austin was fatally shot on August 17, 2024. Austin was actively embracing his recovery at the time of his death. We continue to publish his story as a lasting inspiration.
May 22, 2024 | PROBLEM GAMBLING, STORIES
Note: The following article was written by Bill Stein, MNAPG staff writer, for this year’s Problem Gambling Awareness Month theme: Every Story Counts.
Each March, the National Council on Problem Gambling recognizes Problem Gambling Awareness Month (PGAM). It’s an opportunity to raise awareness about problem gambling and promote prevention, treatment and recovery services. This year’s PGAM theme is “Every Story Matters.”
As one who’s chronicled the gambling struggles — and recoveries — of nearly 50 Minnesotans over the last 15 years, I believe in the power of stories to bring the reality of this addiction to light and to demonstrate how treatment can change lives.
There are an estimated 250,000 problem gamblers in Minnesota. And for every problem gambler, countless other people in their orbit are affected, including family members, friends and coworkers.
But numbers are one thing. The real impact that gambling disorder has on the lives of our neighbors, our parents, our siblings and our friends is quite another.
The stories of the people impacted by gambling addiction paint a more complete, human picture of the destruction this addiction can bring as well as the triumphs of those who have faced their demons and are living full, productive, satisfying lives.
Gambling addiction is an equal opportunity disorder. Virtually anyone – men or women, young or old, and those from every religion, race and socio-economic background – is at risk for developing a gambling problem.
The stories of Minnesotans I’ve documented have reflected this tapestry. Consider these:
• A member of the Navy, who was among the boots on the ground in the Middle East, was faced with the challenge of coming home and trying to match the excitement and high-tempo routine he had become accustomed. The closest adrenaline rush he could find was gambling. He eventually developed an addiction and accompanying depression before he found the help he needed.
• “Tim” became a kind of celebrity in his town after he won $500 in a church picnic at age of seven. He chased that high of winning for 34 years. Then he entered inpatient treatment for his gambling and has since turned his life around.
• “Jean” was the gambling addict you’d never suspect. She wasn’t a video gamer, didn’t like football pools and didn’t play the stock market. She didn’t even start gambling until she was almost 50. It took being fired from her job (from stealing money to support a gambling habit) and serving a lengthy prison sentence until she confronted her addiction and began her recovery.
• “Cecelia” was five months pregnant when she learned about her husband’s gambling activity. It ultimately became such a problem that he lost his job, the couple’s only source of income. She sought help from Gam-Anon, which helps those whose lives are negatively impacted by a problem gambler. She educated herself about her husband’s gambling addiction and ultimately left the roller coaster life her husband’s gambling had caused. She is now thriving, and working to support others who have been through what she has.
• “Dick” was a self-professed straight arrow, a regular church-goer and a good family man with a well-paying job in management. But once pressures drove him to make frequent visits to the casino, things changed significantly. Dick ended up with large credit card debts and owing the government thousands of dollars in taxes.
• “Lori” rarely gambled until work stresses and unresolved childhood trauma drove her to gamble as often as she could. In time, she put gambling ahead of her home, her husband, her kids and even food for herself. Depressed and suicidal, she’d planned to end her life until an eagle swooped over her car as she took her son to visit his grandmother. She saw the eagle as a sign of hope, went online to find help and learned of the successful recoveries that others had had. She subsequently started the 30-day inpatient gambling program at Project Turnabout in Granite Falls and turned her life around.
While each of these stories is unique, they often have a lot in common. I’ve found that many of the recovering gamblers we highlight have these characteristics:
• A big win early in their life that creates a high they “chase” for years.
• Their gambling often occurs with other mental health conditions. For example, a gambling addict may also experience substance or alcohol abuse.
• They are typically either: 1. An “escape gambler” who gambles to escape life’s problems, or 2. An “action gambler” who may appear egotistical, successful and outgoing, and often prefers to play games involving skill, such as poker or sports betting.
• Relapses are often stops along the way in their overall recovery process.
There many other similarities, such as lying about money and time spent gambling, stealing to acquire money and a preoccupation with gambling. Many of the gamblers I’ve profiled have also attempted suicide, sometimes several times.
What also comes through when sharing the stories of problem gamblers is the pain they feel for what their gambling has caused others. They regret the lies they’ve told, the gift money they’ve squandered, the retirement savings they’ve spent and the way they’ve prioritized gambling over family, friends, relationships and jobs.
These are good, well-meaning people. They often didn’t know there was such a thing as gambling addiction, and if they did, they weren’t sure how or where to get help. They struggled to find other people who understood them.
In the end, after speaking to so many people, I’ve come away with great admiration for those who have turned around their lives — and great hope that the many others currently suffering from this devastating disorder can eventually become success stories of their own.
