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.
I was five months pregnant with our second daughter in August 2014 when I received a call from my husband that would forever change my life. He told me he had won $20,000 at a casino — $10,000 in cash and $10,000 in a check. I figured we’d use the money towards paying off debt and giving generously to our church.
I was surprised by this news because I wasn’t aware that he was going to the casino. When I asked him about it, he told me he’d been going for a few months. All the while he seemed tired, but I knew that something was not right with him. I later learned that he’d been gambling a lot longer than a few months when I noticed gambling activity started to show up in our credit union accounts. I also discovered that he was using money he’d put away for our daughter and started dipping into his bill money. When I confronted him about it all, he always told me he could stop whenever he wanted.
He continued to gamble after our daughter was born. He eventually made a bad personal decision and lost the job he’d held for eight years in May 2015. I was working part-time and he was the primary breadwinner. Without his $45,000 income, we were in trouble. He continued a downward spiral into depression, anxiety, cross addiction with drinking, scratch off lottery tickets, candy crush and deeper into gambling.
The stress created by my husband’s addiction took a toll on me. My blood pressure spiked and I developed alopecia in the front of my hairline. That was a wakeup call!
By August, I sought help and learned about Gamblers Anonymous (GA) for my husband and Gam-Anon for myself. He went to GA once and refused to go again. But for me, going to Gam-Anon turned out to be the next big thing that would change my life.
On numerous occasions my husband admitted to me that he had a problem, but refused to seek treatment. After being separated for a few years I filed for divorce, which was finalized in June 2019 so I could chart my own path. I am now the primary breadwinner and speak at the annual GA/Gam-Anon conference. I have focused on my career as well as learning about addiction and recovery and how to better support people that come after me, because there will always be more addicts and families affected by addiction.
I was asked what advice I might give to other spouses and families who are going through the same thing that I went through. I would tell them that addiction is a time sucker, a hell of a roller coaster ride and that even in the midst of the storm they need to realize the importance of self-care — choosing joy and finding their own purpose.
It’s easy to become so co-dependent on the addict that you stop living your life. There are things spouses and family members can do to protect themselves if the problem gambler isn’t willing to get help. Some of these things include:
Knowledge is power — learn as much as you can about addiction and how it’s an actual mental illness.
Control your financial assets and don’t allow the gambler’s behavior to damage your credit or your mortgage.
Don’t enable and bail out the gambler by helping with gambling-related debts.
Get the support you need from people who understand your situation, such as what Gam-Anon offers.
These were hard lessons to learn. It’s unfortunate that I had to go through this but if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have a story to tell and be able to influence others. The ability to speak at an annual conference, for example, is a door that never would have been opened if I didn’t have a spouse that’s an addict.
One day, my ex-husband will realize what he has thrown away and will choose recovery for himself. For me, I am excited for new beginnings. To create new traditions and memories for my daughters. I’m in control of my future and looking forward to writing the next chapter.
The state of Minnesota offers 12 sessions of family therapy (per year) through the state problem gambling program when visiting an approved provider. An approved provider list can be found here.
