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!