My Addiction Is Just Fixation

Day-1. The next day I got up with the girls. I spent the morning with them trying to distract myself. I felt a sense of doom overshadowing me. I got myself and the kids ready and went to my sister’s place. I took two buses to get there and had no plans for what I was going to do after.

Sitting with my sister, I explained everything. I explained how I had lost all the rent money by gambling. I explained how it had been going on for over a year. How I was scared to tell anyone, I asked her to tell my dad, because I couldn’t. The thought of telling more people seemed to push me into a bad place mentally. I then asked my dad to tell my kids’ dad because I was too scared to tell him. Actually, I was too afraid to tell anyone. That strong-willed power I had the night before that pushed me into that live video had up and left. I no longer felt strong. All I seemed to do was cry and hate myself; and my mind was thinking of ways to escape everything, no matter what that way was: running away and hiding from everyone, suicide, moving and pretending I wasn’t who I was. At that moment, there were so many ideas running through my head that sounded perfect for escaping everything that I knew was to come.

The day was spent with my kids and hers. I felt lost, not just in the world or in my life but also in myself. I felt like I no longer knew who I was, what I wanted or how to survive. I felt lonely. I saw in the next few weeks how people treated me differently. While they would have been there had it being a drink or drug addiction, they weren’t now because my addiction was gambling. Maybe if they heard my thoughts, they would have realised gambling addiction is just as bad? I realised pretty quickly that many people saw my addiction as ‘nothing’ and like it wasn’t going to kill me or cause me real pain. I had watched others and how they supported other people with drink and drug addictions. Then, there I was, alone and invisible; it was like they didn’t even realise I had an addiction. In their minds, it was nothing and I was overreacting. This made me think: was I? Was I just overreacting and not really an addict?

Maybe had I wrote down all the times in that year I considered killing myself to escape because of how weak I felt, they would realise gambling is a real addiction? Maybe if they walked in and actually found my trying to take my life, they would have woken up and realised: shit this is real! Or perhaps, they would have shrugged it off and said it was for attention. I remember that night, lying in bed thinking, why me? Why were there so many people around me who supported and backed those with other addictions but didn’t even seem to care about mine? To them, it was like gambling or a gambling addiction wouldn’t have a real effect on me. There is a picture at the back of this book, that picture is from 2017. Take a look, does that look like someone who wasn’t affected by a gambling addiction? By the end of 2016, I had destroyed my hair.

My trichotillomania was so bad I would look down to a lap full of hair. There were so many signs, and I guess the fact I didn’t see people meant no one noticed. That night, I hardly slept, how could I? It was the first full day I had not gambled. I spent most of the night crying silent tears in that bed at my sister’s place. Part of me was hoping I wouldn’t wake up in the morning. I was spiralling and fast, and there was nothing to help me. I felt like I had the wrong addiction. Everywhere I turned someone would say gambling wasn’t a real addiction; that it wasn’t a substance addiction and it wasn’t as bad.

I felt like I had the wrong addiction and should get a new one just so people would listen to me and realise I was feeling just as bad as those with other types of addictions. I spent the whole night thinking over and over everything. My mind was telling me it wasn’t the addiction; it was me. People didn’t care; people didn’t ask how I was, call me or reach out once they knew, because it was me. It had nothing to do with the addiction being the wrong one; it was more the fact that it was me. My mind wanted to find any way to kill or hurt me because I removed the blanket that was protecting me from all the shit I had hidden. I guess I was right: either people saw gambling addictions as nothing or didn’t care about me because in those 4 years, while strangers would congratulate me on getting past one week, a month, a year, people I had known for longer, who I thought were close to me and cared, seemed to just forget I had an addiction. They thought it was over and done with. However, it wasn’t, not in my mind, and it never truly will be.

I sat on that gambling addiction chat and cried to myself as I told them everything: how I still had those thoughts telling me that I would gamble as soon as the money hit my bank. These people were there and supportive. They told me that as soon as I got those thoughts I should distract my mind by doing exercise, moving, cleaning or something; this way, my mind can’t linger on the thoughts. More importantly, visit a doctor and seek help. I knew they were right; I knew that I had to put myself out there and ask for help for a change. I never realised how much of a foolish move that would be though.

Day-2. The next day I woke up, I was feeling even less hopeful, but there was more there. I felt unstable, I felt like my body was shaking but you couldn’t see it. I knew I had to go home and start facing reality. I got my kids and we went home. The house felt strange, everything felt weird. It was like my eyes were finally open. I saw everything. I saw how my life had spiralled out of control. How I had lost control of the house because of my addiction. I realised I was no longer a mum. Yes, I cooked for my kids, ensured they were fed and going to school, but I wasn’t a mother. I have always had memory problems. I can remember very few events from my childhood. I can remember very few events after I was eighteen. You can ask me about Christmas in 2018, and I can’t remember it. Hand me pictures, and it all comes back. Of course, I remember things, I can think back and remember my kids' births to some extent; I can remember certain birthdays and Christmas slightly. Not all of them though so, when I sat there and thought about 2016, it was just darkness.

Looking back at 2016 through Facebook and pictures, I feel lost. I can’t remember it; even with the photos as a trigger, there is nothing. It was like the entire time I was in a state of mental instability that blocked everything around me. I look at pictures of my kids from Easter; apparently, they did an egg hunt -something I can’t remember-, yet, I was there taking pictures.

I can look at pictures from 2014, and it triggers the memory, yet everything from 2016 is gone except some moments that I remember while gambling. Sitting that night with the kids in bed, I realised I was not a mother. I wasn’t a role model; I wasn’t a teacher. I was absent. I had neglected them in one of the worst ways possible. I didn’t give them the love, comfort, or stability they needed. Sure, when they fell down and cried, I cuddled them; sure, I told them I loved them. Yet how much of that was actually myself? I was that much of a mess I can’t remember birthdays, nothing. While I may have cuddled and told them I loved them, was there any emotion involved? I ask myself that even today; did they see someone in a trance, running a daily routine, or did they see love, affection and caring?

I decided I needed a way to fix my problem, escape it, and ensure I couldn’t gamble anymore. I am someone who, within a week would know her card details by heart -card number, start and expiration dates, the code on the back, everything! Knowing this information meant that, if I gave someone my card to take control myself, I would still be able to gamble. I would still be able to register on a site and put in my card details.

So, I cut it up. I called my bank and ordered a new one. I promised I wouldn’t memorise that card number. However, over time, I memorised it as I did my weekly food shop online and everything else.

Along with cutting up my card and getting a new one, I refused to keep it -at least for a short while-. I ensured that when I went to the shop, I took the right amount of cash. There were plenty of times when I just stood inside the shop looking at the scratch cards but, since I knew that once I got home, I would have to account for the money I spent, I didn’t buy one. That doesn’t mean it was easy. Every time I went to a shop that sold scratch cards, the urge was there. However, slowly, I got to the point where I could go in, get what I needed and leave without noticing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t every time though. Sometimes I would but other times I would stand there and have a conversation with myself: “It would just be one scratch card”. I could buy one and walk away.

I even went to the lengths of what others said: “I only got really bad because of online slots, not with scratch cards, so I will be fine.” I knew deep down I was wrong, I could still feel it, right at the back of my mind scratching away. The addiction begging to be let loose: “just one scratch card, that is all it would take”. I could hear it laughing, almost saying: “go on”. I knew if I bought one card, I would go right back. In the beginning, it was easier: as I said, I would go to the shop with a list of items to buy. I would go back with a receipt and change. While 99% of the time, it wasn’t checked it, it made me accountable. It made me fight against the urge to buy that scratch card.

I realised that, hiding from Facebook wouldn’t help; being offline wouldn’t help. As long as I was not putting myself in a position of having a bad mental state or reading anything that would trigger emotions, I should have been fine. I also didn’t want to hide, I didn’t want to just disappear, so I used my Facebook account back then, as a way to talk to people and to show people that gambling addictions are real and not as simple as we all think. I wanted to use my addiction as a way to educate and help others. Hiding from Facebook wouldn’t have done that, so I knew I could be online as long as I didn’t put myself in a position that pushed me to gamble: being on Facebook for a short time, not hours; updating posts, answering messages, etc. I didn’t want to hide these issues on Facebook. I didn’t want everyone thinking: “Oh! it was nothing. She has gone back to her perfect life”. My life wasn’t perfect and had never been; it had always been a disaster after another even if my mind didn’t want to accept that.

Day-3. I woke up sweating. I tried getting on with the day as best as possible, but I realised I couldn’t stop shaking. I was sweating, my heart was racing. I couldn’t concentrate, and my mental health plunged and quick. I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me. I sat looking at my hands shaking thinking: “what the hell is going on?” I had always thought and being led to believe that withdrawal symptoms were caused by the body needing the substance it became reliant on. Why was I so bad when it was just gambling? I couldn’t understand it, it was hours, and I logged back onto the gamblers anonymous chat. I explained what was going on. I told them I thought I was freaking out and making myself ill, that my anxiety was causing it or, that quite possibly I was dying. However, again, this made me think it was my anxiety because that thought was crazy.

They explained it to me, they explained that, while some people don’t have withdrawal symptoms some actually do. These can range from urges to depression, suicidal thoughts, shakes, chest pain, etc. Everything you would have with substance abuse you can also have it with gambling. I was baffled, I had always believed that withdrawal was down to the body changing, the body needing that substance to survive and removing it was pushing into an unstable state. I never realised that gambling was the same, that it affected us just the same. Although I had not used a substance, my mind had gotten so used to the new brain chemistry and dopamine that gambling had created that removing it affected me. I remember one of the men saying: “if you have gambled every single day, your mind is used to that”. You stopped not so long ago and, right now, your mind is going crazy because it is once again dealing with an unknown and unusual feeling; as if something was missing. He was right, still sounded crazy but he was right.

After chatting on that chat room, I began reading up on gambling addiction withdrawal symptoms. I read about gambling and how it is different between people; how the brain responds when someone gambles and how this differs between someone who has an addiction and someone who doesn’t.

In my readings, I found that many people with addictions -gambling, drinking, drugs, etc.-, have less activity in the prefrontal cortex. The prefrontal cortex is the part of the brain that deals with decision-making and thus controlling our impulses and cognitive behaviour. It is said that those with addictions have a less active prefrontal cortex when shown a gambling video or when they are physically gambling, compared to those who with no addictions. This also applies for the ventral striatum, which is the part of our brain that process the rewards feelings.

Once again, while doing something that resembles gambling or actually gambling, people with any type of addiction had a smaller response with respect to those who did not suffer from them. The fact that those with addictions are showing signs of less activity in their ventral striatum and prefrontal cortex compared to those without addictions shows and tells us how and why some people suffer from them. In a way, it links all addictions and shows that, perhaps, those with addictions actually do have a medical condition; hence, there is a medical reason, other than: “they just got carried away.”

Whereas those without an addiction would instantly feel the reward from winning £10 or having a glass of alcohol, those with addictions often don’t feel it and, therefore, keep going. It pushes us into trying to achieve the reward feeling that often leads us to gambling or to another addiction.

When it comes to decision-making processes, people with no addictions will process the risk of hitting £100. They would see that those £100 are a small reward now and will consider the bigger reward if they keep going but also the bigger loss if they lose. They do this with a mind that is able to process this well. On the other hand, those with an addiction often find themselves less active in their decision-making processing and, therefore, find it harder to determine the risk between a small reward now and a larger one later.

So, from what I read, it appears that all addictions -no matter what type- show signs in the brain that they are all similar. They all have in common reduced levels of activity in those specific areas of the brain of the sufferers. I found myself sitting for hours reading, over and over. I read so much. Some stuff seemed like utter nonsense while other stuff appeared to be believable. I realised that I needed to stop burying my head in the sand and seek help.

I needed real help, so I had booked an appointment with the doctor for the day after I believe I did. I can’t remember the dates, everything was such a mess. I believe it was day three when I had booked the doctors appointment for, which would have been on January the 23rd. I remember sitting and considering what I had just read: while doing drugs and drinking provide you with a substance that trigger certain chemicals in the brain, so did gambling. Dopamine is something I knew very little of before my addiction. I knew Dopamine was induced by strangling. Eating a lot of protein increases the amount of dopamine in the brain. Still, these things tend to increase it in a small amount and really quick; it then disappears and dies down. Gambling every day, sometimes for hours at a time, meant that the dopamine amount spiked to a new high. I found myself fascinated in it, which is why I had spent hours that day reading on that. I had never realised there already was a slight dopamine amount in your brain which increased with certain activities. I had always thought it was created by the use of substances.

Day 3 – From what my mind can remember, I believe I was still shaking and sweating, still having heart palpitations and still a mess. I remember walking into the doctors sweating and shaking, wondering if people would look at me like I was an addict having withdrawals. Going to the doctor seemed to make it immensely worse. My anxiety was spiking, my trichomania was out of control. I was mentally unstable, and it was noticeable as everyone pointed it out to me.

I remember feeling hopeful and that I would walk into that room and leave feeling better; leave the doctor’s office feeling like I had the answers and the support I needed. I was ready for the doctor to say: “This is your addiction, this is how we can help, this is what you need to do and not do”. I guess my mind had high hopes because I left feeling anything but supported or better. I actually left in a worse state than when I went in. I left, and then I cried. I walked home and just cried and thought: why?

I remember walking in and sitting down with my hands fiddling. I couldn’t look at the doctor’s face. I was beyond the point of anxious. I explained I had a gambling addiction. I explained I had gambled away the rent money and had just stopped three or four days before and that, I wasn’t coping. I explained how my mental health was uncontrollable, how my anxiety was through the roof, and that I was destroying my hair. I told him everything.

I felt better instantly. I felt like I had done it. I was on the path to success. I had just told a doctor about my problem. Therefore, I am going to get help. I remember him asking about my mental health before my addiction. Not during or now but before. He kept asking if I had sought help for my mental health before the addiction. I admitted I had and was given pills but, my anxiety got in the way and stopped me from taking them.

Reading stories of how others had gotten worse, not better, pushed me into fearing them. Additionally, there was the fact that I already feared drugs so, for me, drugs were not an option. The thought of taking drugs scares me, even medical ones. So, going to the doctor for the first time years before and, being prescribed pills didn’t help me. I had explained back then that I had a fear of drugs. I think in my entire life, I have maybe taken 20 co-codamol pills; I just can’t do it.

I remember him asking how my mental health was during the addiction while I gambled. I remember telling him that it was fine because I was numb as I didn’t feel anything. If I did feel off, I gambled and felt better. After, though, I felt worse and like I was falling and quick. I then explained how I became a mess since I stopped gambling, how unbalanced I was and cried over everything; how moments of my life kept coming back and how I kept seeing traumatic times in my life. One small thing that was so small and simple would trigger that feeling. He sat nodding, writing down notes; he turned, looked at me and smiled. I was ready for his help. There I was, seated and ready for his verdict; prepared to hear if there were meetings I could go to or, other websites to visit, etc.

“I think you got carried away and just need a hobby.” I looked at him confused, a slight snicker escaping his lips. “Not gambling obviously.” He proceeded to print off exercise sheets and told me to exercise daily and get a new hobby… you know like I was a person who didn’t know what doing exercise was. Truth is, I did exercise daily, I walked the kids to school and back, and that was a half-hour walk there, and then a half-hour walk back. I would walk to the local supermarkets that were at least 45 minutes away. I was in no way lazy, or inactive. I walked every day!

It was at that moment I realised that even some doctors did not care or understand. He laughed, told me all I needed was to get a hobby different from gambling. Why? Because gambling had numbed my mental health? It hadn’t conquered it, and it hadn’t fixed my mental health. It buried it deep within the sand. So, when I stopped gambling, everything flooded through. Everything was worse than before, I felt worse at that moment than I ever had in my life.

How was exercise going to help? How was a hobby going to help? I remember telling him something like: “it isn’t that simple”, I was almost arguing with him so he could listen. I had already explained why I never took anti-depressants. I was pushing for something; for some sort of support. All I got related to addiction, was a self-help leaflet for beating any addiction but not mine, just an addiction! I remember he gave in slightly and prescribed me anti-depressants, but even that felt like it was to shut me up, just for seven days, that was all! He gave me seven days and told me to book in again for a review once those days passed. Seven days? From what I read that anti-depressants take weeks to take effect. He had given me just seven days which again pushed me to think that he didn’t want to help me but gave me them to get rid of me.

I left in a state of depression. I walked home, crying and wondering what the point was in me even going to the doctor? I sat down and considered why was I even going back home? I sat watching the road, wondering if it would be easier just to quit. If doctors saw it as a hobby and I got carried away, what hope did I have for society to realise this shit was real? I felt like there was nothing left, nothing at all in my life. I felt like there was no help. The one time I decided to go to the doctor to get help for my mental health and addiction in years, I was laughed at.

I went home and I told the kids’ dad everything. I reached out on Facebook and explained it all. Everyone told me to go back, to insist on seeing someone else. I felt like everything was going wrong. I felt like a failure. I then turned on myself. My hate for the doctor became hate towards myself. Why didn’t I say something? Why didn’t I refuse and tell him “no, you are wrong”? Why didn’t I scream and cry? Why did I not shout and say: “what the hell are you laughing for?” I guess it is because I cannot do confrontation; I guess the fact I cannot physically argue with people is why. Give me a phone, and I feel safe, I feel like I can tell them how I really feel. Tell me to write it down and I can. To do it face to face? I could not, and I still cannot. I pushed myself already by trying to get him to listen. Saying: No! I am not okay and admitting that I thought about killing myself. It was useless, though.

What do you do when even the doctors see your addiction as nothing more than you getting carried away? When you go crying out for help because you’re on the verge of suicide and they hand you a workout sheet and tell you to get a hobby? I was told to report him; every one that knew said: “report him”. I didn’t, I don’t know why but I didn’t.

I guess it’s because in my mind I saw myself reporting him and seeing how he was pulled out of work which would make someone sick suffer as there would be one doctor down. Part of me hopes he reads this and realises this is about him and that I was on the edge of suicide. He was the only one I told this, and he saw it as nothing. I don’t want him to feel guilty, or ashamed; I want him to realise what he did had an effect on me and that he takes it seriously the next time someone talks to him about his or her addiction, no matter how crazy or stupid he thinks it is -gambling, shopping, eating, etc-.

So, I was left feeling hopeless again. When depression is so bad, you don’t want to live. How the hell are you meant to find the strength and courage to exercise? I remember logging into the gamblers anonymous website and joining the chat room. I once again poured my heart out and explained everything to them. They seemed to be the only ones who truly cared. No one asked me how I was ever again. I think every now, and then someone would make a comment such as “are you still not gambling?”, but that would be it, nothing else. I believe that in my four years, maybe four people have actually reached out to me and said: “how are you? How is not gambling going? Well done for getting this far. Four people. How bad is that? Four people from my entire life -both online and offline-.

I remember that online conversation well. It was with someone different; I can’t remember who he was. I just remember he had not gambled in over ten years. He told me about how he had self-medicated. He had mental health problems, and they had gotten to the point where he was unstable. He mentioned that when we gamble, this helps to keep our mental health in control. It is a form of self-medicating.

He told me how plenty of people do it knowingly while others do it unknowingly. Some people use techniques such as doing exercise, having a routine, saying affirmations, etc. In a way, that is self-medicating. You are not taking any medication, but you’re finding a way to control your mental health by yourself.

He explained that due to the fact that my mental health was bad and getting worse, gambling became my addiction and helped me self-medicate. However, just like with any addiction, at the start it may have been £20 here and there once a week -and I would win £100-£200-. Soon though, those £20 were not enough; that £100-£200 win wasn’t enough as it no longer numbed my mental condition. It no longer had an effect on me. There was no buzz, there was no rush, there was no reward in it. So, each time I lost, I went up and hence, losing more. Bets started at 20p, but slowly I ended up betting £10 or more because betting 20p or even £5 didn’t seem worth it in my mind.

A £5 bet could have won me anything from £100-£10,000 which is a lot, right? A 20p bet could have won me from £1-£500, yet my mind, at that moment did not see a reward in betting so small. I felt nothing when I did so, I pushed and pushed to the highest bet the site would allow me to place on that game.

Once again, someone who had no medical backing helped me more than the doctor. He explained to me how exercise could help. Even though I didn’t feel like talking about it, he explained how the doctor acted wrong, and that he should have been more compassionate; He explained it to me better. The doctor referred to my addiction as a hobby because most people still saw gambling as a hobby. So, if someone became addicted, people just assumed they got carried away.

So, my question is: where is the line? Where is that line people draw between someone getting carried away and someone for whom it becomes a problem and an addiction? Many people will have an answer. Many will tell you how there is no such thing as addiction, and people just get carried away and can’t control themselves.

In today’s world, where most things are becoming understood and acceptable, addictions seem to continually be troublesome for people. While alcohol and drug addictions seem to be at the top when it comes to acceptance, gambling appears to still be at the bottom. People misunderstand it and misjudge just how bad it can be. That night, it was explained that I could use a website that bans me from joining any gambling sites. It takes my name, email, date of birthday, where I live, phone number, bank, etc. Then, if I try to join any website that operates under them, I would get removed from it immediately. Also, I would not have access to any website I already joined.

I decided to do it for some reason, knowing I had money in the bank. The fact that I know I couldn’t gamble because I didn’t know my card number was driving me insane. I considered calling the bank for yet another card to gamble, as I knew getting that card back to gamble would be impossible. I realised that I was going to gamble. If I didn’t take action, I would gamble Even my mind was, in some ways saying: “Don’t worry, people are already forgetting so in a month, you can have your card back and gamble”.

So, I decided I would use that service. I registered, but my mind was still saying to me: “yeah right, next week you will find a site to play on”. I remember feeling a sense of relief. I removed yet another thing that the addiction could use to win. I removed my ability to gamble as easily. If I wanted to play online slots, I knew that I had to search really well for a site that isn’t backed by that company. I knew I would still struggle; I knew I would find one site and gamble at some point. I know that the temptation may get the better of me if I am in a store alone once I finally have access to my money again without it being checked on if I was gambling.

Day 5. I don’t remember much, other than I was a mess. I was trying to pretend I was fine; I smiled and acted normal for the kids. I had to. I remember calling the doctor and booking another appointment which wouldn’t have been before those 7 pills ran out -not that I took them anyway-.

I remember I had to find a way to tell the landlord I did not have his rent money, because it was due to be paid. I was not strong enough to do. In that first week of not gambling, I was mentally unstable, I was fighting to find reasons to keep going. I seemed to have unleashed hell within my mind, and nothing was stopping it; nothing was helping. Everything I tried failed, I tried keeping myself busy, I tried going out with the kids. I also tried a new hobby, as the doctor suggested. Nothing worked, it was like my mind was too fixed on gambling. Everything I did seemed to be nothing in comparison; it didn’t even take the edge off the feelings. The more I tried to feel better, the worse I felt, and the more I felt like running and hiding.

I wasn’t ready to face the world, the landlord was asking where the rent money was. I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid of telling him the truth. If the doctor laughed and mocked me, how would others react? Especially when I had spent their money? I tried hiding that week, and I failed. I lied about the rent money, so I didn’t have to say I had fallen to an addiction. I tried pretending I was okay, smiling and acting normal, but it just killed me even more. I kept going, I kept trying to find the path I was meant to take, the whole week I was unable to do much. Sure, I did something because I had my kids, but other than that, there was nothing there.

I remember that week going slow. I went from shaking to feeling too hot to not being able to sleep, frequently waking up and grabbing my phone, mimicking the action of going to gamble. I couldn’t find anything within myself to get me to change. I was drowning beneath these issues, beneath the demons I had locked away in that quicksand to try and protect myself, and they seemed to just want revenge from me for hiding them for so long.

I remember thinking: “I should have just kept going. I should have continued to gamble. At least then, I wasn’t so mentally unstable” My mind was continually wondering: would it really be so bad to die? I would no longer be dragging my kids down with me. They would no longer see my vague blank expression that was trying to hide the suicidal thoughts. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t see the point. No one could reach into my mind and fix that part that was broken. No one could turn around to me and say: “Here do this, and you won’t feel so bad anymore”.

So, I kept it to myself, just like I had for the years before I became addicted. I didn’t want to come across as weak, or as someone without control. Having no control scared me but knowing others knew I had no control scared me even more. I didn’t want people talking about me, people telling me I would be fine. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want the typical bullshit response people gave to us when we were ready to end it all.

Everything I had hidden became a reality; every bit of pain; every memory I had that used to taunt me, was back. Everything was more vivid, it was like everywhere I turned there was a demon there waiting to smack me down another level. Each one kept going until I felt I had no hope left.

I remember sitting that night and crying, crying, thinking that I would have been dead if it wasn’t for my kids. I wouldn’t have stayed around, I wouldn’t have kept fighting it. I would have ended it all. Gambling seemed to hide everything, and stopping it meant my safety blanket had been pulled from under me. I was quickly drowning in everything I had hidden and, on top of that, I also had the pain, the temptation, the hopelessness, and the need to gamble, as well as the feeling of having no control.

Every day was different…no, this is wrong. Actually, every hour was different, which made it worse. One hour I could feel restless; then the next like I had no control and then, I could feel like at any minute the worst possible thing would happen -even though I had no idea what that could be-. Everything was changing at such a fast pace that my mind could not keep up with. My mind could not cope with the strain much longer.

I remember that week someone reached out to me after seeing my live video on Facebook. This man angered me and

made me call him a name because of what he said. I remembered how bad I felt with the doctor, and what this person said just made me want to reach through the phone and shake him. I can’t mention his name, but I can explain what happened. He was not on my Facebook list of friends, neither was his partner, so he must have seen my video after someone shared it. Either that or he had searched gambling addiction and came across one of my posts.

He told me about how his wife had been gambling a lot and that he had tried everything to help her and didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to break the trust she had with him by telling people or getting me to message her. I asked him about his wife: when she started gambling? But most importantly, how he had tried helping her? This was key because whatever he did could make her addiction worse or better.

He told me he cancelled all the credit cards and ordered new ones to prevent her from gambling; he was giving her no money at all and told her she needed to control herself and stop as she was killing the whole family. I remember reading this message -which was far longer than what I just wrote- and thinking: what the hell? I tried to stay calm as I knew it was not easy to live with someone who was spending all the money on gambling. I knew that telling her to control herself would have killed her slightly. I felt like he believed this was nothing and she just needed to get a grip – just like the doctor told me- and got carried away. I asked him why he thought she needed to control herself and whether he really thought that was all she needed to beat the addiction. His reply showed me just how messed up the world is.

He told me it wasn’t an addiction and that people can’t be addicted to gambling as it doesn’t change them; they are not harming their body or making it rely on a drug. I sat there, reading his message back, again and again, thinking: what the hell? How is his partner going to overcome this if this man can’t even accept what his wife is facing?

I replied and called him a di*k because I felt his wife pain at that moment. I sent him links to the articles I had read repeatedly about how gamblers have a slower reaction in their brains; about how gambling works and, how it is an actual addiction. I also told him that taking the cards and money would not help as it would just push her into a feeling of having no control and make her worse. She had to come to that decision on her own, no matter how bad things were. He couldn’t push her out of the habit. However, he could guide her and give her advice. He certainly should not tell her to control herself since this was not a real addiction; that will make her feel worse. If she was like me, I know that is what would happen as people making out it was nothing to me pushed me into that place of thinking, am I really that weak I can’t control myself?

I remember he later contacted me again and apologised; he said he had always been led to believe addiction was caused by the body needing a substance to live. He told me that he would talk to her, show her the resources I had sent him and would try not to act impulsively and on first thoughts. I showed him some of my posts on Facebook; the ones about how it felt like when no one understood me and how easier it would be had I had people closer to me who believed and actually cared. I have no idea how that went. I didn’t reach back out to him again and ask. I didn’t want to. He had come to me for advice behind his partners back, and the last thing I wanted was her to see the message and cause harm.

Although I do remember how he felt. His messages were a cry for help on her behalf. He told me he felt she was choosing gambling over him and their kids and that all he had left to do was walk away with his kids. He was already forced into two jobs as she was building up debt. He did not know who to turn to because he felt his family and friends would laugh and not see it as what it really was: an addiction like any other. I felt worried about them and understood the feeling of not knowing how they would pay next week’s rent. I know because I have realized, first-hand, how this affects those around us and how people would judge him and her. But most importantly, though, he had no idea how she would react: some days she was fine others, she would be unhinged and angry.

He wasn’t the only one who messaged me that first week. There were a few women on Facebook who reached out to me and expressed how they felt they had a problem with gambling. They wanted my advice on what to do because they felt they were the only women with this problem. Everywhere they looked, it was always men with gambling addictions but never women. Of course, I gave them advice and every now, and then I catch up with some of them and ask how they were doing. Some are still gambling today though, despite me offering advice and help because, for them, it is not easy being a woman with a gambling addiction. I had heard this it so many times during those four years, mostly from men as well.

“Sorry if my question sounds weird, but gambling? What sort of gambling? Sorry, it’s just that… I have never heard of a woman having a gambling addiction.”

“How did you gamble? I have only ever heard of guys gambling and becoming addicted. Was it horse racing or something else?”

I answered the questions of those people who came forward and asked. I didn’t hold it against them and, I hoped that telling them about my addiction would make them realise that women also suffer. So, if they ever have a partner, daughter, mother or sister who shows signs, they already know. It’s crazy though, right? I mean, sure, it is known that people have gambling addictions. However, the fact that many men didn’t realise women could become addicted to gambling as well made me think: if men have this belief, then women must also feel the same way when they start to figure out they have problems with gambling. What if that push them to think they aren’t really addicted?

Is it only women?

How did it get to the point that an addiction is so widespread, yet people don’t see it? Why do people think that only men fall victim to it? There is no way I will ever read those messages and pretend it is normal. I always read them with shock and surprise. Do they not see the adverts targeting women or the TV shows sponsored by gambling companies that target women in order to pull them in? Do people really think that gambling is only a men-only addiction?

I guess it is true. I mean, every new person who tells me that has me baffled. I don’t get angry, I don’t get annoyed. I, in a way, understand. The world is fixated on addictions, and it seems that, whenever I read or see something about gambling addiction, there is a man: shows, films, basically everything. It is always a man in them with a gambling addiction. How can society understand, women can also become addicted to gambling when it is always focused on men and when media keep relating gambling to men? I remember reading that 1 in 3 problem gamblers are women. Still, even that article explained that the figure is an understatement because they could not account for those women who didn’t realise they could be addicted. Or, as I believe, those women who feel like they cannot reach out because it is mostly men who have a gambling problem.

I believe the gap between male and female gamblers is getting smaller. I do not think those 33% of female gamblers would not have even be 5% many years ago. However, it does not matter what proportion they represent; even if right now 5% of problem gamblers were women, it should not matter. They should still feel like there is support, and that their addiction is real even if they are female.

I actually decided to look into this. One way of doing this was by joining Facebook support groups for problem gamblers. They told me their members were exactly 50% women and 50% men in one of those groups. Another group told me that 45% of their members were female. This shows us that maybe there is not a gap or, maybe at least not such a “big gap”? Maybe when they conduct research, they do not find the women, as there is certainly a much smaller gap of male/female gamblers in these groups.