Volume No. V, Issue No. 1                                               January 2003

Staying in recovery isn't always easy, even if I stay around 12-step programs and therapy. I think the need to be focused on myself to be in recovery makes it harder; my children, clients and friends seem to need me so much. I'm sure confusion over this conflict contributed to my difficulty in seeing what was really happening to me.

I have been an Addiction's Therapist for nearly 22 years. After practicing for nearly 8 years in substance abuse facilities, I married a compulsive gambler although I didn't know of his addiction at the time. I do know that I married too soon after my divorce, but I had great hopes that this marriage would work.

My husband was very funny, bright and wealthy. He loved lots of stimulation from various forms of entertainment: concerts, poker, live sporting events, horse-racing, comedy clubs, fine dining, theater, trips to St. Maarten, craps tables and the stock market.

After we decided to marry, we agreed that a brand new start away from Detroit would be best for both of us. He was eager to look at the West, with a keen interest in Las Vegas. I needed a more family oriented city. Phoenix seemed the most logical place for us to settle, and we moved there in 1988. With 2 children, 2 step-children and a new baby on the way, I stayed very busy. Everything seemed good. However, a lot was going on that I didn't see.

Family vacations were always to Tahoe, Vegas, St. Maarten and Laughlin because my husband could gamble, while the children and I played and shopped. Everything looked so nice from the outside. People frequently stopped us to comment on what a beautiful family we had. Nobody perceived the nightmare in our lives. Not even me, at the time.

I believed that he made a lot of money, took care of us financially and was entitled to have fun in any way he chose. I said nothing as we went to sporting events all over the country, which he wagered on. We saw games everywhere, and our children met famous athletes.

Before, during and after each game, he made calls to bookies. He called the stock broker every morning from each hotel we stayed in; yet, my occasional calls to family or friends aggravated him. But from the outside, we looked like the All-American Family.

After our new baby came along, I found myself pregnant again within 4 months. I slowed down at work and remained busy raising our children. I didn't handle any of our finances, unless it was to sign a document he asked me to. I was raised in a family where only the man handled the finances.

Calls from creditors came in, and I started to ask questions. Initially, my spouse   would tell me these were wrong numbers or that the companies had made an error. Sometimes, I would overhear "the check is in the mail." I started to become more concerned. It seemed like we should be able to manage easily with the amount of money we made.

Calls from creditors became more frequent. My husband became more anxious and aggravated. He was uncomfortable at home and eager to leave. He left the house more frequently, wanting to do errands or look at potential locations for various new business ventures. He spent more time in social gambling clubs and at the local race track. Soon he was taking day trips to Vegas.

He became angry when I refused to go with him because of the children and said he felt abandoned emotionally. I had, in fact, become more critical and short-tempered. He started to play in a high stakes poker game with several other local business men. Our social group became the family members of these players. When the spouses had time to talk alone, I began to realize that many of us were experiencing similar situations, thoughts and feelings.

Two years into my marriage, I confronted my spouse for the first time. I said his gambling was having a negative influence and that I was unhappy with all of the time it took away from us as a couple and from our family. He turned that conversation to confront me with not being a good mother, not making enough of a financial contribution to our marriage and spending too much money. He said I was no longer a supportive partner.

Staying in recovery isn’t always easy even if I stay around 12 step programs and therapy. Sometimes, I think it’s harder for me because I need to be focused on myself to be in recovery. Yet others seem to need me so much; my children and clients and friends. I’m sure that confusion contributed to how difficult it was for me to see what was really happening to me. I started to see a therapist. I sought out someone who knew nothing of gambling. I still didn't see that as a root problem. Perhaps, I was causing some of these problems Initially, I started therapy to save my marriage. Ultimately, I realized that I was in therapy to look at saving my life.

Renee Siegel, AZ

What was it like to be a VLT addict? It seemed as though I had set my own house on fire. Everything I believed in and had worked for was burning before my eyes.

I could see: the communication dying, my marriage falling apart, concern in my children's eyes, my freezer getting emptier, my savings disappearing, and my credit card balances escalating from my cash advances.

Before that I was an "ordinary" wife, mother and career person. And I knew better than most what gambling does to families. My 14-year first marriage had ended because of my husband's love of the racetrack.

Laid off after 22 years, my career, so important to me, was squelched. Retirement would provide just 20% of my previous annual income. Feelings of indescribable fear haunted me day and night. My stomach felt raw; I couldn't eat or sleep.

I began a fruitless search for employment. Government departments were downsizing, but the VLT industry was flourishing. Almost 5000 VLTs blanketed the province of Manitoba. My home town, with a population of 2500 people, has 48 VLTs, nearly 1 machine for every 50 people.

I was vulnerable. The first time I sat in front of a VLT, the rawness in the pit of my stomach vanished, and I experienced a feeling of "well-ness." As if to a powerful drug, my addiction grew. VLTs became an escape from my painful reality.

I sought help from Gamblers Anonymous, then from the Addictions Foundation of Manitoba, then back to GA. After each short abstinence, the gambling binges lasted longer. Nothing changed. My life was being sucked into the VLTs. My emotions out-of-control, my second marriage crumbling before my eyes, I blamed myself. Logic, self-esteem—the very essence of my existence—vanishing.

In hopes of harnessing my addiction, I kept a diary. I loathed who I had become: a slovenly, disreputable woman who had tossed everything I valued into a VLT. It couldn't hurt worse to die.

Having hit rock bottom, I was led by my sister to the Women's Health Clinic. At the Clinic I received the help that was right for me. My counselor never treated me as though I were "sick." I was accepted unconditionally, and it was my counselor's belief in me, as a person with dignity and ability, that led me back to health. I did a lot of hard work, emotionally, and received help along the way. Painfully revisiting the past and rediscovering who I am helped me on my journey to recovery.

My husband and I went for counseling; a skilled counselor helped us slowly rebuild our marriage from the ruins. Today, I can see the trust in my husband's eyes, once again.

People are most vulnerable when life circumstances toughen. Some resort to drug use or alcohol to escape from their painful reality; others take up gambling. The notion that the gambler is flawed is not the whole picture. Society also plays a role. In Manitoba, VLT gambling is legal, government controlled, socially accepted, and condoned as a community fund raiser. The Provincial government collects about $220 million annually in gambling revenues; as documented in Jan. 1998 in the Winnipeg Sun, $125 million of the total comes from VLTs.

Clearly, many people suffer as I have. The availability of VLTs, coupled with new technology, will hook people even faster. This can only mean increased problems for individuals, their families and future generations.

Compulsive VLT gambling is not a matter of free choice; it's like cocaine without the stigma, gradually hooking millions across Canada. VLTs are mesmerizing. Once hooked, you yearn to try again and again, loss after loss, powerless to break free. How many people in Manitoba—financially responsible before VLTs were legalized in 1991—now suffer silently, blaming themselves alone? As a society we are taking steps to recognize the dangers associated with drinking and drugs, but an eerie—and seductive—silence still surrounds VLT addiction. We have a long way to go.

      ISSUES IGNORED = PROBLEMS MULTIPLIED
      by Mary Lou Costanzo, LCSW, NCGC

Loneliness can eat away at your soul. Your children are gone, your husband is a bore—and maybe a boor, as well. Alcohol makes you hot and tired, instead of high. Pot is expensive, not to mention illegal. Other men are just as bad, or worse, than the one you have. What are you to do? Gamble?

Unfortunately, this is too often the case for many women who become problem gamblers. All of the ills described above can melt at the casino. You can get high without getting tired and sweaty from alcohol. You can feel exhilarated, cared for by others and respected. And you can escape from your loneliness.

But this is all temporary, and the consequences of using gambling in this way are crippling. Losing all you have worked for, and even more sometimes, causes debilitating problems that develop very quickly and create many more issues than existed before.

What is profoundly difficult is that many women, when they start to gamble, do not realize the addictive potential of this activity until it is too late. In debt and overwhelmed, they then struggle with how to cope. This is where both Gamblers Anonymous and treatment come in.

Respect, concern, a feeling of caring and being cared for—all of these can return once a woman stops gambling and can visualize her life differently. Suddenly, "life begins at 50!" becomes possible.

Horizons can open up when recovery starts; a woman can change, and her life can feel different—full. Change involves work; recovery from pathological gambling is not easy. A gambler has to deal with issues she ignored before, but the encouragement, support and strength she gains through recovery enable her to deal with them!!

Nationally Certified Gambling Counselor, Mary Lou Costanzo, helps compulsive gamblers and their families through Connecticut's Problem Gambling Services. She welcomes questions and comments from our readers. If you want to contact her, send an e-mail to Marilyn or Betty, and it will be forwarded. Please put "For Mary Lou" in the subject line.

We thank our reader from Michigan for her contribution