July 2000

Volume No. II, Issue No. 7 July 2000


THE THREE OF US
The three of us: I, Myself, and Me were getting dreadfully bored with this sanctified, non-gambling life.
Where are the swimming lion fish, the fluttering butterflies, and the charging rhinos of the slot machines? Where is the fun, the excitement, and the anticipation of winning? Where are the psychedelic colors that intensify the senses?

The first person of this trio—I—the 9th letter of the English alphabet—is already making up the winning combinations of plays.
Nine nickels. Is that really almost half a dollar? But 9 nickels would get me all the possible winning combinations on a slot machine. Minimal rewards, true, but also no self anger at missed possibilities.

But then also ‘I’ stands for Incomplete on the grading scale. Who? What? Me? Incomplete life? Because of gambling? The question is posed and lingers, suspended in the air. The I does not want an answer.

The I is bored, but it calls to mind yet another meaning of I, the one spelled with the letters E-G-O.

Ego: as in "an individual, according to Webster, who is aware of him or herself that perceives the external world through senses and consciously controls the impulses—"Consciously controls the impulses—The repetition of the thought has only the intensity of an echo in the desert. And so this ego too wants the winning combinations of Lady Luck, which would make it feel powerful and in control.

But then there emerges the second person of this trio: MYSELF. As in "my real, true or actual self." This self is being detached from the first person (I could not possibly be doing this!) while methodically pushing the cold buttons of the slot machines in hopes of achieving a momentary "high" with the winning combination.

And the third person of the trio—ME—like in " that`s ME " wonders in utter dismay as to what happened to ME? When did this happen to ME? And why did this happen to ME?

On the surface I could answer all the questions with the mind of a clinical analyst.

What happened? I developed a disease, a compulsion.

When did it happen? When I retired.

Why did it happen? I was finished with life, I was bored, and I had endless time on my hands.

Or was it because of my age, my ethnicity, heredity, environment, or perhaps some deficiency or chemical imbalance in my brain, or some other psychobiological reason, or because of a multitude of open and hidden characters in me? Or is it a combination of all of the above and more?

But then again, does it matter? Do I need to know? Experts tell me, "No, not really."

But knowing and feeling that God is in the faces of each and every one of you who are traveling, or have traveled, this same road with me, and my belief in this HIGHER POWER, to which I surrender, has helped me survive today, just one more day of this gambling-free way of life.......................................Inga L., Phoenix, AZ



Gambling As Fatal Attraction

I was a slots player who became a broke-down slots slave. But in the beginning, I loved gambling. I loved the racket the machines made. I loved the casino's dim lighting and the smokey smell. I loved to feel the heft of a hundred dollars worth of tokens in a plastic tray. I was crazy nuts in love with slot machines and everything about them.

Most of all, I loved the way gambling shut off my thoughts and numbed my feelings when I lost my job, and with it, my sense of self-worth.

I loved not wisely but too well, until gambling became the most important relationship in my life -- and threatened to become my only relationship. Well before the affair ended, I no longer loved gambling. I hated and feared it, and I hated myself for my seeming inability to stop. But my desire to gamble was so strong it was crippling in its intensity -- stronger than my growing fear, my regard for those I loved, and my sense of self-preservation.

But why did I let things go so far? Why didn't I just stop?

Looking back, the answer seems simple, even obvious. The reason I didn't "just stop" was because I was in the grip of a terrible addiction. This being the case, I had two options -- I could keep on gambling, or I could stop gambling. But I could not control my gambling, any more than a heroin addict can control her need for drugs. A simple truth I refused to accept for years.

Unfortunately for addicts of every sort, many people cherish the notion that all addictions are simply willful misbehavior -- and to hell with what the doctors say. In addition to dealing with the widespread lack of understanding of addiction in general, compulsive gamblers also have to confront the widely-held misconception that only substances are addictive -- and they have to get over it themselves.*

Small wonder I resisted the idea that I was addicted to gambling. First of all, my addiction made me want to believe I could learn to control my gambling, in spite of ample evidence to the contrary. Add to that my fear that people would think I was trying to pass off mere weakness as a serious illness. And to top it all off, my definition of addiction was limited to substance abuse!

Brain Drain

Ever wonder why it is so doggone hard to quit gambling compulsively? And stay quit? Recent research shows some indications that compulsive gambling may "hijack" the reward and pleasure pathways of the brain in the same way as drug addiction.

For example, according to Dr. Carl Erickson at the University of Texas College of Pharmacy, using cocaine triggers floods of dopamine in the brain (this is your brain on coke!). After enough time, your brain will adapt to this situation by cutting down on your own internal "natural" dopamine by reducing the number of receptors available. After this adaptation, without cocaine, you feel bad, depressed, nothing looks or feels good, and craving sets in. The only way to get back to normal is more cocaine. And so it goes. To make matters even worse, your brain has also stored "privileged" memories of the intense pleasure you got from the cocaine high. This memory is forever, and will take precedence in affecting your emotions and behavior.

Research using new brain imaging techniques, cited in the National Research Council's report, indicates that gambling and drug abuse may share the same addictive process and have similar effects in the brain. For example, winning was found to induce the same euphoria as that produced by psychoactive drugs; brain dopamine levels were found to be elevated while research subjects played a video game for money.

Genetic scientists have found molecular evidence that suggests a similar genetic pathway between compulsive gambling and drug addiction. Although the very few studies on compulsive gambling and the brain are preliminary, evidence is accumulating that compulsive gambling involves the same mechanisms and brain adaptations involved in drug addiction.

What might this mean to the woman who is struggling to quit gambling or maintain her recovery? If the same brain adaptations are occurring as in drug abuse, we could learn some things from the drug addiction school of hard knocks. First, it's important to forgive yourself for wanting to gamble, craving to gamble, and even relapsing into gambling. It takes weeks, months, even years for the brain to readapt to its normal way of functioning. The "privileged" memories last a lifetime.

Second, there is speculation among some researchers that "talk therapy" and 12-step meetings can actually help change the brain in a positive direction. "Keep coming back, it works!" makes even more sense.

Third, remember that you are not "recovered," but "recovering." You may never rid yourself of some intense memories, so it's important to work your recovery program every day, one day at a time......Diane Rae Davis, PhD, Washington Check out Diane's online research survey of women in recovery from compulsive gambling.. Participants needed! http://sswhs.ewu.edu/gambling