Volume No. V, Issue No. 7                                                  July 2003

"NO MORE FUNDS"

My name is Carole; I am a recovering compulsive gambler, 49 years old, a wife of almost 31 years, mother of 2 adult children, and grandmother of 2 fabulous grandchildren. I began my letter with I am a compulsive gambler because, had I continued to self-destruct, all the other things most certainly would have disappeared.

My father, God bless his soul, was an alcoholic and gambler. He passed on 4 years ago, and the only time in my life I saw peace on his face was at the moment of his death. On the plane ride home after his death, I counted among my blessings the fact that I hadn't inherited his alcoholism or gambling. What an ironic laugh!

My husband and I had been to Reno and Las Vegas with friends and had a FUN time. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I had a problem with gambling.

Our wee city held a referendum to introduce a casino to our lovely town; I headed the YES committee. A casino would bring so much to our town, and how could anyone become addicted to a slot machine? How ridiculous was that?

My husband and I enjoyed going out and sharing a meal on Friday night. It soon became a custom to dump $20 at the casino–harmless fun. I cannot tell you when the compulsion began, but soon enough after a big win, I became "obsessed" with thoughts of going back to the "sin-bin," as I like to call our casino. I remember the exact amount of my first big win, down to the last odd dollar, but I can’t remember the amount of all the losses.

I won and won ... and then began to lose and lose. I would put all my ducks in a row–clean the house, prepare meals–and then dress "just right" to treat myself to a reward, a retreat, just ONE hour. My thoughts were all consuming. I had to hit the sin-bin by at least 10:30; they open at 10 ... didn't want to appear toooo eager!

I walk daily, so that was one way of curbing my gambling; if I was meeting my friend at 11:30, this only gave me an hour. I had it all figured out in my insane and twisted mind. Somehow, early on I KNEW I had a problem.

The $20 grew to $40 and $60 and so on and so on. I hit the wall when I had been to the ATM machine in a frenzy–couldn't tell you how many times–and the slip said "no more funds." I had taken over $1,000 from our chequing account and couldn't remember!

I was on my knees, praying to my Lord for help that night, March 6/2002 ... over 16 months ago. Saw a gambling counselor the next morning and haven't looked back. He suggested banning from the casino ... super roadblock for me. Today, I help other people in trouble, and live day to day.

Thanks for listening, Carole; British Columbia, Canada

      "GOING FOR BROKE"

      Lifetime original movie, "Going for Broke," originally aired July, 2003.

Delores: What a powerful movie. On the advice of my therapist I watched "Going for Broke," and with the exception of a few incidents, this movie could have been my life.

It all started innocently playing machines now and then; then it progressed to playing lottery tickets and machines.

My life centered around finding ways to go for "the big hit." I found myself hiding bills; I got credit cards in my husband’s name as well as mine. I maxed them all to the limit with cash advances.

Eventually, I was going to the casinos nearly every day. While I thought I was enjoying success, I was losing my grocery money and getting farther and farther behind in my bills.

Like Delta’s character, I too misappropriated money from my employer. The day I had to tell my husband I had been let go and the reason, I seriously considered ending my life.

My former employers didn’t file charges because my husband agreed to refinance our home to pay restitution. Once they were repaid, I promised to stop gambling, but I did not.

I blamed our financial condition on my husband for being laid off, but if I had been careful with our money, we would have been OK. I blamed it on the economy. I blamed everything but myself.

Two years later my husband had all he could stand of my lies. When he went to an attorney to end our marriage, I realized if I did not get professional help, my life with this wonderful man was over.

I’m looking at thousands of dollars of debt and trying to prevent my house from going into foreclosure. Today, I sold 2 antique paintings for 20% of their value. I planned to double the money, but I lost it within an hour.

For 18 months I’ve been going to a therapist every other week and I’ve been gambling free. Every day I work at regaining my husband’s trust.

Can I change? I pray that I can.

I’m thankful to the people who made "Going for Broke." It showed me my life as a gambler from the other side.

I’m going to a meeting as soon as I can.....Delores in Maryland and Anna in Washington State                            

 

 

GOD GRANT ME THE SERENITY 
TO ACCEPT THE THINGS I CANNOT CHANGE,
COURAGE TO CHANGE THE THINGS I CAN,
AND THE WISDOM TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. 

REAPING WHAT I SOW by Lori Rugle , Ph.D.

When I was a little girl, my mother read me a story called Henny Penny. I am probably dating myself, but this old children's book was still around some 30 years ago, when I read it to my own daughter.

Henny Penny is a chicken, who keeps asking all the other animals for help and never getting any. "Who will help me plant my grain?" asks Henny Penny. "Not I," says the dog. "Not I," says the goat. "Not I," says the cat. So she does it herself. On and on it goes. Nobody wanting to help her plant, harvest, mill the grain or bake the bread. The end has her eating her bread alone and gloating as the other farm animals look on hungrily.

Only recently have I realized that this seemingly innocuous little story is a metaphor for much of how I lived my life. Somehow, I always seemed to feel I was not getting the help I needed to get my work done. Like Henny Penny, I felt over-burdened and resentful, but took consolation in taking full credit when the job was done.

Fortunately, I have come to realize what an isolating and separating way of life this is. I had chosen the way of the martyr and the victim. Henny Penny seemed to have no choice; if she wanted the job done, of course she had to do it herself. However, I needed to realize all the subtle ways I created my own reality (perhaps my own illusion) that there really wasn't anyone who would help.

If Henny Penny was anything like me, what the other animals really told her was more like "Gee, I'm really busy right now, but I can help you do the planting tomorrow." Then in a snit of martyrdom, after a big sigh, Henny Penny responded, "That's ok, don't bother," another big sigh, "I'll just do it myself."

You can see how Henny Penny creates her own isolation. She is not just planting grain seeds; she is sowing the seeds of resentment, self-righteous indignation, hurt, and anger.

Thich Nhat Hanh, a Buddhist scholar and peace advocate, describes this same concept: We can choose to cultivate the seeds of anger, hate, loneliness, resentment. It is up to each of us to be mindful of which seeds we are fertilizing and watering. If we choose to separate ourselves from those who are willing to reach out, to help, to support us, we can allow the seeds of our egos to grow. Or we can learn to recognize when we see the sprouts of ego growing, the feelings of anger, fear, jealousy, pride. All the feelings that keep us believing that we are separate from each other, that there is no one to help, that we are unloved.

Allowing others to help me, I can choose to cultivate a flourishing, healthy garden. I will offer kindness to myself and all those I touch. I will take joy in sharing the beauty of my garden, as I realize I do nothing by myself. I will be grateful for the sun, the rain, the soil, the help and love of all those whose lives touch mine. I pray to sow the seeds of love and peace wherever I go so that we may all harvest joy and compassion.

Peace and love, Lori
Lori Rugle, Gambling treatment specialist,
is affiliated with Trimeridian, Inc.

We extend our thanks to two Arizona readers who have so generously contributed
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