I am a compulsive gambler. I love my partner dearly, yet if I choose to gamble, there is nothing in this world that could be said or done to stop me from gambling. So when I hear people ask, “How do I stop my boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife etc. from gambling?” the answer is not what they were hoping for because there is nothing they can do to stop their loved one from gambling, only the addict can change; only the gambler can choose not to lay down another bet.
However, for an addict that choice is never as straight forward as non-addict imagines. A person with an addiction has to fight the addiction constantly in order to try to break free.
Never give a gambler an ultimatum i.e. “Stop gambling or I am going to leave you!” It will never work out, and in the process your heart will be torn to shreds. Never believe a gambling addict’s commitment to stop gambling, because the odds, like at the casino are stacked heavily against them; that doesn’t mean to say they cannot stop gambling, but change requires effort and as creatures of habit people often become accustomed to ritualistic behaviour, which compounds the problem of an addiction. Many a time I have said, “Right, that’s it! I am never going to gamble again!”, only to gamble again, months, weeks but often days later, even sometimes the very next day. You only have to read this blog for an insight into the mind of a compulsive gambler.
The problem is not the act of gambling because a free society should have the right to choose to enjoy a flutter, the problem is with the person who becomes addicted for whatever reason. Anyone regardless of background or status can become addicted and experience a downward spiral; during the slide, gambling provides the addict with far more than a loss or a win it becomes their entire worldly experience; it affects the gambler’s mood, how they feel about themselves, before during and after acting out. A compulsive gambler can lose everything because there are no limits.
If you are serious about your future relationship, my advice is to do what a gambler would never do – cut your losses and run! That is unless you unconditionally love your partner or you are co-dependent. If you are co-dependent go and seek help and resolve your issues. If you love your partner unconditionally be prepared for a roller coaster ride from great heights to ground scraping lows, albeit mainly lows. Think especially hard if you plan on having children as life is tough enough without Daddy or Mummy being a gambling addict.
If however, you want to try and make a relationship with an addict work, start reading everything there is about addiction and understand addiction more than the addict, be prepared to begin a long arduous journey. What you will learn may help you understand what your partner is going through, help raise awareness to things that you have become addicted to in your life and also and most importantly be the support your addictive partner needs albeit they just might not know it.
Try and reach out to other people who are living with an addict in order to extend your support network so you never feel isolated, alone or helpless.
Remember and understand that a gambler does not gamble to hurt you, they gamble because they are addicted nothing more or nothing less. The problem is the person addicted to gambling and not gambling itself. People can and do recover, but I know first hand just how hard that battle is. I consider myself a strong person but the addict within is often stronger.
Here is an extract from my thoughts when my partner was trying to make me stop gambling, she gave me ultimatums, was hostile, screamed at me; did everything to try to make me see the light, but I was always a darkened room with not a glimmer of light. People don’t like being told what to do and addicts despise it. Since then my partner has learned a lot about being an addict and understands how an addict’s magical thinking can lead to degenerate thoughts as a gambler believes their efforts and acts can make a positive difference when in reality it pushes the addict further from themselves and the positivity to which they aspire.
I cannot think straight. My partner does not understand nor respect my simple request, “I need space”. Instead, she attached herself to me and follows me around in an attempt to either try to decode my behaviour or keep an eye on my addiction to preventing me from acting out. The problem is I haven’t gambled recently nor do I want to gamble, and I am proud that I have resisted such urges. However, this distrust causes great hurt.
As a compulsive gambler, I accept responsibility for my actions and I sincerely apologise for the hurt I have caused and continue to cause. I am, however, responsible for my own thoughts, actions and perceptions so I am responsible for tackling my own problem either with the help of others or by myself, should I so choose.
The problem I am experiencing is far greater than gambling as it involves another individual, which similar to gambling, is completely out of my control. Her behaviour is unacceptable as is mine to hers and so this strange push and pull dance takes place. All I really want is space, to be alone for a moment so I can clear my thoughts and I can listen to my inner myself, so I have greater clarity.
Today, it seems that no matter what I say, my thoughts, opinions and reasoning will be counter-attacked, leaving me feeling frustrated and helpless once again. I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t. It was exactly times like these when I felt I had no control over my life and then I would become lost in a world of gambling to escape how I felt. While that urge is certainly a flame burning softly in the back of my mind, I step back to feel the warmth that often overwhelms me, I acknowledge my feelings, and I try to understand what is causing me to feel so anxious in order to accept these moments; for they are sure to be there long after having gambled so to escape is futile……..
***Hello, I am Phil, British, 38 and a Compulsive Gambler. My game of choice, was poker, either live poker or online poker. I am currently writing a gambling addiction diary as I try to break free of this hell. View my complete profile **** Phil’s Blog is: http://poker-gambling-addict.blogspot.co.uk *Diary of a Poker Addict*
***PLEASE MEET MY PAL PAUL****
Paul is a Unique fellow, and I really *ENJOY* his blog. Her is in Sobriety from Alcohol, and he has such Great Sense of Humor!! He is a little about PAUL and a sample of his awesome Recovery Blog at: http://messageinabottleblog.wordpress.com
I am a father, a husband, and a son. I am also a recovered alcoholic. I am 42 yrs old and drank for 25 of those years. I have a sponsor, sponsees, a homegroup and I work the steps outlined in the book Alcoholics Anonymous. I take my recovery seriously, but don’t take myself seriously (remember rule #62!) Hospitals, jail cells, detox and
the asylum (oops, I mean treatment center) brought me to a place of surrender and because of these 12 steps, I have been lifted to a place far better than I could have imagined in my entire life. Carrying the message is my duty and responsibility, which is one of the reasons I started this blog. I am not a representative of AA nor do I speak on their behalf. I am just a garden variety alkie who expresses his opinions and experience here. I wish you the best in your recovery!
*That’s a little about Paul, and now one of my *FRESH PICKED* blog posts of his!!!
I am not a fighter. I don’t know the sensation of what it is like to hit another person in an angry fashion. I don’t know how it is to knock a tooth out , or the feeling of someone’s jawbone crack underneath my knuckles. I have never had to roundhouse kick my way out of a predicament nor have I had the experience of body slamming someone over a parking spot. It’s just not in me. I’m too much of a delicate flower (and coward) for that sort of donnybrook action. I also don’t think violence solves anything – at least that is what the after school TV specials told me when I was growing up. But other than turtling when fists flew my way, I did had one weapon that I was able to use effectively. I had one thing I could wield with sufficient force and precise motion. I had one thing that no one would wrestle out of my hands or force me to lay down. And that was my words.
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word “sarcasm” derives from ancient Greek for “to tear flesh, gnash the teeth, speak bitterly.” Its first definition is “a sharp, bitter, or cutting expression or remark; a bitter gibe or taunt.” My first foray into the dark arts of sarcasm was rough – I had no real mentor or master to help me along, so I figured it out on my own. Through inflection and body language, tone and delivery, I was able to do what they call “unplain speaking” – saying something in which I mean something entirely different. As a raw rookie, I botched up a few times, and was a little too obvious in my attacks. I started to see that a less obvious approach lessened the chance of the victim to know that they were being attacked. In my twisted little way of thinking, I wanted to hurt them, but not have them know I was doing it. How sick is that? The sharpest blades rarely hurt when they cut. A dull knife hurts when raking against flesh. And like honing a machete against a mill file, my tongue got sharpened on the abrasions of my anger. I learned to cut deep while not seeming to leave a mark. It was ninja-like stuff, and the more flesh I tore, the better I felt about myself. There was something to this, after all.
What made me think of all this is the Cleaning Piece I am doing right now. It’s in keeping a check on myself that I am able to see my old patterns oh so well and alive even today, even after the work I have been doing and in the asking of the Creator to remove these kind of things from me. You see, I was always a wordsmith, a magician of form and syntax, a stealth bomber of insights, my words all wrapped up in delicious fatty layers of sarcasm. I was great at it. Almost too good. I would cut you down without leaving a mark. I would say something that seemed like I was building you up, but really, I was tearing you down. It came off as me being very polite and caring, and yet, I was peeling strips of skin off of you. Raw. And all of that with a glad and earnest look on my face, my intonation high and full of mock enthusiasm.
Disservice with a smile.
I learned early on in my sobriety that sarcasm was a form of anger. I was thrown off by that and had a hard time reconciling the emotion and the action. I mean, I wasn’t that angry of a guy. I’d never been in a tussle of any kind, and I was only trying to be funny when I was sarcastic, wasn’t I? Didn’t people laugh when I would unleash my honey-coated barbs and rapier-like witticisms towards a
target friend? Didn’t I get attention and hold court through my dry-as-a-martini humour and wickedly astute observations of others? Isn’t laughter the universal leveler – the healer of all hurts, the medicine for the terminally stuck up and gormless? So why didn’t it feel like anger? Why now was I looking to put away the one thing that made me feel like I had some voice, some shield, some semblance of power in a world that I felt utterly useless and helpless in? How could I defend myself or strike out? The idea was that I didn’t need a weapon anymore, as that I was not at war anymore – I needed to cease fighting.
What I have learned about myself and my old ways of thinking is that my pain and hurt and suffering germinated in how I felt others treated me. My ego told me that I was better than everyone, and at the same time, I was less than everyone. So in the friction of those states was the ripe, heated growing grounds for anger and resentment. And then add in all my fears I had – the dozens, if not hundreds of them, and I could really get upset and full of absolute rage. So rage away I did, and through my passive-aggressive ways, I got part of it out. The rest got drunk. So now having gone through the steps of AA, helping others, trying to be the man I was created to be, and being of service, much of that anger has dissipated. So why is it, while I observe my thoughts of negativity towards others, watching my tongue, do I still have the need to lob little bombs here and there? Why is it that I will watch myself say something that serves no one or no thing, except my ego? Except perhaps to bridle up against nuggets of discontent, of bubbles of disdain. Why do I feel the need to tear down still?
Clearly I still have some work to do.
But this is not about being perfect. This is about moving to a healthier place, of shifting perspective, of growing spiritually, of being of service to my fellow human. I am still learning, I am still trying to foster a teachable mind. My actions follow my thoughts and my thoughts follow my spirit. But there are gaps in there, and my recovery is about closing those gaps, cleaning myself up and strengthening my spirit. I try to lay down the weapon of words of tearing others down, and pick up the instrument of building people up. I have ceased fighting any more.
- Posted by carrythemessage in Fellowship, Reflections**Copyright~~Permission by both Phil & Paul Granted to SHARE their Web Content on my Blog****I Hope you will Learn A Little from ALL our Recovery Stories….It’s what being of Recovery Services to others IS ALL ABOUT!! God Bless All!!*