Hi, I'm Sean, and I'm a compulsive gambler.
A combined 'Welcome!' and re-introduction to my journey thus far.
This won’t be a long post (Edit: I apologise, it was longer than I planned). I felt it necessary to write a re-introduction, as this ‘page’ has genuinely grown bigger than I ever imagined.
What started as a way to procrastinate formatting and editing a poetry book has become an increasingly prolific avenue of therapy for me. Not necessarily from a financial perspective - though people’s generosity has been, and continues to be, something I am incredibly grateful for.
No, prolific more in the sense of articles I’ve been able to write, and thus, topics that I’ve been able to mentally process during my weeks. But, that’s getting slightly ahead of ourselves — especially considering I promised this wouldn’t be a long post.
To help keep things short, I’ll run through the basics of my story, but link to articles I’ve written on topics already, as I write.
Hi, my name’s Sean, and I’m a compulsive gambler.
I haven’t had a bet today, or since my last meeting on Monday last week. Nor have I placed a bet since the 9th of September, 2023. (Day 605!).
I’m a 28-year-old male from Brisbane, Queensland; and grew up in a pretty conservative house-hold, the middle child of 3 boys (poor Mum). I work full-time in health care - a role that lands me primarily with the elderly - and write on Substack/work at putting together my upcoming, first ever poetry book on the side.
I started gambling at 18. My first bet was a 20-cent bet on either a dog or a horse race - I can’t remember which, though I do remember it was at home, and through my phone. Roughly 6-weeks later, I placed a $1700 bet on the Rugby League grand final. (Normally, I refrain from posting values as much as I can. However, it’s hard to ignore the sizable difference between these two bets. in such a short time-frame.)
I fell in deeply, and I fell in hard. I was gambling most weekends, and occasionally during the week whilst at work. In the first year, I lost all of the money I had saved up/earned during my junior years, and essentially everything I had earned during my first year out of school. This was a lot.
Incidental Abstinence.
Then, I met somebody, and we started dating. I can’t remember how - or necessarily why - but I was very honest with her early on about my issues with gambling. She deserves a lot of credit for being so supportive at this time. Then, a couple of months into dating, I crashed my parents car and wrote if off.
This meant I had to come clean to my parents; there was no other way, really. I needed to front up the money to buy myself a replacement car, and simply couldn’t.
Long story short, my parents were very gracious. They lent me the money to buy a second-hand car, took over my finances for a while; then everything went back to normal. I had my finances back, and I genuinely wasn’t gambling.
A year or so of incidental abstinence passed. I wasn’t gambling, but I wasn’t actively not gambling. I hope this makes sense. During this period I did try and see a Psychologist to work on my anxiety, but I didn’t make it a priority.
The gambling may not have been present, but it was very much bubbling below the surface...
When the Dam Walls burst.
Out of respect for her, I will simply say that we broke up after about 2 years, and an engagement. Do not take this to be me trying to passively shift any blame - we were both young and my own faults within this relationship could fill a notepad thrice over.
What this break-up did, however, was introduce heartbreak, stress, and sadness into my life. To deal with it, I turned back to gambling, via ‘day-trading’. Not because I was smart, or good with stocks; but because the volatility of it was like pure heroin to my gambling brain.
The Dam Walls were showing significant cracks, and yet they held.
It was 2019 at this point, and I was working significant hours. Like, 12 hour days. Which I get, is not the end of the world. But for me, it was a lot - I would do a 9-hour clinic, then once patients had left, I was in charge of organising a ‘Close the Gap’ surgical list for one of my bosses.
When Covid hit, and destroyed my chances of the month-long holiday to Japan I had been eagerly awaiting; the Dam Wall all but shattered. I was burnt-out, depressed beyond belief, and feeling really lost in general.
Then, after a quick Telehealth appointment with a GP about my depression, I was prescribed an SSRI.
The Dam Walls didn’t just burst, they simply ceased to exist.
Life came at me all at once.
I know, I know - I said it would be a short post. I’ll get more concise in this next bit.
The Gambling period that defined me.
2020 was pretty insane, reflecting on it. My holiday was cancelled, and I popped the refund into the stock market in penny stocks (the gambler never folds). I was still working, but my hours were cut. My new medication/s were completely wrong, though due to the nature of my gambling addiction it was incredibly hard for my Psychiatrist/Psychologist to work out why they were wrong.
I turned back to the one friend I felt I could rely on - Gambling. And, it helped. I will never deny loving gambling, and what it does/did for me. It wasn’t a money thing, not after that first period of it, anyways. It was an escape. It helped me regain an amount of control in my anxiety, in that no matter what would occur in a social situation I was headed to, gambling would remain in my pocket; a few simple clicks away.
I was very, very sick. I was lonely - I write about that quite well here. I was gambling away absolutely everything I had access to - money, obviously, but I was also now regularly pawning items or selling them on marketplace. Just to get another $10 hit before my next payday.
This put me well into the ground; financially, spiritually, and emotionally. I was lost, scared, and too ashamed of what I’d down to properly reach out for help.
I genuinely felt this was the end. That there was no chance that I would ever be able to get ‘sober’. That my loved ones would be far better off without me gone. Would their would not spin on, irrespective of my involvement?
In the period of about a month, I tried to end things, twice. I had been struggling with suicidal ideations for at least a year or so at this point, and the dark nights staring at the screen got just a little too dark for me.
Yet, by the Grace of my higher power - whom I know as the Christian God - I woke up, twice.
The train chuggeth onward.
You would think this would stop me gambling, right? Would fool would continue to partake in an activity that he is then, quite literally, trying to kill himself as a result.
If anything, it just threw more chaos into the mix. I was still paycheck to paycheck, I was utilising pay-day loans to gamble, I was even lying to friends now just to get money from them.
I was, undoubtedly, a piece of shit. (A now forgiven piece of shit, but a piece of shit nonetheless). I was gambling 24/7 if I could, and had been for months. If I couldn’t gamble, only ever due to lack of funds, I was frothing at the mouth waiting for pay-day.
It took the kindness of both strangers and friends to really rescue me. A friends father, who had been meeting with me to chat each weekend. A gambling counsellor turned Psychologist, who showed me more love than a professional had before. Multiple medication trials and retrials. Friends that forgave me far more than I ever deserved. Family who put aside confusion and even probable anger to present me with love and stability. A Gambler’s Anonoymous group that welcomed me with open arms. And, so on. I go a bit further into things here.
Today.
Which of course, brings us to today. This was meant to be a short, succinct write-up; in a way I suppose it was. It’s extremely hard to condense 8 years of hellish addiction. A full list of my posts so far can be found here.
What I’m trying to do, through my writings here on Substack, is simply extend hope to those who, like me, might think that they gambled it away. There are many, many things you can gamble with, my friends. Sanity is perhaps one of the worst of these. Yet your inherent worth - that which makes you worth loving, that which makes you you - is thankfully never on this list.
I won’t lie and say I have any clue what I’m doing. I frequently reaffirm the opposite of this; I am simply an ex-addict telling his story. I just hope that by reading this story, you’re encouraged to reach out and seek help in your own circles, by professionals and safe family/friends alike. I can all but guarantee that you won’t be able to stop gambling until you do.
You may feel like a piece of shit, but this too shall pass. You are loved and worthy. Your brain is lying to you.
Anyways, I’m off to my Gambler’s Anonymous meeting.
One Day at a Time, yeah?
Love x
Sean.
Day 605.
A huge thank you to Laura, Sandy, and Patricia for all becoming paid supporters of this page. To you three, and those who have done so prior, I am extremely grateful x
If you’re in a place where you can support my writing financially, it would mean a lot to me, whilst also helping me to continue to do this viably alongside my full-time work.
You can do this by becoming a paid Subscriber here on Substack, or via a one-off gift via my Buy Me a Coffee.
Yep. One day at a fkg time.
Any addiction leads to no where land. It’s all dark days until you get with the program like you have.
Looking forward to reading more from you my new 12 stepping friend. Especially your poems.
Here with you in other programs of the same bleakness. 🖤