T i m e O u t

“I used to feel good about myself. My successful career. Good with money, honest and dependable. All that’s changed. I hate living in fear, lying to my boss, cheating and scrambling to pay bill.”

 “After my husband died, friends took me to the casino for a night out. I loved the noise and the buzz. It helped me forget my grief. Now I can’t stop. How can I tell my kids I’ve lost all their father’s savings? I’m so ashamed. I’m glad he isn’t here to see what I’ve done.” 

Until this morning when I received a text from a friend. “If Bobby asks u for a loan, have a good excuse ready cos ur next on her list.”

I was saddened but not surprised. Only a week ago I’d confronted my friend Bobby who finally confided her anguish about her gambling habit, which she’d managed to hide from most people for a long time. Was she now resorting to tricking her friends into lending her money with outlandish stories of personal difficulties?

How could this glamorous, highly successful businesswoman, a dedicated wife and mother to two teenage boys have fallen into the trap? Yes, she’s sometimes restless and easily bored. She likes to socialise and enjoys a few drinks. But this? For women, access to gambling has never been easier. The stigma has disappeared. Many gamble for fun or a time-out from everyday worries and have no addiction issues. While problem gambling may be related to troubled relationships, trauma, abuse and so on, Bobby had no such problems at the outset. She simply craves the thrill of betting and taking risks and now she struggles to control this overwhelming need. She’d talked about the momentary escape, the high of winning, the lure of bigger wins, about losing and desperation, secrecy and isolation. The spirals of despair and hope and, all the while, her self-esteem is plummeting. Her addiction is now threatening relationships, work, values. Not to mention the legal problems in the making. She’s converting her dreams into nightmares and is helpless to stop herself. She’s being silenced by shame and fear. Fear of being caught, of losing her job, of not being reliable around money. But she often resents people’s prying, their questions, their confusion, their lack the support, their judgmental attitude.

What she detests most is the yo-yo effect. Long interludes when she couldn’t care less

about gambling. She thinks she’s shaken it. She feels liberated. And then it hits her.  The

mirage of the “big win”. She juggles funds, chooses a trinket to pawn and singles out her

next target to borrow money from. Once again the mood-swings, the depression, the

thrill, the guilt, the remorse, the temptation to steal, the broken promises, the lying.

She’s been to the doctor and lied to him. He suggested she have a talk with her husband,

mistaking her depression for a breakdown in their relationship. Worst of all, she’s still in

denial about her need for professional treatment for an addiction she believes she can

deal with on her own. I suggested a Problem Gambling Centre that’s discreet and highly

professional. She listened and nodded.  I’d crossed my fingers for my friend’s wellbeing,

for her loved ones and for our friendship.

And this morning I received that text.