“Fun” Beginnings
At first, gambling was just ‘fun’—a night out with friends, a way to feel like I was ‘winning’ in a world where I didn’t always feel successful. “Wow, this is easy money!” I thought. Of course, that’s exactly what the casino wants you to believe. But what I didn’t realize was that the more I won, the more I needed to win. It wasn’t about money—it was about filling a void that nothing else seemed to satisfy.
Soon, I started making trips to the casino… alone. No one had to know, and I could play as long as I wanted. Gambling became my escape. I was chasing excitement, avoiding my life, even if it meant showing up to work exhausted.
The Descent
I didn’t realize gambling was stealing more than my money—it was stealing my relationships. I borrowed money from anyone who’d lend, even creating excuses like, “I need new tires.” The truth? I needed a reality check. I tried setting limits—only bringing a certain amount of cash—but that lasted as long as it took to go home, grab more, and head back.
Soon, I was overdrawing my bank account so often that several banks closed my accounts. But hey, at least I didn’t have credit card debt—no one would give me one. I’d lost friends, missed family events, and convinced myself I wasn’t hurting anyone, even though deep down, I knew everything was slipping away.
I also beat myself up after every loss. Gambling gave me the perfect excuse to emotionally abuse myself, isolating from everyone who cared. All I felt was numb—and alone.
First Attempt at Gamlers Anonymous
The first time I tried GA, I was working at a casino, and my boyfriend dragged me there. I didn’t want to go, but I thought, “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.” The 20 questions in the GA book hit me hard—every single one. I thought I could just “white-knuckle” my way through, but recovery isn’t about just stopping, it’s about healing.
After a year without gambling, I thought I had it under control. But soon enough, I relapsed. I couldn’t go back to GA. I was ashamed to admit I was powerless over gambling. I convinced myself I could handle it on my own, but I spiraled again.
Breakthrough Moment
After 15 years in the casino industry, I lost my job, my home, and my mind. Then, an unexpected encounter changed everything. I ran into an ex-boyfriend at Walmart—he wasn’t gambling anymore. I couldn’t believe it. We talked, and he invited me to breakfast. That conversation was like a wake-up call. I felt love again, something other than numbness. He had chosen recovery, while I was still gambling.
We moved in together and got married. But despite everything, I still gambled. My husband knew if my car was gone, I was at the casino. He’d drive there to find me, even threaten divorce, but I kept going. On our second anniversary I had gambled everything away. My husband made the most romantic gesture—recreating our first anniversary meal—but I had nothing to give him.
Rock Bottom and the Decision to Seek Help
Just days later, I pawned my wedding ring and anniversary bands. I got a small amount for them and headed straight to the casino. When I came home, my husband’s look of disgust broke me. I didn’t want to feel anything, so I tried to hide my hand. But that moment forced me to face the truth—I didn’t recognize myself anymore. This wasn’t me.
I realized I was at a crossroads. I could either keep running or choose recovery. I chose recovery. I apologized to my husband, saying I was going back to GA, and that I needed help. He was right to doubt me. What made this time different? I was ready to show through my actions that I was serious.
Road to Recovery
Walking back into GA felt different—not just because it was a Monday night meeting. I was met with kindness, understanding, and no judgment. I felt welcomed by people like Martha, Debbie, Sandy, and Sue—people who made me feel like I was home.
Recovery hasn’t been easy. I’ve learned that admitting powerlessness isn’t weakness, it’s a step toward regaining control. Every day is a chance to grow, to be honest with myself, and to trust again. The support of my fellow sisters in recovery keeps me strong.
When our Monday night meeting almost ended, I knew I couldn’t let that happen. It had been so crucial to my recovery. I offered to take over the group text and drive Martha to meetings. Being of service in small ways has been incredibly fulfilling.
A Life Transformed
Recovery has given me the chance to be there for my husband when he needed me the most—through cancer, heart surgery, and the loss of loved ones. I’m now able to give back, to be present, and to show up for those I love.
I’m still on this journey. Some days are harder than others, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Recovery has given me the opportunity to rebuild, heal, and live again. There’s still more to do, but I’m choosing to live with hope, gratitude, and love.
If you’re struggling, know that recovery is possible. It’s worth it. You’re worth it!
My name is Jody and I’m grateful to share my story of hope and recovery. Through my journey, I found strength and support by attending Gambler’s Anonymous (GA) meetings, which have been crucial to my healing process. I hope my story can offer encouragement to others who are facing similar challenges.
Last Updated on March 12, 2025