Gambling Addiction Ain’t No Joke — Ask My Landlord
Our family trip in the summer of 95 was my first experience with the casino life. I was only 14. The kids in the family were warded off to enjoy the fun and games of the boardwalk while the adults enjoyed the fun and games inside Atlantic City’s Showboat. I hated going to the boardwalk — I much rather watch from the lobby area or partitioned wall which separated the action from the rest of the building.
So I told my cousins to go and I would catch up with them while I tried to lock eyes with my mother while she moved from table to table. Craps was her game.
Very early on I would notice a difference in social interactivity and moods before and after our casino trips. I will touch on these moods a little later.
It wouldn’t be until I was 21 years old that I could officially step foot in a casino and it wouldn’t be until I was 33 years old to acknowledge that I had a problem. See, people think this shit is a joke. Try choosing slots over food, or the casino over paying your rent (multiple times). Or try blowing a whole $2000 check in less than 4 hours. Or having your car spin out because you cannot miss out on the action during a winter blizzard. Try holding all the pain in and faking your smile. Try scheming to get more money to feed your addiction. Try manipulation. Try lying and pretending. Try breaking down in the Harrah’s casino lot. Try paying for gas with pennies.
I tried all these things and even though at the time I was too ashamed to speak on it. I have learned it has become my power and strength that delivered me a new life of abundance, blessings and improvement.
It would start with a cue.
I didn’t have control over my actions — my behavior or my decision making. Every part of my body and mind was a slave to the habit that I created. The cue could be just about anything:
a simple thought
a billboard
a commercial
a paycheck
a need to pay a bill
a conversation about money
money in my hand
the cue would lead to instant biological changes that would take over my entire body. All moving to the beat of (GO! You can do it, it’s your time, we got this, give it another shot) I mean wow! Everything working for one specific goal! To go gamble. What if we had that same type of unison, concerted and army like efforts for other things.
Nothing at all could stop me. Not the weather. Not sleep. Not other people. Not not having any money. Not not having a car. I had superpowers when it came to reaching my goal: GO GAMBLE.
Being unstoppable meant you needed to be creative and that I was. I would spend a few hours scheming then the rest of the day losing it all. I would drive home cursing myself, crying and screaming from the top of my lungs about the pain I felt and how I was unable to stop.
I would wipe my tears off when I pulled up to my apartment .. most of the time with a note on the door: The eviction notice.
Every part of my life was at an all time low. My spirituality was drained. I didn’t believe in anything. I only prayed for more money to go gamble away. My relationship took a dive. My partner couldn’t understand it, she wanted me to get help but I denied everything. I was ashamed. I was lost. My social life was done. If it didn’t have to do with the casino. I was sleeping, depressed or at home trying to figure out how to get back in. I kept wondering how come I didn’t want to interact with anyone. Not my family nor friends. My finances were SHIT. I was in debt, digging a deeper hole each time I was looking to fix the problem. If I wanted to pay my car note, I took $200.00 to the casino and when I lost, I would cash advance $500 and play with $300.00 which I lost, so I end up playing with the other $200.00 with a new goal of making $700.00 so I can break even. On a good day if I won, let’s say $800.00 I would turn back and lose the entire thing and go home to no food in the fridge, more debt and the same car bill. Stupid. Just stupid.
Here is what I notice about social interactivity and moods that I mentioned at the top of this article. Every time, like clockwork my family or myself would be the happiest humans driving to the casino. Happy, Happy, Joyous and Fearless. Singing songs, talking on the phone — just a treat to be around.
When we leave the casino we turn into little devils. We don’t want to talk, see anyone, laugh, smile or anything. We just want to go the hell to sleep.
That’s no life to live.
Fast forward. On February 14, 2016, I attended a seminar in Philadelphia. I was there to do the opposite. I needed a new environment. It was cold as hell, I was forcing myself to STOP gambling. On this day, my life was forever changed.
I Am Stacy A. Cross and There is No E in My Name.
